Chapter 15 - THE EARLY DELIVERY
The bracelet had been printed inside my hospital.
Someone still had access.
Agent Monroe ordered a complete lockdown.
Every employee connected to maternity services underwent screening.
The technician who printed the bracelet disappeared before agents reached his home.
At 3:17 the next morning, I woke to a crushing pain.
The fetal monitor alarmed.
Nurses rushed in.
Dr. Ramirez examined the screen.
“The baby’s heart rate is dropping.”
My father arrived as they prepared the operating room.
My mother remained at the military hospital, unable to travel.
I had wanted her beside me.
There was no time.
Dr. Ramirez gripped my hand.
“We need to deliver now.”
“I’m only thirty weeks.”
“He’s in distress.”
“Will he survive?”
“The neonatal team is ready.”
My father walked beside the bed as they rushed me down the corridor.
“You’re not alone,” he said.
The words reached backward through every year I had believed otherwise.
At the operating-room doors, security stopped him.
I caught his hand.
“Don’t let Henry take him.”
“He won’t.”
“Promise me.”
My father looked into my eyes.
“I promise.”
The anesthesia spread cold through my spine.
Bright lights burned overhead.
Doctors spoke in clipped phrases.
Pressure replaced pain.
Then came silence.
I waited for a cry.
Nothing.
“What’s happening?”
No one answered.
“Why isn’t he crying?”
The neonatal team moved around a small table.
Dr. Ramirez leaned over the screen.
“Stay with us, Anna.”
“Is he alive?”
A thin sound pierced the room.
Weak.
Angry.
Perfect.
My son cried.
Tears slid into my hair.
“He’s breathing,” someone said.
“He’s small, but he’s fighting.”
They lifted him for only a second.
His skin was red.
His eyes were closed.
A tiny oxygen mask covered most of his face.
“My baby.”
“What’s his name?” a nurse asked.
I had avoided choosing one because David rejected every suggestion.
Now the answer came easily.
“Jonathan.”
My father’s name.
Not because of his title.
Because he came when I called.
Baby Jonathan was moved to the neonatal intensive care unit.
I lost too much blood during surgery.
For several hours, my memories dissolved into flashes.
My father’s voice.
Dr. Ramirez’s hands.
A nurse adjusting an IV.
When I woke, Agent Monroe stood beside my bed.
Her face told me something was wrong.
“Where is my baby?”
“He’s safe.”
“Where?”
“In the NICU under guard.”
“What happened?”
“Someone attempted to access the unit using a cloned medical badge.”
My heart raced.
“Henry?”
“We don’t know.”
“The person escaped through a service stairwell.”
“Did they reach Jonathan?”
“No.”
I tried to sit up.
Pain tore across the incision.
“You cannot move,” Dr. Ramirez said from the doorway.
“My son—”
“Your son is protected.”
“I need to see him.”
“You will.”
“Now.”
They wheeled me to the NICU later that afternoon.
Jonathan lay inside an incubator beneath blue lights.
Wires covered his chest.
His hand was smaller than my thumb.
I placed my palm against the glass.
“Hi.”
His fingers moved.
“I’m your mother.”
My father stood behind me.
He rested one hand on my shoulder.
Security checked every person entering the unit.
Still, fear followed every sound.
Agent Monroe brought the cloned badge.
It belonged to Claire Blake.
Claire had visited the hospital that morning.
She denied giving it to anyone.
Security footage showed her leaving her coat inside a waiting room for seven minutes.
A man dressed as a janitor passed through the room.
Facial-recognition software identified him as Leonard.
Leonard had been released temporarily into protected custody while cooperating with investigators.
He disappeared from the safe location before the hospital breach.
Claire stared at the footage.
“He stole my badge.”
“Why would your husband help Henry?” Monroe asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Did he contact you?”
“No.”
Claire hesitated.
Agent Monroe noticed.
“What aren’t you telling us?”
Claire opened her handbag.
She removed a folded note.
It had been placed beneath her hotel-room door.
COME TO THE HOSPITAL.
WE CAN STILL SAVE OUR FAMILY.
L.
“You concealed evidence,” Monroe said.
“I thought he wanted to see me.”
“You may have helped him reach Anna’s child.”
Claire covered her face.
A hospital alarm sounded.
Not from the NICU.
From the parking garage.
A black vehicle had crashed through a security barrier.
Agents responded.
Inside the abandoned SUV, they found Leonard’s blood and Henry’s fingerprints.
A phone lay on the driver’s seat.
It contained a live video feed.
Henry appeared on the screen.
Leonard was tied to a chair behind him.
“You have my grandson,” Henry said.
“I have your witness.”
May you like
“Bring the child to the old courthouse by midnight.”
“Or Leonard dies.”
