Chapter 4 - The Midnight Confession
The emergency siren howled through the courtyard as the ambulance transferred Mark Miller back to the very hospital where his daughter lay injured. He hadn't suffered a heart attack; he had swallowed a handful of blood pressure pills he had hidden inside the lining of his belt.
Sarah and I stood outside the cardiac ICU, watching through the glass partition as medical staff pumped his stomach.
Deputy Harris walked up behind us, holding a clear plastic bag containing a crumpled piece of yellow legal paper.
"He scribbled this right before he swallowed the pills," Harris said quietly, handing the bag to Sarah. "His lawyer surrendered it under the imminent threat exception."
Sarah took the bag with shaking fingers. I leaned over her shoulder to read Mark’s frantic, scrawling handwriting:
*Sarah—*
*I am so sorry. Greg found out about the investment fraud I got dragged into two years ago. He had proof that would send me to federal prison for twenty years. He said the only way he wouldn't turn me over to the feds was if I gave him the inheritance money. But that wasn't enough for Tricia.*
*Tricia can't have children. She lost her mind after her last miscarriage. When Greg realized the feds were closing in on his own illegal businesses anyway, Tricia convinced him that taking Lily and starting over in Vancouver was their only way out. They threatened to kill you if I didn't cooperate. They told me Lily would be safe with them, living a luxury life under new identities.*
*I never wanted her hurt. When Greg called me today saying Lily knocked the tea kettle off the counter during the packing rush, I panicked. I didn't know what to do. The key to Room 214 was the staging room. But there's another location. Greg has a storage locker at 440 Industrial Parkway, Unit 12. That's where the rest of the cash and his go-bag are hidden. Stop them before they reach the border. Please forgive me.*
Sarah crumpled the plastic bag in her fist, her knuckles white, her face carved from stone. There were no tears left in her eyes—only a cold, deadly disgust.
"He tried to trade our daughter for his freedom," Sarah said, her voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "He knew they were taking her, and he was going to let them."
"He was trapped in his own cowardice," I said, putting my arm around her shoulders. "But now we have the upper hand. Harris! Did you hear that? Unit 12 on Industrial Parkway."
"Already dispatched three squad cars," Harris said, tapping his radio earpiece. "If Greg or Tricia show up there for that money, we'll have them in cuffs."
Just then, my mobile phone vibrated in my pocket. It was an unknown number.
I exchanged a glance with Harris, switched the phone to speaker, and answered.
"Hello?" I said.
A woman's raspy, furious voice cut through the line. It was Tricia.
"Listen to me, you old bastard," she hissed. "Tell Sarah to call off the police. If there are cop cars outside that storage unit, or if the border patrol gets our pictures, Sarah will never see her little girl alive again."
I frowned, glancing toward the pediatric wing. "What are you talking about, Tricia? Lily is right here with us. She's in the hospital."
There was a chilling, two-second pause on the other end of the line.
Then, Tricia laughed—a sound that was cold, shrill, and unhinged.
May you like
"Are you sure about that, Arthur? Go check the room."
***
