Chapter 6 - Hannah’s Friend
We locked down the unit again.
Nobody entered.
Nobody left without security clearance.
The hospital began feeling less like a place of healing and more like a fortress.
Nora Wells arrived with Detective Cole twenty minutes later.
She looked exhausted.
Thirty, perhaps thirty-two.
Dark brown hair tied into a loose knot.
Cheap winter coat.
Hands that would not stop twisting around each other.
The first thing she saw was Arthur.
She froze.
Arthur stood.
Neither spoke.
Nora’s eyes filled with tears.
“You look exactly like the picture.”
Arthur’s voice cracked.
“What picture?”
“Hannah had one.”
Nora took a breath.
“You in uniform.”
Arthur sank into a chair.
“She had my picture?”
“Always.”
Nora smiled sadly.
“She used to tell people you were dead.”
Arthur looked devastated.
“Why?”
“Because it hurt less than saying you were alive but didn’t come.”
The words struck him.
Richard looked away.
Arthur whispered, “I tried.”
Nora nodded.
“I know that now.”
“How?”
“Hannah found letters.”
Arthur stared.
“What letters?”
“Hundreds.”
He looked toward Richard.
Richard’s face went pale.
Nora continued.
“They were in a storage box at her foster mother’s house. Birthday cards. Christmas cards. Photos.”
Arthur’s lips parted.
“She got them?”
“Not until she was eighteen.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
A tear rolled down one cheek.
“For years,” Nora said, “she thought you chose not to find her.”
Arthur covered his face.
No one spoke.
I had cared for families through infant deaths, emergency surgeries, terminal diagnoses, and impossible goodbyes.
There was something uniquely cruel about grief created by a lie.
Arthur had spent decades believing his child had been taught to forget him.
Hannah had spent decades believing he had forgotten her.
Nora sat opposite him.
“She didn’t hate you.”
Arthur lowered his hands.
“She should have.”
“She did for a while.”
A tiny smile appeared.
“Then she started researching.”
“Researching what?”
“Your military records. Richard Sterling. Her mother’s accident.”
Richard stiffened.
Nora looked at him.
“You really are alive.”
Richard said nothing.
“Hannah knew you were.”
Arthur turned.
“How?”
Nora reached into her bag.
Cole watched carefully.
She removed a notebook wrapped in plastic.
“Hannah gave me this eight months ago.”
Arthur reached for it.
Cole stopped him.
“Evidence first.”
Arthur glared.
Cole held his gaze.
“We make a copy. You get the original back when I can release it.”
Nora nodded.
“She wrote everything in there.”
“Why give it to you?”
“Because she was scared.”
“Of Rebecca?”
“I didn’t know her name until today.”
Nora looked toward the baby.
“Hannah said people had started following her.”
Arthur leaned forward.
“Where is she?”
Nora’s expression changed.
“I don’t know.”
Arthur stared.
“You said you knew.”
“I said I had information.”
His face hardened.
Nora hurried on.
“The last time I saw her was three weeks ago.”
“When she was pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she come to me?”
“She was going to.”
Arthur stopped.
“What?”
“She had your address.”
His fingers tightened against his knees.
“She had my address?”
Nora nodded.
“She drove past your house twice.”
Arthur looked stunned.
“Why didn’t she stop?”
“She was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of what would happen to you.”
Arthur gave a broken laugh.
“I’m fifty-two years old.”
“She knew.”
“I spent twenty-three years looking for her.”
“She knew that too.”
“Then what was she afraid of?”
Nora glanced toward Richard.
“Hannah believed somebody had killed Emily because of whatever she knew.”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
“She believed that if she contacted Arthur, the same people would find him.”
Arthur stared toward the isolation room.
“They found her anyway.”
Nora looked at the baby.
“Yes.”
“Why did she abandon her child?”
“She didn’t want to.”
My pulse quickened.
“What happened?”
Nora pressed her hands together.
“Hannah told me if she ever gave birth unexpectedly, she needed twenty-four hours.”
“Why?”
“To make sure nobody followed her to the baby.”
Arthur stood.
“She left to protect her?”
“That’s what I think.”
“You think?”
“She called me after delivery.”
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“What did she say?”
Nora’s eyes filled.
“She said, ‘If Arthur comes, don’t let him leave her.’”
Arthur turned away.
His shoulders shook once.
“She knew I was coming.”
“Yes.”
“The letter.”
Nora nodded.
“She sent it.”
“Bed seven. Don’t fail again.”
Nora winced.
“She was angry.”
Arthur laughed through his tears.
“She had every right.”
“But she wanted you here.”
He looked through the glass.
The baby slept beneath a soft knitted blanket.
“Why didn’t she stay?”
Nora whispered, “Because she saw Rebecca Sloan.”
Every adult in the room went still.
“Where?”
“In the hospital.”
Arthur turned.
“When?”
“Less than an hour after giving birth.”
Cole leaned forward.
“Did she report it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“She didn’t trust anyone.”
“That included the hospital?”
“That included everyone.”
Nora reached into her coat.
“I found this taped inside my mailbox this morning.”
She produced a keycard-sized envelope.
Cole opened it.
Inside was a flash drive.
Arthur stared.
Nora said, “Hannah wrote one sentence on it.”
Cole read aloud.
If I disappear, Arthur gets everything.
Richard slowly stood.
“We need to see what’s on it.”
Cole gave him a cold look.
“You need a lawyer.”
“I’ve had lawyers most of my life. That’s part of the problem.”
Cole pocketed the drive.
“We’re going to examine it.”
Arthur stepped toward Nora.
“What did Hannah say in the phone call?”
Nora hesitated.
“All of it.”
Nora looked at him.
“She was crying.”
Arthur waited.
“She said the baby was smaller than she expected.”
His face crumpled.
“She asked me if babies that small survive.”
I looked at the infant.
Arthur whispered, “They can.”
Nora nodded.
“I told her that.”
“What else?”
“She asked if I thought a man could love a granddaughter he’d never met.”
Arthur sat down again.
Nora was crying openly now.
“I told her yes.”
He looked at her.
“She said, ‘He already loved me before he knew me.’”
Arthur’s mouth opened, but no sound emerged.
Nora reached across the table.
“She knew, Arthur.”
He took her hand.
“She knew you tried.”
For several minutes, the room became something other than an investigation.
It became a place where twenty years of misunderstanding finally cracked open.
Then Detective Cole’s radio went off.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What floor?”
A pause.
“Seal it.”
Arthur stood.
“What?”
Cole looked toward the hallway.
“Security found Rebecca Sloan.”
“Where?”
Cole’s eyes moved toward the ceiling.
“Inside the hospital.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened.
“Where?”
Cole answered.
“Pediatric pharmacy.”
My stomach dropped.
The pharmacy supplied nearly every medication used in our NICU.
Cole rushed toward the door.
Then his radio spoke again.
A voice crackled through.
“Detective, we have an injured security officer. Suspect fled through service corridor.”
Cole grabbed the handle.
Before leaving, he turned to me.
“Do not open this door for anyone.”
He ran.
Arthur moved toward the glass to check the baby.
The isolation room was empty.
For one second, my mind refused to understand.
Then I saw the disconnected monitor lead lying on the mattress.
The blanket was folded back.
The baby was gone.
I screamed.
Arthur slammed against the glass.
“No!”
Every alarm in the NICU seemed to erupt at once.
Then the intercom above us crackled.
A woman’s voice whispered through the speaker.
“Arthur Vance.”
Arthur looked up.
Rebecca Sloan spoke again.
“You finally came for your daughter.”
May you like
A pause.
“Now come get your granddaughter.”
