Chapter 4 - THE DOCTOR'S BADGE
I hit the ICU doors so hard they bounced against the wall.
“Get away from her!”
Dr. Bennett spun around.
Two nurses froze.
I crossed the room before anyone could stop me and caught his wrist.
“Mason!”
“What are you putting in her IV?”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Answer me!”
“It is medication to stabilize her blood pressure.”
Detective Ortiz entered behind me with two officers.
“Mr. Sloane, release him.”
I didn't.
“His badge was in Daniel's car.”
Dr. Bennett stopped fighting.
“What?”
“Your hospital access badge.”
His expression changed.
Not guilt.
Confusion.
He reached toward his coat pocket.
Empty.
Then his hand went to the clip near his waist.
Also empty.
“When did you last have it?” Ortiz asked.
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
“I scanned into the staff elevator around midnight.”
“And after that?”
“I delivered the babies. Claire crashed. Everything became chaos.”
“Could someone have taken it?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Half the maternity staff were around me.”
I released him.
Dr. Bennett looked furious.
“I understand you're afraid, Mason. But if you interfere with her treatment again, I'll have you removed from this room.”
“My wife has been poisoned.”
“And I'm trying to keep her alive.”
Detective Ortiz examined the IV bag.
“Doctor, nobody touches anything until another physician confirms what's being administered.”
Dr. Bennett stared at her.
“You're delaying care.”
“Thirty seconds.”
He cursed under his breath but complied.
Another doctor verified the medication.
It was legitimate.
The shame hit quickly.
“I’m sorry.”
Bennett looked at me.
“No, you're terrified.”
He adjusted his sleeve.
“But terror makes people dangerous.”
He walked out.
Detective Ortiz followed.
I remained beside Claire.
That moment taught me what the poisoning had already done to me.
It had destroyed trust.
Not just in Vanessa.
Not just in Daniel.
Everyone.
A doctor reached toward Claire, and I saw an enemy.
A nurse carried a syringe, and I watched her hands.
Someone pushed a bassinet down the hallway, and my first thought was whether my child was inside.
Fear had turned every ordinary movement into a potential threat.
Twenty minutes later, Ortiz returned.
“Dr. Bennett reported his badge missing.”
“When?”
“About an hour ago.”
“Why didn't we know?”
“Hospital security was handling it.”
“Someone used it?”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“The maternity supply corridor.”
“When?”
“1:19 a.m.”
Thirteen minutes before Claire collapsed.
“Camera?”
“Disabled.”
Of course.
“For how long?”
“Eleven minutes.”
“Whoever did this knew the hospital.”
“Or had help from someone who did.”
I thought about Daniel.
He was brilliant with finance.
Not hospital systems.
Vanessa knew schedules but not medical security.
There was another person.
Someone we hadn't identified.
“Did you search Daniel's laptop?”
“Working on it.”
“What about Claire's office?”
“Officers arrived.”
“And?”
“Ransacked.”
“Anything left in the bottom drawer?”
“No.”
I sat down.
Too late.
The message had been accurate.
Then Ortiz added, “But your wife may have expected that.”
I looked up.
“What do you mean?”
“She left something taped beneath the drawer.”
Hope returned.
“What?”
“A key.”
“To what?”
“We don't know.”
The key was small.
Brass.
No identifying marks except the number 317.
Claire had hidden it beneath her desk.
That was Claire.
Careful.
Quiet.
Always three steps ahead when she knew something mattered.
At 4:30 that morning, Ortiz searched databases for anything connected to 317.
Bank boxes.
Storage facilities.
Foundation property.
Nothing.
Then I remembered Claire's habit of renting lockers whenever she volunteered at disaster sites.
“Try Union Station.”
Ortiz looked at me.
“Why?”
“Claire hates carrying purses when she travels. She uses public lockers.”
Atlanta's old passenger terminal didn't have the kind of lockers I remembered, but a private luggage storage service nearby did.
Unit 317 existed.
Registered under Claire's maiden name.
Claire Morgan.
Detective Ortiz sent officers.
Inside they found a waterproof document pouch.
A flash drive.
A handwritten notebook.
And a sealed letter addressed to me.
Ortiz wouldn't let me see the evidence immediately.
The letter, however, was personal.
She gave it to me after photographing the envelope.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Mason,
If you're reading this, it means I was right to be worried. First, don't panic. I know you. Panic makes you reckless.
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
She knew me too well.
I found payments connected to the foundation that don't belong there. At first I thought it was an accounting error. Then I realized the same group of vendors appeared after every major disaster contract. Some companies don't have employees. Some addresses are empty offices. Someone has been moving money through both the foundation and Sloane Infrastructure.
Your electronic authorization appears on several transfers. I know you didn't sign them.
I closed my eyes.
Claire believed me before I even knew I needed believing.
I kept reading.
I didn't tell you immediately because I wanted proof. You protect the people you love, Mason, sometimes even from facts. Daniel has been your brother longer than he has been your CFO. Vanessa has been part of our lives for years. I didn't want to accuse either of them without certainty.
My heart stopped on the next line.
But Daniel isn't the person I'm most afraid of.
I read it twice.
Detective Ortiz noticed.
“What?”
I handed her the page.
She continued.
The money leads somewhere else. Daniel may be stealing, but someone above him is protecting the transfers. Someone with authority equal to yours.
There were only three people with authority close to mine.
Me.
Daniel.
And the chairman of Sloane Infrastructure.
My uncle.
Richard Sloane.
My father's older brother.
The man who had given me my first real contract.
The man who had invested in my company when banks wouldn't.
The man who had become chairman when Sloane Infrastructure went public.
Uncle Richard had walked Claire down the aisle after her father died.
He had called her the daughter he never had.
I kept reading.
Richard's private investment company appears connected to two of the shell vendors. I may be wrong. I hope I'm wrong.
I couldn't breathe.
If anything happens to me, protect the babies first. Not the company. Not the money. Them.
The final line nearly broke me.
And remember something I learned about you when you were nineteen: you think losing your company would mean losing who you are. It wouldn't. You were Mason before Sloane Infrastructure existed. I loved that man first.
I folded the letter.
For several seconds, there was no hospital.
No police.
No money.
Only the memory of Claire standing outside that library holding my coffee-stained business plan.
Detective Ortiz touched my shoulder.
“We need to talk about Richard Sloane.”
I nodded.
“My uncle lives forty minutes away.”
“Don't contact him.”
“He knows the babies were born.”
“Does he know Claire is sick?”
“I don't know.”
My phone rang.
Richard.
Ortiz and I stared at the screen.
“Answer,” she said.
I put it on speaker.
“Uncle Richard.”
“Mason.”
His familiar voice filled the room.
“I heard Claire had complications.”
“Who told you?”
“Daniel.”
My eyes met Ortiz's.
“When?”
“About an hour ago.”
“Daniel's missing.”
Silence.
Then Richard sighed.
“Mason, this is bigger than you realize.”
A chill moved through me.
“What is?”
“The situation with Claire.”
I gripped the phone.
“What do you know?”
Another pause.
Then my uncle said something I would remember for the rest of my life.
“I told Daniel to scare her.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“What?”
“I said scare her.”
His voice broke.
“I never told him to poison her.”
Detective Ortiz began signaling another officer.
I could barely think.
“Why would you scare my pregnant wife?”
“Because she found the accounts.”
“You stole from me?”
“No.”
“Forty million dollars.”
“It isn't what you think.”
“That sentence should be outlawed.”
“Mason, listen carefully.”
“No. You listen.”
My voice rose.
“Claire is in intensive care. Someone tried to transfer my children out of this hospital using my forged signature.”
Richard became silent.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“I didn't authorize that.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I would never touch those babies.”
“But Claire?”
“I wanted her frightened. Not dead.”
“Where is Daniel?”
“I don't know.”
“Where are you?”
Richard hesitated.
Then I heard something in the background.
A woman's voice.
Very faint.
“Richard, hang up.”
I recognized it.
Vanessa.
I looked through the glass.
The interview room was empty.
I turned to Ortiz.
“Where is Vanessa?”
Her face changed.
She rushed toward the room.
The door stood open.
Vanessa was gone.
Somehow, during the confusion over Dr. Bennett's badge, she had disappeared.
Again.
My uncle whispered into the phone.
“Mason, don't trust her.”
Then the line disconnected.
Ortiz called hospital security.
I stood frozen.
Claire had warned me.
Not Vanessa.
Maybe I had misunderstood.
Maybe she hadn't meant Vanessa was innocent.
Maybe she had been trying to say something else.
Not Vanessa alone.
I looked down at Claire's letter.
Richard.
Daniel.
Vanessa.
Three people woven through my life.
Three people I had trusted.
But if Richard hadn't ordered Claire killed, and Daniel had vanished, and Vanessa was now with my uncle, one question remained.
Who had tried to take my children?
My phone vibrated.
A video call.
Vanessa.
Detective Ortiz told me not to answer.
I did anyway.
The screen opened.
Vanessa's face appeared.
She was crying.
“Mason, you need to listen.”
“Where are you?”
“That doesn't matter.”
“Are you with Richard?”
Her eyes moved slightly to the side.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he's not the one you need to be afraid of.”
“Then who?”
She looked directly into the camera.
“The person who ordered Claire's poisoning is still inside the hospital.”
My blood turned cold.
Behind her, Richard shouted something.
Vanessa spoke quickly.
“Mason, take the babies and leave.”
“Who is it?”
“The transfer request wasn't meant to steal them.”
“What?”
“It was meant to get them out before—”
The call cut off.
“Before what?” I shouted.
No answer.
Then every light in the maternity corridor went dark.
For one terrible second, the entire floor became black.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Alarms began sounding.
Nurses started shouting.
And from inside the nursery came a scream.
Not from one of my children.
From a nurse.
I ran toward the doors.
Three bassinets had been there minutes earlier.
May you like
Now there were only two.
One of my newborn babies was gone.
