Chapter 7 - The Hospital And The Rosary
I sat in the driver’s seat, the engine idling in the parking lot of Arthur Vance’s office. Matthew’s panicked breathing echoed through the car’s speakers.
Diane had a stroke.
For a second, the innate nurse inside me kicked in. The instinct to rush, to help, to assess the situation. But then I looked in the rearview mirror at my three children, sitting in the backseat of a freezing car, eating stale donuts because the man on the phone had stolen their future.
“Which hospital?” I asked coldly.
“St. Jude’s,” Matthew said, his voice cracking. “Your hospital, Rachel. They brought her to the ER. You have to come. She’s asking for you.”
I narrowed my eyes. Diane hated me. If she were dying, I would be the last person she’d want to see.
“I’ll be there soon,” I said, and disconnected the call.
I turned to the kids. “Change of plans. We’re going to my work.”
St. Jude’s Hospital was a sprawling brick complex in the center of town. I parked in the employee garage, using my badge to get through the secure gate. I left the kids in the car again, promising I would be quick, locking the doors and taking the keys.
The emergency room lobby was chaotic, filled with the usual morning rush of flu symptoms and minor injuries. I bypassed the waiting area and swiped my badge to enter the staff-only corridor.
I found Matthew pacing outside Bay 4. He looked exhausted, his hair unkempt, still wearing the clothes from the night before. When he saw me, he rushed forward, grabbing my arms.
“Where are the boys?” he demanded, his eyes darting behind me.
“Safe,” I said, pulling away from his grip. “How is your mother?”
“She’s in a medically induced coma. The doctors said the stress from last night triggered it.” He glared at me, weaponizing his guilt immediately. “You did this to her, Rachel. You broke into her house and terrified her.”
“Stop,” I said, holding up a hand. “I’m not playing this game today, Matthew. Where is she?”
I stepped past him and pulled back the curtain to Bay 4.
The bed was empty.
The monitors were off. The sheets were perfectly made. There was no sign of Diane. No machines. No doctors.
I turned around. Matthew was standing in the doorway of the cubicle, blocking my exit.
“Where is she?” I asked, a cold dread pooling in my stomach.
“She’s at home,” Matthew said softly. The panic from his voice on the phone was completely gone. The smooth, dead-eyed shark was back. “She’s fine. A little shaken up, but fine.”
“You lied.”
“I needed you to come here,” he said, stepping closer. “And I knew you wouldn't bring the kids inside. Which means they’re in your car. In the parking garage.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. I reached for my pocket, feeling the cold, hard beads of my late mother’s rosary that I always carried in my scrubs. It was a grounding mechanism, a reminder of the strong woman who had raised me.
“You won't get near my car,” I said, keeping my chin high.
“I don't need to,” Matthew said. He checked his watch. “Because security is already out there. I called them ten minutes ago. I told them a disgruntled nurse had abandoned three children in a freezing vehicle while she came inside to steal narcotics.”
The forged pharmacy logs. He was executing his plan right now.
“You’re insane,” I whispered, stepping back.
“I’m protecting my children from a drug addict,” he countered, his voice raising just loud enough for the nurses at the main station to hear. “Rachel, you need help. We found the missing pills in your locker!”
Two security guards appeared behind Matthew. Behind them was my nursing supervisor, a stern woman named Brenda, looking absolutely horrified.
“Rachel,” Brenda said, her voice shaking. “Security just opened your locker. We found two bottles of oxycodone taped behind your extra scrubs.”
He planted them. While I was running from his mother’s house, he had come to the hospital and planted the drugs.
“Brenda, listen to me,” I said, stepping forward. “He’s lying. He’s trying to frame me so he can take my kids out of the country.”
“Ma’am, you need to come with us,” one of the security guards said, reaching for his handcuffs. “The police have already been called to your vehicle.”
“My kids!” I screamed, fighting past the guard. “Don't you dare touch my kids!”
I shoved past Matthew, sprinting down the hallway. I heard the guards yelling behind me, their heavy boots thudding against the linoleum. I burst through the double doors into the parking garage.
My Honda was surrounded.
Two police cruisers with flashing lights blocked it in. An officer was using a slim jim to unlock the driver’s side door. I saw Ava inside, holding her brothers tightly, her face pressed against the glass, crying in terror.
“Stop!” I screamed, running toward them. “I’m their mother! Leave them alone!”
An officer grabbed my arms, pinning them behind my back. “Rachel Hayes? You’re under arrest for child endangerment and suspected theft of controlled substances.”
As they pushed me against the hood of the police cruiser, clicking the cold metal cuffs around my wrists, I looked up.
Standing on the second level of the parking garage, looking down at the chaos, was a blonde woman in a cashmere coat.
Chloe Bennett.
She was smiling, holding a silver watch in her hand. Matthew’s watch.
The trap had snapped shut. But as the officer pushed my head down into the back of the cruiser, my fingers brushed against the pocket of my coat.
May you like
The brass key. The forged pharmacy logs. And something else Arthur Vance had slipped into my pocket before I left. A tiny, voice-activated digital recorder.
And it had been running the entire time Matthew confessed to the fake stroke.
