Chapter 9 - The Anonymous Warning
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"Lock down St. Catherine's Hospital right now!" I roared, grabbing Detective Ruiz by her collar. "My kids are in that nursery!"
Ruiz didn't hesitate. She whipped out her radio, issuing an immediate Code Red security lockdown for the neonatal wing at St. Catherine’s. Within seconds, police cruisers were dispatched to secure every exit of the hospital.
We tore through the rainy streets of Atlanta, sirens blaring, running red lights as my heart hammered violently against my ribs.
When we burst through the main doors of St. Catherine’s Medical Center, the lobby was in complete chaos. Tactical officers armed with rifles were securing the elevators, while frightened nurses and patients watched from behind desks.
I sprinted up four flights of stairs, bypassing the elevators entirely, and burst into the neonatal wing.
Two armed police officers stood outside the glass nursery. Inside, the nurses were standing beside the three incubators, holding Noah, Elliot, and Grace safely in their arms.
I leaned against the glass, pressing my palm against the cool surface, letting out a ragged breath as I saw my babies breathing peacefully. They were safe.
"Mr. Sloane!"
I turned to see Detective Ruiz coming down the hall, accompanied by a young uniformed officer holding an iPad.
"We pulled the hospital’s external perimeter footage from thirty minutes ago," Ruiz said, gesturing to the iPad screen. "Look at this."
The video showed the rear service entrance of the hospital. A sleek black sedan was parked in the shadows. At 1:15 AM, a woman wearing blue hospital scrubs walked out of the building, carrying a gym bag. She approached the sedan, opened the passenger door, and handed the bag to the driver.
The driver turned his head slightly toward the camera light, revealing his profile for a split second.
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He had a distinct, jagged scar running from his left ear down to his jawline. His hair was thin and grey, but his eyes were sharp, cold, and instantly recognizable.
"Daniel," I breathed out, the rage rising in my throat like acid. "It's Daniel Price."
