Chapter 3 - THE SECOND ATTACK
The surgeon placed a clear plastic tube on the consultation-room table.
“A sedative,” Dr. Elaine Ward said. “Far too much of it.”
Harrison stared at the tube. “Was it administered in the ambulance?”
“No. The line was changed during intake.”
Richard leaned forward. “Are you saying someone drugged my wife inside this hospital?”
Dr. Ward looked directly at him. “I’m saying someone tried to make sure she didn’t wake up.”
The room went silent.
Harrison called Detective Morales. Within minutes, hospital security sealed the surgical floor.
A nurse named Peter Voss had accessed Khloe’s chart using another employee’s badge. Camera footage showed him entering the trauma bay carrying a medication tray, then leaving through a service elevator.
“No employment record,” Morales said. “Fake credentials.”
“Find him,” Harrison replied.
Richard paced near the window. “This is insane. Vanessa lost control, but she isn’t capable of organizing something like this.”
Harrison turned. “You sound certain.”
“I know her.”
The words landed badly.
Richard realized it and looked away.
A neonatal doctor entered. “The baby girl is alive. She’s early and under stress, but she’s fighting.”
Harrison’s knees nearly gave out.
“Can I see her?”
“Briefly.”
He followed the doctor into the NICU. The baby was impossibly small beneath the lights, a clear tube helping her breathe. One tiny hand opened and closed against the blanket.
Harrison pressed two fingers to the glass.
“Your mother fought for you,” he whispered. “Now I’m going to fight for both of you.”
His phone vibrated again.
The unknown number had sent a photograph.
It showed Vanessa entering a black SUV behind the courthouse. The license plate was visible.
Below the photograph was a second message.
RICHARD DIDN’T PLAN THE PUSH.
HE PLANNED EVERYTHING AFTER IT.
Harrison forwarded the image to Morales.
When he returned to the waiting room, Richard was gone.
A nurse said he had received a call and left through the west stairwell.
Harrison checked the family-tracking app Khloe had once installed on Richard’s phone. Richard had disabled sharing months earlier, but Harrison’s forensic team had cloned the cloud backup during the divorce investigation.
The phone was moving east.
Toward the river.
Toward a warehouse owned by a Harrington shell company.
Morales grabbed her coat. “We go now.”
Before they reached the elevator, Dr. Ward ran into the hallway.
“Harrison!”
He turned.
“Khloe woke up for twelve seconds,” the surgeon said. “She tried to say one word.”
“What word?”
May you like
Dr. Ward swallowed.
“Fire.”
