Chapter 6 - SEVENTEEN MINUTES
For seventeen minutes, I stopped being a businesswoman.
I stopped being strategic.
I became a grandmother whose newborn granddaughter had vanished.
The hospital locked down immediately.
Elevators froze.
Security sealed exits.
Police flooded the maternity floor.
Cora was still sedated.
She didn’t know.
I intended to keep it that way until we found the baby.
Frank obtained surveillance footage.
A woman in neonatal scrubs had entered the nursery using a valid access badge.
She placed my granddaughter in a transport bassinet and rolled her toward the service elevator.
Nobody stopped her.
Why would they?
She looked like she belonged there.
The badge belonged to a nurse who had called in sick that morning.
The woman was an impostor.
At 5:18 p.m., my phone rang.
Marcus.
“You have something that belongs to me,” he said.
My voice shook despite every effort.
“She is not something.”
“My daughter.”
“The daughter you were willing to risk killing.”
“I never wanted the baby harmed.”
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
I closed my eyes.
“What do you want?”
“Thomas’s archive.”
He knew about it.
“Why?”
“You already know why.”
“The evidence.”
“Yes.”
“If I give it to you?”
“My daughter comes home.”
“And you disappear?”
“That would be best for everyone.”
I nearly laughed.
He still thought negotiation meant control.
“Where?”
“I’ll contact you.”
The line went dead.
Naomi had listened.
“Absolutely not.”
“He has my granddaughter.”
“And if you hand over the evidence, you lose leverage.”
“I’m not handing over anything.”
She studied me.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking Marcus has never understood the difference between possession and ownership.”
I called David.
“Create a duplicate archive.”
“Already done.”
“Good. Make another.”
Then I called the FBI contact Thomas had trusted years earlier.
By 6:00 p.m., federal agents joined the investigation.
Marcus contacted me at 6:23.
A parking structure in Queens.
One hour.
Come alone.
Bring the original drive.
Of course I did neither.
Frank placed a tracker inside the folder.
The drive contained convincing copies with several corrupted files.
Enough to make Marcus believe it was real.
At 7:14, I entered the parking garage.
Alone in appearance.
Not in reality.
Marcus stepped from behind a concrete column.
He wasn’t wearing a suit anymore.
Jeans.
Dark jacket.
Baseball cap.
For the first time, he looked less like a celebrated surgeon and more like a fugitive.
“Where’s the baby?”
“Drive.”
“Baby first.”
His jaw tightened.
“You’re not in a position to dictate terms.”
“You kidnapped a newborn from a Manhattan hospital. Every police department between here and Canada is looking for you.”
“Give me the drive.”
“Let me see her.”
He raised his phone.
Live video.
My granddaughter slept inside a bassinet.
Beside her sat a woman.
I recognized her.
Melissa Crane.
Marcus’s executive assistant.
She had attended Cora’s baby shower.
“Where?”
“Drive.”
I held up the folder.
Marcus approached.
Then stopped.
“You wired?”
“No.”
“Open your coat.”
I did.
He came closer.
For one second, we stood three feet apart.
“You could have walked away,” he said.
“So could you.”
“You have no idea what Thomas did.”
That caught me.
“What did Thomas do?”
“He built an empire by crushing everyone around him.”
“Is that what Richard told you?”
Marcus’s expression changed.
There.
Confirmation.
“Richard used you,” I said.
Marcus laughed.
“Richard made me rich.”
“And now he’s in Canada while you’re standing in a parking garage bargaining with an old woman.”
His face hardened.
I had struck the nerve.
“You think you’re clever.”
“I think Richard abandoned you.”
“He didn’t.”
“Call him.”
Silence.
“Go ahead.”
Marcus stared at me.
“He stopped answering, didn’t he?”
His eyes betrayed him.
Richard had fled.
Marcus had finally realized he was expendable.
I lowered my voice.
“Tell me where my granddaughter is, Marcus.”
“Give me the drive.”
“You know what happens after you get it?”
“What?”
“Richard kills you.”
For the first time, fear entered his face.
Then headlights exploded across the garage.
A black SUV accelerated toward us.
Marcus turned.
“Down!”
He grabbed me and pulled me behind a pillar as bullets struck concrete.
Federal agents returned fire.
The SUV crashed through a barrier and stopped.
The driver fled.
Marcus stared at the shattered windshield.
“That was Richard.”
I looked at him.
“Now do you believe me?”
His breathing came fast.
“He knows where Melissa is.”
“Then tell us.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Brooklyn.”
“Where?”
“An apartment on Water Street.”
Agents moved immediately.
Marcus caught my wrist.
“Eleanor.”
I looked down at his hand.
He released me.
“There’s something you need to know.”
“What?”
“Richard didn’t kill Thomas.”
My heart stopped.
“Then who did?”
Marcus looked directly at me.
“Thomas killed himself.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
“He discovered Richard’s theft. He discovered mine. But that isn’t why.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Thomas was sick.”
“Stop.”
“Terminal brain cancer.”
“You’re lying.”
“He had three months.”
My voice disappeared.
Marcus continued.
“He made me promise not to tell you.”
I stepped backward.
Four years of grief shifted beneath my feet.
“Then why did he write your initials?”
Marcus looked at me with something almost like shame.
“Because I betrayed him before he died.”
A phone rang behind us.
Frank answered.
Then looked at me.
“They found the apartment.”
I forgot Thomas.
Forgot Marcus.
Forgot everything.
“Baby?”
Frank’s face softened.
“Alive.”
My knees buckled.
May you like
But his next words brought the fear back.
“Melissa’s gone.”
