Chapter 2 - THREE STITCHESLauren kept her eyes on Josie.
“Dr. Greiss, I need a pediatric emergency team in the lobby. Now.”
The laughter stopped.
Greiss folded his arms. “The child has been referred to county services.”
“The baby is unresponsive.”
“You haven't examined him.”
“Then let me.”
“Not until we establish who these children belong to.”
Lauren slowly turned her head.
“Doctor, if you want to discuss paperwork, do it while someone checks that baby's airway.”
Imani Brooks was already reaching for the emergency phone.
Greiss glared at her. “I didn't authorize that.”
“No,” Imani replied, “but I have eyes.”
She disappeared behind the reception desk and called the pediatric emergency unit.
One of the doctors lowered his phone.
Brandt didn't.
“Careful, Pierce,” he said. “You might want to think about your employment before you start playing hero.”
Lauren ignored him.
“Josie, can I see your brother?”
The little girl shook her head violently.
“No. They said they'd take him.”
“Who said that?”
Josie's eyes flicked toward the men by the entrance.
Lauren followed her gaze without turning her body.
The taller man had removed his sunglasses. He was in his late forties, with a narrow face and a scar running from his right temple to his cheekbone. His companion remained near the door, watching the reception desk.
“Sweetheart, nobody is taking your brother away from you right now,” Lauren said. “But I need to know whether he's breathing.”
Josie began to cry without making a sound.
“He was breathing when Mommy gave him to me.”
Lauren felt her stomach tighten.
“When was that?”
“Before the men came.”
“What men?”
“The men who said Mommy was lying.”
A nurse hurried into the lobby with a pediatric emergency cart. Behind her came Dr. Lena Ortiz, a pediatrician whose reputation for compassion had survived several years of working under Greiss.
“Let's see him,” Ortiz said.
Josie backed away.
Lauren placed both hands on the marble, keeping herself at the child's eye level.
“Remember the gloves?”
Josie's gaze snapped back to hers.
“Three stitches,” Lauren whispered. “You helped me pick the fishing line.”
The girl's lips parted.
“You remember?”
“Every single stitch.”
“You said you'd come back.”
The words landed harder than any accusation.
Four years earlier, Lauren had sat beside a frightened little girl in a safe house in Virginia. She had been a temporary pediatric nurse assigned to a protection detail after a witness's family received threats.
The child had been called Josephine Vale.
Josie.
Her mother had been preparing to testify against a group of contractors accused of selling sensitive military medical records. The family had been moved twice. Lauren had stayed with them during a period when the mother could not leave the house without security.
Then an operation had gone wrong.
Lauren had been ordered to leave the safe house for a medical emergency elsewhere. By the time she returned, the family had disappeared.
She had been told the witness and her daughter were safe.
She had never been told where they went.
She had never been told why her assignment was terminated.
And she had never forgotten the little girl who cried when Lauren left.
Now that same girl stood barefoot in a naval hospital, carrying a silent baby.
“Josie,” Lauren whispered, “I am here now.”
The girl finally loosened her grip on the cloth wrap.
Dr. Ortiz carefully lifted the baby from Josie's back and laid him on the emergency cart.
He was tiny, perhaps six months old, with damp hair and grayish lips. His breathing was shallow, his skin cold.
“Get me a pediatric monitor,” Ortiz ordered. “And warm blankets.”
Lauren touched the baby's cheek.
Cold.
Too cold.
“What's his name?” Ortiz asked.
“Eli.”
“Has he been sick?”
Josie nodded.
“Mommy said his heart medicine was missing.”
Ortiz looked up sharply.
“Heart medicine?”
“He takes a little white liquid. Mommy puts it in his bottle.”
“Did he receive any today?”
“I don't know. Mommy was crying.”
Lauren glanced at the yellow gloves lying on the cart.
One cuff bore the three black stitches.
The other had a small tear near the thumb.
There was something inside the lining.
A narrow piece of folded paper, almost hidden beneath the rubber.
Lauren didn't reach for it.
Not yet.
“Josie,” she said, “I need you to tell me what happened after your mother gave you Eli.”
The girl looked toward the men again.
“They came to the house. Mommy told me to hide in the laundry room. She said if I heard three knocks, I should go to the blue nurse.”
Lauren's blood ran cold.
“Did someone knock?”
Josie nodded.
“Mommy knocked three times. Then she gave me the gloves and Eli.”
“What happened to your mother?”
“She told me to run.”
“Did you see her leave?”
Josie's face crumpled.
“No.”
Lauren wanted to pull the girl into her arms. She resisted the impulse until Josie reached for her first.
Then Lauren held her.
The child's entire body trembled against her chest.
Across the lobby, the taller man started walking toward them.
“Excuse me,” he called. “That child is involved in a family matter. We need to take her into protective custody.”
Lauren rose slowly.
“Your identification, please.”
The man reached inside his jacket.
Every instinct Lauren possessed told her to keep her distance.
Instead of identification, he produced a badge.
It was government-issued.
The seal looked genuine.
The name beneath it read MARCUS VOSS — FEDERAL PROTECTIVE SERVICES.
“Step aside, nurse.”
Dr. Greiss seized the opportunity.
“Finally. Someone with authority.”
But Imani had moved from behind the desk.
“Sir, I haven't received any notice that these children are under protective custody.”
Voss turned toward her.
“Do you intend to interfere with a federal operation?”
“No,” Imani said. “I intend to document who removes a sick infant from a medical facility.”
For the first time, Voss looked uncertain.
Lauren met his gaze.
“Until a physician clears this baby, he stays here.”
“You don't have the authority to make that decision.”
“Then call whoever does.”
Voss's jaw tightened.
He touched his ear again.
The second man near the entrance immediately reached for his phone.
Lauren recognized the movement.
It wasn't a casual gesture.
It was a signal.
She had seen it four years ago, in the safe house, moments before the security team arrived to relocate Josie and her mother.
But those men had worn different badges.
And one of them had died during the operation.
Lauren looked down at the gloves.
The three stitches.
The hidden paper.
Her past had not simply found her again.
It had followed a child through a storm to the one place where someone had expected Lauren to be.
Then Dr. Ortiz looked at the monitor and swore under her breath.
“His oxygen saturation is dropping.”
She turned toward the emergency doors.
“Get him to the pediatric resuscitation bay!”
As the team rushed the baby away, Josie clutched Lauren's hand.
“Don't let them take me.”
Lauren tightened her grip.
“I won't.”
Behind them, Marcus Voss smiled.
It was a small, confident smile.
“That's a promise you might regret, Nurse Pierce.”
May you like
And as the emergency doors swung shut, the hospital's internal security system sounded an alarm.
Someone had just locked down the pediatric unit from an administrator's terminal.
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