Chapter 6 - THE MAN IN ROOM ZERO
There was no Room Zero on Harbor Mercy's official floor plan.
Mary checked twice.
The hospital had six operating suites, four intensive care units, and a basement level containing storage, maintenance offices, and the outreach clinic.
Nothing else.
But Angela remembered something.
"There's a restricted wing behind the old pathology department."
Mary looked up.
"Restricted how?"
"Private patients. Long-term care. No electronic records in our system."
"Who runs it?"
Angela hesitated.
"Voss Medical Holdings."
Mary's blood turned cold.
At 1:12 a.m., she and Angela entered the old pathology corridor.
The lights flickered.
A security camera rotated above a steel door.
Mary approached the access panel.
"Do you have a badge?"
Angela shook her head.
"Not for this wing."
Then a voice spoke behind them.
"Step away from the door."
They turned.
Dr. Evelyn Park stood at the end of the corridor.
She wore a dark coat over her scrubs.
Mary lifted her chin.
"If you're going to report us, do it."
Park approached.
"Report you to whom?"
"Hospital administration."
Park looked toward the camera.
"Administration doesn't know half of what happens down here."
Mary stared at her.
"You know about this wing?"
Park nodded.
"I've suspected something for years."
"Then why didn't you investigate?"
"Because the last physician who asked questions lost his license, his house, and custody of his children."
Mary's expression changed.
Park reached into her pocket.
A security badge.
"Ten minutes," she said. "That's all I can give you."
The door clicked open.
Beyond it stretched a narrow hallway lined with private rooms.
Most were empty.
At the end stood a door marked with a single black circle.
Mary approached.
Her hands were shaking.
She pushed it open.
A man lay in a hospital bed beneath a dim reading lamp.
He was thin.
Gray-haired.
His left hand rested motionless beside him.
A feeding tube disappeared beneath his blanket.
Mary stared.
She had spent ten years imagining her father's face.
In her dreams, he was always forty-three.
Strong.
Laughing.
Smelling faintly of motor oil.
The man in the bed looked seventy.
But the scar above his right eyebrow was unmistakable.
"Dad?"
His eyes opened.
Mary stopped breathing.
"Daniel?"
The man turned his head slowly.
His lips moved.
No sound came out.
Mary crossed the room and took his hand.
"It's Mary."
His eyes filled with tears.
"It's your little girl."
His fingers twitched.
Mary began crying.
Not quietly.
Not gracefully.
The sound came from somewhere so deep inside her that Angela turned away.
For ten years, Mary had believed her father abandoned her.
For ten years, she had built a life around that wound.
And now he was here.
Alive.
Hidden beneath the hospital where she worked.
Daniel tried to speak.
Mary leaned closer.
"Don't strain yourself."
His lips moved again.
She heard one word.
"Run."
Mary froze.
"Dad?"
Daniel's eyes widened.
He gripped her hand with surprising strength.
"Run."
The lights went out.
Angela screamed.
A metallic crash echoed through the hallway.
Emergency lighting flooded the room in red.
Mary heard footsteps.
Several people.
Moving quickly.
She locked the door.
"Angela, call security."
"No signal."
Mary looked at Daniel.
He was struggling to lift his hand.
Pointing toward the wall.
A small medical cabinet stood beside the bed.
Mary opened it.
Inside was a plastic folder containing years of treatment records.
And a photograph.
Vincent Martini.
Standing beside Eleanor Voss.
Taken only six months earlier.
Mary stared at it.
"No."
A voice sounded through the door.
"Dr. Andrews, open up."
Mary recognized it.
Rico Castellano.
She stepped backward.
Angela whispered, "What do we do?"
Mary looked at her father.
Then at the photograph.
Then at the locked door.
"Find another exit."
Rico knocked again.
"Mary, I don't want anyone hurt."
She answered coldly.
"Then walk away."
Silence.
Then Rico said something she would remember for the rest of her life.
"Vincent didn't know your father was here."
Mary felt a flicker of hope.
May you like
Until Rico added:
"But his father wasn't the one who put him here."
