Chapter 11 - The Trap in the Lobby
I stepped out of Toby's hospital room, closing the door quietly behind me.
Detective Miller stood near the nurse's station, reviewing the Amber Alert logs on his tablet.
I held up the micro-SD card between my fingers.
"Miller," I said, my voice cold as iron. "We need a laptop. Right now."
Ten minutes later, inside a private doctor's office, Miller inserted the chip into his department computer.
The screen loaded three encrypted video files.
The first file showed Victoria Vance in the nursery at midnight, carefully dropping synthetic metabolic blockers into her daughter's formula bottle.
The second file showed the entry hallway of Clara's apartment building six hours ago.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a leather jacket—a known private enforcer named Marcus—forced his way into Clara's apartment at gunpoint.
He dragged Clara out through the rear exit, while Toby was forced to carry the baby to the blue minivan at gunpoint.
"Jesus," Miller breathed, his hands flying across his keyboard. "The mother isn't on the run. She's being held at Vance's private marina estate in Long Island."
Suddenly, the hospital elevator doors at the end of the hall chimed with a sharp ring.
DING.
Stepping out into the hallway, flanked by two high-priced defense attorneys and three private security guards, was Richard Vance.
He looked distinguished, wealthy, and utterly furious.
"Detective!" Richard Vance barked, stepping toward Miller. "I was informed my stolen daughter was brought to this facility! Where is she? Where is the maid who took her?!"
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I stepped in front of the ICU doors, blocking his path, my arms folded across my chest.
"She's not here, Mr. Vance," I said flatly.
