Chapter 7 - THE PERSON BESIDE HER BED
Hannah woke to the sound of machines.
For several seconds she did not remember where she was.
Then her hand moved to her stomach.
Flat.
Panic exploded.
“My baby.”
Lena stood immediately from the chair beside the bed.
“He's okay.”
“Where?”
“NICU.”
“I need to see him.”
“You just had surgery.”
“I don't care.”
“Hannah.”
“I need my son.”
Twenty minutes later, a nurse wheeled her into the neonatal intensive care unit.
The baby looked impossibly small beneath the clear plastic isolette.
Tiny chest.
Tiny hands.
A breathing support device covering part of his face.
Hannah began crying before she reached him.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
She placed her hand through the opening.
His fingers curled weakly around one of hers.
That was all it took.
Every fear.
Every humiliation.
Every lonely dinner.
Every missed appointment.
Every hour wondering why Grant had chosen another woman.
For that moment, none of it mattered.
Her son existed.
He was alive.
“He needs a name,” Lena whispered.
Hannah looked at him.
She and Grant had argued playfully over names for months.
Grant wanted Vincent after his grandfather.
Hannah hated it.
She liked Noah.
Grant said Noah sounded like an accountant.
She suggested Benjamin.
Grant claimed there were already seven Benjamins in his family.
One name had always remained in the middle.
Thomas.
Hannah's late father's name.
Grant had once said, If he comes out looking exactly like you, you get Thomas.
The memory hurt.
“Thomas.”
Lena smiled.
“Thomas Whitmore?”
Hannah looked at the baby.
That was harder.
Whitmore came with money.
Protection.
Enemies.
Expectations.
But it was also Margaret.
Walter.
Rebecca.
Ethan.
Not only Grant.
“Thomas James Whitmore.”
James was Grant's middle name.
Lena noticed.
She did not comment.
Hannah whispered, “He deserves to know where he came from. Even if I hate where his father is right now.”
Across New York, Grant received the name through Agent Miller.
Thomas James Whitmore.
He sat down.
Hannah had given their son his middle name.
Hope was dangerous.
Grant did not allow himself much of it.
Then the investigation broke open.
Daniel Collins had remembered something.
Damian had repeatedly referred to “the nurse.”
Grant assumed he meant Hannah.
Daniel shook his head.
“No. He always said there were two nurses.”
Grant's expression changed.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
Nico pulled Hannah's medical network.
Doctors.
Nurses.
Technicians.
Lena Ortiz.
Grant stopped.
“No.”
Nico looked at him.
“Boss.”
“Lena has known Hannah for fifteen years.”
“That doesn't clear her.”
“She helped her disappear.”
“Exactly.”
Grant stood.
“Check her.”
They did.
Lena Ortiz had no obvious connection to Sloan Mercer.
No unexplained transfers.
No criminal record.
No family connection.
Nothing.
Then Nico found a photograph from nine years earlier.
A hospital charity gala.
Lena stood beside Hannah.
In the background, almost out of frame, was a young man.
Damian Mercer.
Grant's blood ran cold.
“Find another connection.”
They did.
Lena's younger brother, Mateo Ortiz, had been arrested eight years earlier on narcotics charges.
Charges dropped after a witness disappeared.
The attorney who represented him?
A Mercer family lawyer.
Grant immediately called the federal protective team.
“Separate Lena from Hannah.”
Agent Miller resisted.
“On what basis?”
“Do it.”
“We don't take operational orders from you.”
“She has a family connection to Mercer.”
Silence.
“How strong?”
“Strong enough.”
At the hospital, Lena entered Hannah's room carrying coffee.
“You look terrible.”
Hannah smiled weakly.
“Thank you.”
“Motherhood suits you.”
“Apparently exhaustion does too.”
Lena placed the coffee down.
A federal agent appeared at the door.
“Dr. Ortiz, we need to speak with you.”
Lena froze.
Only for half a second.
Hannah saw it.
“What is this?”
“Routine security review.”
Lena looked at Hannah.
Something in her eyes changed.
“Hannah, stay with the baby.”
“What?”
“Do not leave this floor.”
Hannah's chest tightened.
“Lena?”
Two agents moved closer.
Lena stepped back.
Then ran.
Everything happened at once.
An agent shouted.
A cart crashed.
Lena disappeared through the stairwell.
Hannah stared.
“No.”
Agent Miller rushed toward the door.
“What is happening?”
“Hannah, stay here.”
“Why is Lena running?”
He did not answer.
Hannah tried to stand.
Pain from surgery doubled her over.
Miller turned.
“Get back in bed.”
“My baby is downstairs.”
“He's protected.”
“How do I know that?”
Nobody answered.
That terrified her.
Lena reached the parking garage before agents caught her.
She fought hard enough to surprise everyone.
Inside her handbag they found two phones.
Her own.
And a burner.
The last outgoing message had been sent fifty-eight minutes earlier.
BOY STABLE. NAMED THOMAS.
Recipient:
Damian Mercer.
Hannah stopped speaking when they told her.
She had trusted Lena more than almost anyone.
Lena had held her during labor.
Had helped her flee.
Had slept beside her at the safehouse.
Betrayal began to feel endless.
Agent Miller sat across from Hannah.
“Lena claims Damian forced her.”
“How?”
“Her brother.”
Hannah laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“She says Mateo owes Mercer money and Damian threatened him.”
“So she sold me?”
“She claims she only provided information.”
“My medical records?”
“We're investigating.”
Hannah looked toward the NICU corridor.
“Did she know about the attack?”
“She says no.”
“Do you believe her?”
Miller did not answer.
Hannah closed her eyes.
“How does Grant live like this?”
“Like what?”
“Never knowing whether someone loves you or is using you.”
Miller's voice softened.
“Maybe that's why people like your husband become what they become.”
“No.”
Hannah opened her eyes.
“Don't make excuses for him.”
Miller nodded.
Fair.
Back in New York, Grant received confirmation.
Lena was the leak.
He sat in silence for a long time.
Then something unexpected happened.
Hannah sent him a text.
Not a call.
Not spoken words.
A text.
THOMAS IS ALIVE.
Grant stared at the screen.
He typed.
THANK GOD.
Deleted it.
I'M SORRY.
Deleted that too.
Finally:
I KNOW HIS NAME. IT'S PERFECT.
Three dots appeared.
Stopped.
Then Hannah wrote:
HE IS NOT PART OF YOUR BUSINESS.
Grant answered immediately.
HE NEVER WILL BE.
A pause.
Hannah:
PROMISES FROM YOU DON'T MEAN MUCH RIGHT NOW.
Grant closed his eyes.
She was right.
He typed:
THEN I WON'T ASK YOU TO BELIEVE ME. I'LL PROVE IT.
No response.
Grant put the phone down.
Then Nico entered.
“We found Mercer.”
Grant stood.
“Where?”
“Old Whitmore freight terminal in Newark.”
“Family?”
“Thermal scan shows four hostages.”
Walter.
Rebecca.
Ethan.
One extra.
“Who is the fourth?”
“We don't know.”
Grant looked at the building plans.
Mercer had chosen one of Grant's abandoned properties.
A message arrived from Damian.
MIDNIGHT.
COME ALONE.
Grant almost laughed.
No criminal actually believed another criminal would come alone.
Then the second message arrived.
A photograph of the fourth hostage.
Margaret.
Grant's mother.
His entire immediate family.
Bound inside the warehouse.
The third message contained only five words.
BRING HANNAH AND THE BOY.
Grant stared at it.
Damian had changed the deal.
Ports were no longer enough.
May you like
He wanted Hannah.
And Grant's newborn son.
