Chapter 8
The room erupted into chaos.
“Lila?” Clara screamed, trying to sit up in bed, her monitors beeping wildly. “LILA!”
Robert ran out into the hallway, yelling her name. Ethan sprinted toward the stairwell. I called security, my hands shaking so bad I could barely dial the number.
Olivia grabbed Clara’s arm, trying to calm her down.
“Clara, stop,” she said firmly. “You’re going to make yourself sick. We’ll find her. I promise. We’ll find her.”
I ran out into the hallway. Nurses were staring, confused. Patients were peeking out of their rooms. There was no sign of Lila anywhere.
Robert came running back, his face white.
“She’s not on the floor,” he said. “I checked every room. Every bathroom. Every closet. She’s gone.”
“Security is on their way,” I said. “They’re locking down all the exits. No one gets in or out without being searched.”
Ethan came sprinting back, his phone to his ear.
“Police are on the way,” he said, hanging up. “I told them it was an Amber Alert. They’ll have helicopters up in ten minutes.”
My phone buzzed again.
Another text from the unknown number.
A photo. Lila, sitting in the backseat of a car, her eyes wide with fear, a gag around her mouth.
The text below:
Two million dollars. In unmarked bills. Bring it to the old warehouse on 35th and Halsted at midnight. Come alone. If I see one cop, the girl dies.
I showed the text to Robert.
He read it, his face hardening.
“I’m going,” he said. “I have the money. I can have it here in an hour.”
“No,” Ethan said. “It’s too dangerous. We don’t know who this is. It could be a trap. We let the police handle it.”
“Handle it?” Robert shouted. “My granddaughter has been kidnapped! Every second we wait is another second she’s scared! Another second something could go wrong! I’m not waiting for the police. I’m going to get her.”
“Dad’s right,” Olivia said, walking out of Clara’s room. She had her stethoscope off, her scrubs top replaced with a leather jacket. “The police will take too long. They’ll set up a perimeter, they’ll negotiate, they’ll do everything by the book, and by the time they get in there, it could be too late. We go in now. Just us. Quiet. Fast.”
She pulled a small handgun out of her waistband.
Ethan’s eyes widened.
“Where did you get that?”
“I’m a single woman who works night shifts in a hospital in Chicago,” she said, checking the clip. “I have a permit. Don’t worry. I know how to use it.”
I looked at the three of them. Robert, ready to burn the world down to get his granddaughter back. Ethan, already planning how to get into the warehouse without being seen. Olivia, calm and dangerous, ready to fight for the family she’d just found.
“I’m coming too,” I said.
“No,” Robert and Ethan said at the same time.
“It’s too dangerous,” Robert said. “I can’t lose you too.”
“Lila is my family too,” I said. “I’m not sitting here waiting. I’m coming. End of discussion.”
No one argued.
Thirty minutes later, we were in an unmarked SUV, driving toward the warehouse. Robert had the money in a duffel bag on the floor. Olivia had her gun tucked in the back of her jeans. Ethan had a crowbar he’d picked up from a hardware store on the way. I had my phone, set to record everything, ready to call 911 the second we had Lila safe.
The warehouse was in a derelict part of town. Abandoned factories. Empty lots. No streetlights. It was the perfect place for a kidnapping.
Ethan parked the car three blocks away.
“Okay,” he said, turning to us. “Plan. Robert, you go in the front door at five minutes to midnight. You bring the money. You keep them talking. You make sure Lila is okay. Olivia and I will go in through the loading dock at the back. We’ll circle around, get behind them. Ava, you stay by the front door. If you hear anything go wrong, you call the cops. Got it?”
We all nodded.
“Be careful,” I said, squeezing Ethan’s hand.
“Always,” he said, kissing me quickly.
We split up.
I hid behind a rusted dumpster across the street from the warehouse, my phone in my hand. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Every second felt like an hour.
Five minutes to midnight.
Robert walked up to the front door, the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He banged on the metal door three times.
It creaked open.
A man I’d never seen before stood there, holding a shotgun. He was big, with tattoos all over his neck, a scar running down his cheek.
“Money?” he grunted.
“Let me see the girl first,” Robert said, his voice steady.
The man stepped aside.
Robert walked in.
The door closed behind him.
I waited.
One minute. Two minutes. Five.
Nothing.
Then I heard it.
A gunshot.
Screaming.
Lila’s voice, crying, “Grandpa! Grandpa!”
I didn’t think. I ran.
I threw the front door open and ran inside.
The warehouse was huge, full of old crates and broken machinery. In the middle of the floor, under a single bare lightbulb, was Lila, tied to a chair, gagged, crying.
Robert was on the floor, holding his shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers. The big man with the shotgun was standing over him, the gun pointed at Robert’s head.
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And standing beside him, holding a knife to Lila’s throat, was Diane.
“Took you long enough,” she said, smiling at me. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.”
