Chapter 3 - A Name on the Wristband
The shot shattered a stained-glass panel, not a person. I knew that only because Luis shouted it while pushing us into the rain.
His real ambulance stood beyond the cemetery gate. We ran for it, Elise coughing against his shoulder. Mom climbed inside, and I grabbed the door as the engine started.
A white van rounded the far driveway. Its headlights swept across the tombstones. Somebody inside was watching us leave.
At Mercy General, Dr. Amita Patel examined Elise behind a curtain while two officers guarded the corridor. She found a powerful sedative in Elise's blood, bruising from restraint, and dangerous signs of oxygen deprivation.
“A few more minutes,” she told me, “and we might be having a different conversation.”
I looked at my sister's pale face. “Will she be okay?”
“She's stable. But she needs monitoring, and she doesn't need anyone pressuring her for answers.”
Elise caught my hand as the doctor stepped away.
“Dad,” she whispered.
My stomach tightened. “I heard his voice. Tell me where he is.”
Her fingers shook. She pointed at the hospital wristband someone had placed on her arm. Under her name was a date of birth, an emergency contact, and a physician's name: Dr. Harold Wynn.
“That's the man who declared you dead?” I asked.
Elise nodded once, then squeezed my hand harder.
“It's not his real name,” she rasped. “He doesn't have a medical license.”
Before I could ask anything else, Detective Mara Ellis entered. She had a rain-soaked jacket, tired eyes, and no patience for the two officers trying to keep her out.
“Pike escaped through the east door,” she said. “And the men in that van weren't police.”
Elise began shaking.
Mara held up a clipboard. “Someone just submitted a transfer order to move your sister to a private facility.”
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The signature at the bottom was my mother's.
Mom stared at it and whispered, “I never signed that.”
