Chapter 3 - The Hospital Trail
The digital clock on the dashboard read 3:45 a.m. as Officer Ruiz’s cruiser led my car through the silent, sleeping streets toward St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital downtown.
We had left Lily safely tucked in with my mother, who swore she wouldn't close her eyes until we returned. The other infant—Baby Girl Wells—was currently resting in a specialized carrier in the back of Ruiz’s cruiser, accompanied by a female officer and a pediatric paramedic to ensure she was medically stable after her midnight journey.
At the hospital emergency admissions desk, Officer Ruiz flashed his badge. The night-shift administrator, a tired-looking woman with reading glasses perched on her nose, blinked sleepily at the gold shield.
‘We need birth records and discharge logs for any infant discharged or born under the surname Wells within the last seventy-two hours,’ Ruiz demanded quietly.
The administrator tapped away at her terminal, the rhythmic click of the keyboard echoing in the empty lobby. ‘Let’s see... Wells, Vanessa. Admitted four days ago. Delivered a female infant at 6:14 p.m. on Thursday.’
‘And who authorized the discharge?’ Nora stepped forward, her presence commanding immediate attention.
‘Standard pediatric discharge protocol requires a verified maternal signature and a designated family member or transport service,’ the administrator replied, turning the monitor slightly. ‘Wait... that’s irregular. The discharge paperwork lists a private escort service arranged by... let me check the billing code... billed directly to Mercer Commercial Real Estate.’
Nora and I exchanged a sharp glance. Caleb didn't just coordinate it; he funded it.
‘Where is Vanessa Wells now?’ Ruiz asked, leaning over the counter. ‘We need her address immediately.’
Ten minutes later, we were back in our cars, cutting through the empty city grid toward a quiet apartment complex on the industrial edge of town. The rain had begun to mist against the windshield, blurring the neon streetlights into long, bleeding streaks of red and yellow.
When we pulled up to Apartment 4B of the Maplewood complex, the windows were completely dark. No lights. No sound.
Ruiz stepped up to the door, knocking firmly three times. ‘Police department! Open up!’
Silence answered him.
Ruiz tried the knob. It turned with a soft click. The door swung open a few inches into a pitch-black living room.
I held my breath as Ruiz drew his flashlight, sweeping the beam across the small, sparse apartment. Moving boxes were stacked against the walls. A crib sat in the corner—completely empty, its mobile hanging limply in the stale air. On the kitchen counter, a half-packed suitcase lay open, surrounded by crumpled tissues and a torn hospital discharge folder.
Vanessa Wells hadn't just left; she had been packed up and moved out in the middle of the night.
May you like
And on the kitchen table, pinned beneath a heavy coffee mug, was a handwritten note scrawled in frantic, tear-stained handwriting:
If you’re reading this, he found out I talked. He said if I didn't give him the baby for one night, he’d make sure I never saw her again. I’m sorry. God forgive me.
