Chapter 7 - The Second Rescue

The foster mother had been attacked in her driveway.

A man wearing medical scrubs claimed Noah needed emergency testing.

She asked for identification.

He sprayed something into her face.

She woke twenty minutes later.

Noah was gone.

An Amber Alert spread across the state.

Preston’s car was found abandoned near an industrial park.

Inside was Noah’s empty carrier.

Ashley broke down.

“This is because I came to court.”

“No.”

I crouched beside her.

“This is because they’re afraid.”

Ortiz traced Preston’s burner phone.

One call pinged near a private pediatric rehabilitation center.

The center had recently received a large donation from a Caldwell foundation.

Police surrounded it.

Noah was not there.

But Dr. Morris was.

He surrendered.

He looked terrified.

“I never wanted the baby hurt.”

Ortiz asked where Noah was.

Morris refused until a lawyer arrived.

I lost control.

“A child is missing.”

Ortiz pushed me back.

Morris finally spoke.

Grant had asked him months earlier to document Noah as developmentally delayed.

Morris refused.

Preston offered money.

Morris accepted.

Then Grant demanded stronger diagnoses.

Morris falsified records.

The scheme escalated.

“What happened at the window?”

Morris began crying.

“I wasn’t there.”

“Who was?”

“Grant.”

“And Vanessa?”

“Yes.”

“Preston?”

“Downstairs.”

My stomach tightened.

“Downstairs where?”

“In a car.”

Waiting.

For the fall.

Morris said Grant planned to lower Noah from the window using a concealed harness.

The baby would appear to fall but stop one floor below.

Then a staged rescue would occur.

But Ashley interrupted.

Grant panicked.

The harness was never attached correctly.

Noah actually fell.

I happened to catch him.

The fake city complaint ensured I would be nearby, but Grant never expected me to be directly beneath the window.

Their staged accident became a real one.

Then they adapted.

They blamed me.

“Where is Noah now?”

Morris whispered.

“Grant took him.”

“Where?”

“To Evelyn’s old summer house.”

Claire knew the property.

A cliffside home beside Lake Mercer.

Police raced there.

The house was empty.

A bottle was warm in the kitchen.

A diaper lay on the floor.

They had left minutes earlier.

On the nursery wall, Grant had written one sentence.

CLAIRE FOR THE BABY.

He wanted his sister.

Claire read it without blinking.

“I’m going.”

Ortiz refused.

Claire turned to me.

“He has Noah because I’m alive.”

“No.”

“He has Noah because he’s a monster.”

Claire looked at the message again.

“Monsters still make trades.”

Then her phone rang.

Grant.

Claire answered.

His voice came through speaker.

“Come alone.”

A baby cried in the background.

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Then Grant said, “Or this time, nobody catches him.”