Chapter 6 - The Wrong Ambulance.
Roman reached St. Catherine's in nine minutes and found chaos contained behind professional voices.
The unconscious officer had been struck with a sedative injector and left breathing but unresponsive.
The false nurse had used a stolen badge belonging to a woman on maternity leave.
Security footage showed Della slumped in the wheelchair with a blanket pulled to her chin.
Her hands did not move.
“She was drugged.”
The doctor nodded.
“We found an empty vial in the room.”
“What did they give her?”
“We do not know yet.”
Roman watched the recording again.
The false nurse turned left at the elevator, but her reflection in the metal doors revealed a man walking behind her.
The man had a scar beside his left ear.
Graham Voss.
Malik contacted every private ambulance company in the city.
One vehicle had left the hospital service entrance without a scheduled patient transfer.
Its tracking unit stopped transmitting near the industrial docks.
Roman ordered his driver toward the river while Naomi called a judge for an emergency warrant.
The marriage certificate lay protected inside a plastic evidence sleeve against Roman's chest.
It proved Della had a legal claim.
It also made her more valuable as a hostage.
Rain hammered the windshield as Malik traced traffic cameras.
The ambulance appeared twice before disappearing beneath an elevated highway.
A delivery driver reported seeing it enter the abandoned Blackwood cold-storage complex.
Roman knew the building.
His grandfather had used it before converting the family business into luxury hotels.
The complex contained underground loading tunnels and industrial freezers large enough to hide vehicles.
Police units were still twenty minutes away when Roman arrived.
Malik told him to wait.
Roman took a tire iron from the trunk.
“My brother waited for people to act lawfully.”
“And he died.”
“Exactly.”
Malik swore under his breath and followed.
They entered through a broken loading door.
The building smelled of rust, river water, and old chemicals.
A portable medical monitor beeped somewhere beyond the freezer corridor.
Roman moved toward the sound.
He found the ambulance parked beneath a flickering light with both rear doors open.
Blood marked the metal step.
Inside lay Della's hospital bracelet and a strip of white blanket.
A woman's cry echoed from below.
Roman ran toward the service stairs.
Malik caught him at the landing.
“Listen.”
Two male voices argued beneath them.
One belonged to Graham.
“The vote is already delayed.”
The second voice was distorted by the concrete walls.
“Then obtain her signature.”
“She is barely conscious.”
“A fingerprint will satisfy the temporary transfer.”
Roman recognized Charles.
They descended silently.
Della sat strapped to a metal chair inside the old packing room.
An intravenous line ran into her arm.
Her face was gray, but both hands guarded her belly as far as the restraints allowed.
Graham held a document beneath her fingers.
Charles stood near a portable heater, dry and immaculate despite the storm.
“You should have let the girl leave the country.”
Della lifted her head.
“Evan said you were afraid of the truth.”
Charles smiled without warmth.
“Evan confused fear with responsibility.”
“You murdered him.”
“I prevented him from destroying a structure that supports thousands of lives.”
“You stole from sick children.”
Charles's expression hardened.
“Do not pretend you understand institutions because you changed bed linens in a clinic.”
Graham pressed Della's thumb toward an ink pad.
Roman stepped through the doorway.
“Take your hand off her.”
Every face turned.
Charles recovered first.
“You came without police.”
“I came without permission.”
Graham drew a pistol from beneath his jacket.
Malik appeared behind a support column and aimed at him.
“Drop it.”
Graham seized Della by the shoulder and pressed the barrel against her ribs.
She gasped as pain crossed her stomach.
Roman stopped moving.
Charles looked almost disappointed.
“You always relied on force when patience would have served you.”
“You always called cowardice patience.”
Roman held up the marriage certificate.
“The trust vote is finished.”
Charles stared at the document.
For the first time, control slipped from his face.
“Give it to me.”
“Release her.”
Graham tightened his hold.
Della's eyes met Roman's.
She looked toward the portable heater.
A clear oxygen tube from the medical kit ran near its open flame.
Roman understood the warning.
He threw the certificate toward Charles.
Graham turned instinctively.
Della kicked the oxygen cylinder with both feet.
It rolled into the heater and knocked it sideways.
Flames climbed a curtain of plastic sheeting.
Malik fired at the ceiling light.
Darkness crashed over the room.
Roman crossed the distance by memory.
He struck Graham's gun hand and heard the weapon hit concrete.
Della screamed as the chair tipped.
Roman caught it before she struck the floor.
Malik restrained Graham while Charles disappeared through a rear door.
Smoke filled the packing room.
Roman cut Della's restraints with a utility blade.
Her skin burned with fever.
“My baby is not moving.”
Roman lifted her carefully.
“We are leaving.”
She gripped his jacket.
“Do not lose the certificate.”
Roman looked toward the flames.
Charles had taken the original.
Naomi had photographed it, but photographs could be challenged.
He carried Della through the tunnel as sirens approached.
Halfway to the exit, warm fluid soaked his sleeve beneath her knees.
Della looked down and began shaking.
“My water broke.”
The ambulance outside belonged to real paramedics this time.
They placed her on a stretcher and confirmed she was in premature labor.
Roman climbed in beside her.
Malik remained behind with Graham and the police.
Before the doors closed, an officer ran toward Roman holding a black phone recovered from Graham.
A message glowed on the screen.
May you like
The child must not survive the vote.
It had been sent from Celeste's number.
