“I’m going downstairs,” he says. “Security desk, garage cameras, street cams if they’ll share. I’ll pull what we can.”
“Go,” I tell him.
He nods to Clara. “You need anything, you tell the nurse to call for Officer Durov.”
“Bring me a cinnamon roll and my sister,” she says. “In that order.”
He smiles for the first time all day, then leaves.
The room is quiet, except for the beeping of the heart monitor. I sit in the visitor chair and fold my hands.
“I owe you honesty,” I say.
“Yes, you do,” Clara replies. “And an apology. But start with honesty.”
“I love your sister,” I begin. The truth sits clean between us.
Clara studies me. “You don’t look like a man who says things he doesn’t mean.”
“I’m not. And I intend to keep her safe.” I pause and hold her gaze. “To keepthemsafe.”
Her eyes flash. Her voice lowers. “You know.”
“I do. I will protect Cassandra and our child with everything I am.”
Clara swallows. Color skates across her cheekbones. “I wanted her to have a boring life.”
“She won’t,” I say with a small smile. “But she will have a safe one. That I can provide.”
Clara gives me a genuine smile. It is permission. “Then do whatever it takes.”
“I will.”
My phone buzzes with a text from Alex.
You need to see this.
I’m on my way.
I turn back to Clara. “I’ll bring her home.”
“You’d better,” she says.
I leave the room, take the elevator down, and walk the long clinical hall to the security office. Alex is inside with a supervisor who understands our urgency without needing the story. Two guards lean over a bank of monitors.
Alex points at a frozen frame. “Start here,” he tells the guard. The footage rolls.
We glance at the time stamp on the lobby camera, it’s early morning. Cassandra’s hood is up, her head down, moving like a woman on a mission who does not want to be noticed. She crosses the frame and vanishes into a blind spot.
“Next,” Alex says.
East garage elevator. The doors open. She steps out, a duffle bag on her shoulder. She looks left, then right. She moves toward the exit ramp. Two men split off from a column and seamlessly fall in behind her. I feel heat climb the back of my neck and try to keep my hands still.
The angle changes. The first man closes in and presses a gun into her ribs from behind. The second takes her elbow. They steer her toward an unmarked parked van. She goes stiff for a second, then forces herself to walk. She does not panic.
That’s my girl.
My jaw twitches. I let the rage form but stay calm. There is more to see. We watch another camera view where the van door slides open and another man reaches out, cupping her head and forcing her in. The door shuts. The van drives away.
