“Somewhere in that building and I’ve got to help Sinclair and the police find her.” Evangeline looked out the window. “Looks like Sanchez found a paramedic. I think you should get checked at the hospital. You don’t want to pass whatever Charlene gave you on to Robert in your breast milk.”
“No, I don’t.” Hannah sat up tall. “Maria—Sanchez—said something to me that helped me so much.”
“Yeah?”
“She said, ‘Something bad happened to you and you can’t change that. It’s how you manage it going forward that shapes who you are. You can be a victim or you can be a survivor’.” Hannah smiled. “I choose survivor.”
Relief and gratitude coursed through her. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I hate Charlene, and I will do whatever I can to make sure she spends the rest of her evil life in prison.”
Sanchez knocked on the window and Evangeline opened the door. “Paramedics want to take Hannah and Robert to the hospital,” Sanchez said. “I can go with her if you need to get inside.”
Evangeline turned back to Hannah for confirmation.
“Find her,” Hannah said. “Don’t let her get away with what she’s done.”
Evangeline exited the vehicle and thanked Sanchez. “If Hannah can use your phone to call our mom, she can meet you guys at the hospital.”
“I’ve got this,” Sanchez replied.
Evangeline took off toward the building, more determined than ever to find Charlene.
* * *
His weapon in hand, Sin exited the pristine surgery center and powered toward Charlene’s corner office. Motivated by revenge, he would not leave the premises until she’d been found.
“Sin, I have an update,” Evangeline said through the comm.
“I’m here,” he whispered.
“One of the officers confirmed her Mercedes is still parked in her reserved spot and she’s not hiding in it.”
“She wasn’t in the birthing or surgery rooms, either. I’m headed to her office.”
While Charlene could have snuck out with one of her employees, his gut told him she was hiding somewhere in the building.
And I’m going to fucking find her.
He eased open the door to her office. A dark oak desk and leather executive chair filled one corner. A white sofa and glass coffee table occupied the other side of the room. Charlene’s floor-to-ceiling built-ins were packed with books, but it was the famous painting by Gustav Klimt that caught his eye. A young woman adorned in flowers held her young child against her bare chest while they slept.
A loving mother cradling her son. That’s irony.
He entered her walk-in closet filled with shoes, a few coats and a floor safe. He pushed against the back wall, but it didn’t budge. He didn’t find her hiding in her private bathroom, either.
Where the hell is she?
On his way out, he glanced at the bookcase. The bound books included the complete works of William Shakespeare, plus literary classics from Herman Melville, Daniel Defoe, and Louisa May Alcott. He ran his finger along the spines. Then, he eyed the shelf below it. More classics by Emily Bronte, Jane Austin, Mary Shelley, Bram Stoker, and Robert Louis Stevenson. Then, he eyed the shelves below that one. A row starting with Shakespeare. A row starting with Bronte. Alternating rows of identical books all the way down to the bottom shelf.
He tugged on a book, but they were just spines glued together and wedged inside the bookcase.
These are bogus. She’s behind this wall.
Adrenaline surged through him as he tried budging the structure. He ran his hands over the books and inside the shelves, looking for a button, lever, or knob, but he found nothing.
C’mon, it’s gotta be here.
He flipped on a light switch and harsh halogens brightened the room. Then, he looked behind the drapes and checked under the windowsill. Nothing there, either.
