Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN IN BLUE SCRUBSBy the time we reached Mercy General, Wyatt’s floor had been locked down.
Uniformed police stood at both elevator exits.
Every nurse, orderly, physician, technician, visitor, and vendor was being checked.
Wyatt’s room had two officers outside.
When I entered, he was sitting upright, pale but awake, his right leg immobilized from hip to ankle.
He looked irritated.
That was a good sign.
“You look terrible,” he said.
“So do you.”
“I have an excuse.”
I pulled a chair beside him.
“What happened?”
He glanced toward Marcus.
“I already told them.”
“Tell me.”
He exhaled.
“About twenty minutes after I woke up, a nurse came in.”
“You recognize her?”
“No.”
“What did she look like?”
“Maybe thirty. Brown hair. Mask. Blue scrubs.”
“Did she say anything?”
“She asked whether I was still in pain.”
“That’s normal.”
“Then she called me Mr. White.”
I frowned.
“My chart is under a security alias.”
“What alias?”
“Mr. Green.”
My skin prickled.
“She didn’t belong here.”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“She walked to the IV.”
“And?”
“I asked what she was giving me.”
“She said pain medication.”
“So you stopped her.”
Wyatt smiled faintly.
“Mom used to make me memorize my medications.”
My throat tightened.
Evelyn had been meticulous.
Especially around doctors.
Maybe now I understood why.
“I told her the anesthesiologist had already said no more narcotics for two hours.”
“What did she do?”
“Kept reaching for the line.”
“So I grabbed her wrist.”
“With your condition?”
“I still have one good leg.”
Marcus muttered, “And terrible judgment.”
Wyatt ignored him.
“She panicked. Dropped the syringe. Hit the call button accidentally while trying to pull away.”
“Then she ran.”
“Yeah.”
“Security cameras?”
Marcus stepped forward.
“We have footage.”
He opened a tablet.
The video showed the woman entering the service elevator wearing blue scrubs.
Mask.
Cap.
Gloves.
No visible ID.
She moved confidently.
Too confidently for someone unfamiliar with hospitals.
The camera caught her exiting through a loading entrance fourteen minutes later.
A black SUV waited outside.
The license plate had been stolen from a vehicle in Kansas City.
“Professional,” I said.
Marcus nodded.
“Or prepared.”
Agent Chen entered.
“We have a possible identification.”
She displayed a photograph.
The woman had red hair in the photo, not brown.
Thirty-two.
Name: Alicia Grant.
Licensed practical nurse.
Formerly employed by—
St. Andrew’s Private Medical Center.
Wyatt went still.
I stared at the screen.
“Dr. Nolan.”
“She worked under him for four years.”
“Where is she now?”
“We’re looking.”
Agent Chen looked at Wyatt.
“Mr. Yates, did you ever see her at your house?”
“No.”
“Any private clinics?”
“No.”
“Anywhere connected to Sabrina?”
He stared at the photograph.
Then his expression changed.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Her eyes.”
Agent Chen leaned closer.
“I saw her once.”
“When?”
“At Sabrina’s father’s Christmas party.”
My pulse jumped.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“Why was she there?”
“I don’t know. Sabrina said she worked with one of Irving’s charities.”
Agent Chen typed a note.
The door opened.
A police officer entered holding an evidence bag.
“We found this in a trash container near the loading dock.”
Inside was a small black earpiece.
Marcus examined it.
“Bluetooth.”
“We’re pulling connection logs.”
Then Wyatt looked toward me.
“Dad.”
Something in his voice made me pause.
“What?”
“Why did you go to the old shop?”
I had not told him.
“Marcus.”
Marcus raised both hands.
“He asked where you were.”
I looked at Wyatt.
“We found something from Mom.”
His face changed immediately.
“What?”
I hesitated.
He knew me too well.
“Dad.”
“A letter.”
His eyes filled.
“What did it say?”
I sat closer.
“She was investigating Thomas before she died.”
He stared.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“She never told me.”
“She was protecting you.”
His jaw tightened.
“And you?”
“She didn’t tell me either.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought I trusted Thomas too much.”
Wyatt looked away.
He understood that betrayal as well as anyone now.
“There’s more,” I said.
I told him about the symptoms.
The appointments with Nolan.
The independent medical visit she never lived long enough to attend.
Wyatt’s face slowly drained of color.
“You think Mom was murdered.”
“I don’t know.”
“That means yes.”
“It means I need evidence.”
He stared out the window.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then he whispered, “Sabrina knew how Mom died.”
“What?”
“She asked me about it before our wedding.”
“That’s not unusual.”
“No. But she asked about the hospital.”
My entire body tightened.
“What exactly did she ask?”
“Whether Mom had an autopsy.”
I looked at Agent Chen.
She was already writing.
“What did you tell her?”
“That Dad didn’t request one because there was no reason.”
“Did she ask anything else?”
“Whether Mom kept medical records.”
I stood.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I thought my fiancée was trying to understand my family.”
Of course he did.
When you love someone, questions look like care.
Only later do you recognize surveillance.
Agent Chen stepped into the hallway to make a call.
Wyatt said quietly, “Dad, I signed something.”
My attention snapped back.
“When?”
“The first night they held me.”
“What?”
“They drugged me. Sabrina put a document in front of me.”
“What document?”
“I don’t know.”
My chest tightened.
“You said you refused.”
“I refused the power of attorney. This was earlier.”
“Do you remember anything?”
“A cover sheet.”
“Words?”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Transfer… beneficial interest… something.”
Marcus and I looked at each other.
“Heartland shares,” he said.
“No,” I answered.
“Wyatt doesn’t own controlling shares.”
“But he owns something?”
“Yes.”
I had given Wyatt twelve percent through a trust when he turned thirty.
Enough to make him wealthy.
Not enough to control Heartland.
Unless combined with other stolen voting rights.
Agent Chen returned.
“We need to know exactly what Wyatt signed.”
“I’ll have legal pull every recent filing.”
She nodded.
“My office is also sending agents to St. Andrew’s.”
Her phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Then looked directly at me.
“What?”
She ended the call.
“Dr. Nolan is missing.”
“When?”
“His attorney says he left the police interview last night after he was told he wasn’t formally detained yet.”
“Where did he go?”
“Unknown.”
My phone buzzed.
A text message from a number I did not recognize.
One photograph.
My stomach dropped.
It showed Daniel sitting in a chair.
Hands bound.
Blood at the corner of his mouth.
Behind him was a concrete wall.
Below the image, one sentence.
BRING EVELYN’S LEDGER TO THE OLD RIVER TERMINAL AT 9 PM OR YOUR BROTHER DIES. NO POLICE.
Wyatt saw my face.
“What happened?”
I showed him.
He swore.
Marcus took the phone.
“This could be a trap.”
“It is a trap.”
“So you’re not going.”
I looked at the picture again.
Daniel had betrayed me.
Helped create a fraudulent company.
Helped Thomas steal.
Lied for years.
But he was still my brother.
And whatever he had done, someone was now willing to kill him to recover Evelyn’s evidence.
Wyatt knew what I was thinking.
“Dad.”
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“I’m going.”
“You almost lost me last night.”
“And I’m not losing Daniel tonight.”
“He helped them!”
“Yes.”
“And now he’s the only one still alive who may know what happened to your mother.”
That silenced him.
Marcus folded his arms.
“If you go, we control the situation.”
“The message says no police.”
Marcus smiled.
“They always do.”
I looked at him.
“What’s the old river terminal?”
He pulled up a map.
Heartland River Distribution Number Three.
Abandoned nine years earlier after a flood.
Owned through one of our subsidiaries.
Remote.
Dark.
Miles from the nearest occupied building.
Perfect place for a murder.
Then Marcus zoomed in.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He rotated the screen.
“There’s an underground fuel access tunnel.”
“So?”
“So Thomas authorized repairs there three months ago.”
My pulse slowed.
“Repairs to an abandoned terminal?”
Marcus nodded.
“Exactly.”
The kidnapping was not improvised.
Someone had prepared that location before New Year’s Eve.
Maybe before Wyatt was taken.
May you like
And if they had prepared a place to hold Daniel—
I wondered how many other secrets were buried under that terminal.
