Chapter 6 - The Interrogation
By late evening, the hospital had been completely cordoned off by federal authorities. The state police, tactical units, and additional FBI teams had turned the administrative wing into a temporary command post. The three intruders had been taken into custody; two were in the prison ward receiving treatment for their gunshot wounds, and the third was being aggressively questioned in the basement holding cells.
I sat in my office, staring at a lukewarm cup of coffee that had been sitting on my desk for hours. The door opened, and Agent Miller walked in. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened and his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.
"We processed the ledger and the flash drives," Miller said, dropping into the chair opposite me. "It's bigger than we thought. It’s not just a regional operation. The data contains the complete routing numbers, shell corporation names, and offshore bank accounts for a syndicate that spans three continents. It also includes a list of compromised public officials who were on their payroll."
"And Martha? Or whatever her real name is?" I asked.
"Elena Vanceva is singing like a bird," Miller said with a grim smile. "Once she realized her people tried to breach the hospital and would likely eliminate her to keep her quiet, she turned state's evidence. She’s giving up every name, every location, and every drop point in exchange for a reduced sentence in a federal women's facility."
"What about Noah?" The only thing I cared about was the boy. "She can't ever be allowed near him again."
"She won't be," Miller assured me. "The Department of Child Services has already taken emergency custody. Given the severity of the abuse and the federal implications, her parental rights will be terminated by the end of the week. But there’s a problem, Sarah."
I looked up, my defensive instincts immediately kicking in. "What problem?"
"Noah has no other living relatives," Miller sighed. "His father is presumed dead, his mother is going to federal prison for a very long time, and the rest of his extended family is overseas and deeply tied to the organization. Once he’s medically cleared, he’s going into the state foster system. And given his trauma, his medical needs, and the high-profile nature of this case, finding a safe, stable placement for him is going to be incredibly difficult."
My mind flashed back to three years ago—to the little girl named Lily who had come into my ER with injuries that didn't match her parents' story. I had let her go home because the paperwork looked correct and the father was a prominent member of the community. Two weeks later, her name appeared in the obituaries.
I had promised myself that if the universe ever gave me a second chance to save a child from the darkness, I wouldn't let the paperwork stand in my way.
"He's not going into a random foster home," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument.
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Miller raised an eyebrow. "Dr. Jenkins, you're his treating physician. You can't just—"
"I'm a licensed foster parent, Agent Miller," I interrupted, pulling open my desk drawer and retrieving a laminated card issued by the State of Illinois two years ago. I had taken the classes, passed the background checks, and prepared my home, but I had never taken a placement because the hours in the ER were too demanding. "I have a house with a fenced yard, a clean record, and I can provide the continuous medical care his arm requires over the next six months. Tell DCS they have an immediate placement ready."
