Chapter 5 - Shattered Foundations
The words hung in the sterile air of the examination room like shattered glass. Call 911 now.
“What are you talking about?” I whispered, my chest heaving as I looked from Dr. Hayes down to Ivy, who was staring blankly at the ceiling tiles. “You think Ethan did this? To our daughter?”
“Look at the tox screen preliminary readout,” Dr. Hayes said, spinning her computer monitor toward me. The screen was filled with complex medical jargon, but one line item stood out in flashing red text: Scopolamine derivative / Unidentified neuro-paralytic agent. “These aren't just physical bruises, Mrs. Ellwood. Your daughter has been systematically sedated. The circular marks on her wrists and ankles match the circumference of medical-grade restraint bands—the kind used in controlled clinical environments to immobilize subjects without leaving trauma on bone, though soft tissue damage still occurs if the dosage fluctuates.”
My knees buckled, and I had to grab the edge of the metal table to keep from falling. Clinical environments? Restraints?
“Why?” I choked out, tears finally spilling over my lashes. “Why would he do that? He loves her—he's her father!”
“Is he?” Dr. Hayes asked softly, her eyes filled with sorrow. “Look at your phone, Mrs. Ellwood. While you were driving here, the police network flagged your husband's vehicle registration. His name isn't Ethan Rowe.”
The room seemed to spin on its axis. “What?”
“The police department received an urgent bulletin from a federal task force five minutes ago,” the doctor continued rapidly, pulling a printout from her printer. “Ethan Rowe is an alias. His real name is Dr. Julian Vance—not me, a different Vance—a former senior pharmacologist who was dishonorably discharged and fugitive-listed ten years ago after orchestrating illegal human trials on neurological suppressants in isolated rural areas. He didn't just take you on a camping trip to get away from the city, Mrs. Ellwood. He brought your daughter back to the exact perimeter where his former underground facility used to operate.”
Before I could process the avalanche of horror crushing down upon me, a loud, muffled crash echoed from the hallway outside, followed by shouts, the heavy thud of running boots, and the sharp crack of a security alarm.
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Dr. Hayes threw herself against the examination room door, holding the handle down as someone slammed against the outside with terrifying force.
“He broke away from security!” a guard's voice roared through the intercom speaker near the ceiling. “He's heading toward the exit! Code red!”
