Chapter 2 - SARAH’S HOUSE
Deputy Mara Quinn reached my home with the ambulance.
She arrived in an SUV behind it, snow packed halfway up the wheel wells.
Paramedics took over.
Good.
Being a surgeon does not make me a pediatric emergency team.
Lily’s core temperature was dangerously low.
Both infants were hypothermic.
The quieter twin had bradycardia.
They needed hospital care.
Now.
One paramedic asked:
“Relationship?”
I stared at him.
“The girl is my niece.”
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
He looked confused.
“I mean—yes. I’m sure now.”
The twins were loaded first.
Lily second.
I followed to the ambulance.
Her eyes opened.
“Mommy.”
“We’re finding her.”
She tried to lift one hand.
“Paper.”
“What paper?”
“Coat.”
The paramedic looked at me.
Lily’s soaked coat had been removed.
Rosa held it in a clear bag.
I took it.
One inner seam had been stitched by hand.
Badly.
Recent.
I could feel something inside.
“Police need to see this.”
Mara Quinn stepped closer.
She was mid-forties, compact, snow gathering on the shoulders of her uniform.
“What do you have?”
I showed her the seam.
“Lily says there’s paper.”
“Don’t open it yet.”
Fair.
Evidence.
God, I hated that word attached to a child’s coat.
Mara asked Lily:
“Can you tell me where you came from?”
Lily murmured:
“Blue house.”
“Do you know a road?”
“Pine.”
“Pine what?”
“Old Pine.”
Mara looked at another deputy.
“Old Pine Service Road.”
I knew it.
A maintenance road ran along the eastern side of Cascade Ridge, below my property.
Cabins.
Caretaker houses.
Vacant summer rentals.
Maybe two miles by road.
Less through the trees.
“How did she walk from there?”
Mara did not answer.
She radioed.
Possible injured adult.
Domestic disturbance.
Children fled residence.
Suspect Marcus Kane.
The name hit like a physical blow.
“You know him?” she asked.
“My sister’s husband.”
“Address?”
“I haven’t known where they lived for seven years.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Start talking.”
There was no time for pride.
I told her enough.
Sarah Carter.
My half-sister.
Estranged.
Marcus’s criminal history from before marriage.
Debt.
Assault charge reduced years earlier.
Restraining order from an ex-girlfriend.
I had discovered those records.
That was why Sarah and I fought.
I told her Marcus was dangerous.
She told me I was controlling.
I told her to choose.
She chose him.
Or I thought she did.
Mara listened without judging me.
Then:
“You have a photograph of Sarah?”
“Yes.”
I pulled an old one from my phone.
I never deleted them.
Sarah at twenty-seven on a dock.
Laughing.
Green eyes.
Mara sent it to units.
The ambulance left.
I wanted to follow.
Mara stopped me.
“You can meet them at the hospital.”
“My sister—”
“We’re searching the residence.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“I’m a physician.”
“You’re a relative and possible witness.”
“I can help.”
“You can complicate a scene.”
I hated her immediately.
That was probably why she was right.
At 9:17 p.m., officers reached the blue rental on Old Pine Service Road.
At 9:21, Mara’s radio crackled.
Female located.
Alive.
I closed my eyes.
Alive.
Then:
Severe head injury. Hypothermic environment. Significant blood loss. Suspect absent.
Sarah.
Alive.
They found her on the kitchen floor.
One broken bottle.
Blood.
Back door open.
Twins’ crib empty.
Vehicle missing.
Marcus gone.
At 9:32, Mara received another update.
Sarah regained partial consciousness before transport.
She said two words.
“My children?”
Mara looked at me.
May you like
I answered though Sarah could not hear.
“They made it.”
