Chapter 310
They reached the private hospital in ten minutes. Cailin didn’t wait for him to park. She jumped out and ran into the lobby, ignoring the receptionist and heading straight for the elevators.
Fourth floor. Pediatric ICU.
She burst through the double doors. “Elia!”
Cailin ran to Room 402 and threw the door open.
The bed was empty. The sheets were stripped. The monitors were dark. The little stuffed rabbit Elia slept with was gone.
“No,” Cailin whispered. “No, no, no.”
She spun around. A nurse was walking by with a chart. Cailin grabbed her by the scrubs.
“Where is she? Where is my daughter?”
The nurse looked terrified. “Mrs. Holloway? You… you aren’t supposed to be here.”
“Where is she?!”
“Mr. Holloway’s private medical team came,” the nurse stammered. “About an hour ago. They had the transfer papers signed by the board. They took her.”
“Took her where?”
“They didn’t say. The lead physician just said she would be safer at home.”
Cailin let go of the nurse. Her vision tunneled. Rage — cold and sharp — flooded her. As she stumbled back, her eyes caught a mobile supply cart left in the hallway. On the top tray, gleaming under the fluorescent lights, was a sterile pack containing a single-use scalpel. Without thinking, she palmed it, the crinkle of the foil a venomous promise, and shoved it deep into her cargo pants pocket.
She slid down the wall until she hit the floor.
He knew. He knew Cailin would run. He had let her escape — because he knew she would come straight here. And he knew that as long as he had Elia, Cailin was on a leash.
Kegan ran up to her. “Cailin? Is she here?”
Cailin shook her head. She couldn’t speak.
Kegan looked at the empty room and cursed. He pulled out his tablet. “I’m tracking the ambulance. Hilliard’s private fleet.”
He tapped the screen. “Got it. They’re heading north. Toward the coast.”
“The Cliffside Villa,” Cailin whispered.
It was Hilliard’s fortress — a glass and concrete box perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Atlantic. One way in, one way out.
“Take me there,” Cailin said, standing.
“Cailin, that place is a bunker,” Kegan said. “We can’t just knock on the door.”
“I’m not knocking,” Cailin said. “I’ll burn it down if I have to.”
The wind whipped Cailin’s hair across her face as she stood before the massive steel gates of the Villa. The ocean crashed against the rocks hundreds of feet below, the sound deafening.
“I’m going in with you,” Kegan said, checking the clip of his handgun.
“No,” Cailin said. “If he sees a gun, he’ll lock the place down. I won’t be able to get to Elia.”
“He’s dangerous, Cailin.”
“So am I.”
Cailin pressed the intercom button. “Let me in, Hilliard.”
A pause. Then the heavy gates groaned and began to slide open.
She walked up the long driveway. The house loomed ahead, dark and jagged against the night sky. The front door was open.
Hilliard was waiting in the living room, a glass of whiskey in hand. A fire crackled in the fireplace.
.
.
.