Chapter 3 - The Diagnosis
The emergency bay at UPMC Children's Hospital burst into chaotic activity the moment the Maybach pulled up to the curb. Medical staff in blue scrubs rushed out with a pediatric gurney.
Dr. Sarah Vance—a brilliant, sharp-eyed chief of pediatric emergency medicine who also happened to be Daniel’s younger sister—led the team.
"Daniel! What do you have?" Sarah called out as Daniel stepped out of the car carrying Toby.
"Severe hypothermia, acute respiratory distress," Daniel said quickly, placing the boy onto the white sheet of the gurney. "He's four years old. His name is Toby."
Sarah immediately placed her stethoscope against the boy's tiny chest, her professional expression hardening in an instant. "Diminished breath sounds on the right side. High-grade fever, severe dehydration. Get him into Trauma Room 2! Start oxygen, high-flow, warmed IV fluids, and get a STAT chest X-ray!"
The medical team whisked the gurney through the automatic double doors, leaving Daniel standing in the hallway.
Lily screamed. "Toby! Don't take him! Don't take Toby!"
She tried to dash past the nurses, her small canvas shoes slipping on the polished linoleum floor, but Daniel caught her gently around the waist, lifting her into his arms.
"Shh, it's okay, Lily! It's okay," Daniel soothed, holding her close as she kicked and sobbed against his shoulder. "They're fixing him. Look at me, Lily. They're doctors. They are going to give him the pink medicine. I promise you, nobody is going to hurt him."
Lily buried her face into Daniel's neck, her small hands clutching the lapels of his suit jacket as violent, breathless sobs wracked her tiny frame. Daniel stood in the sterile white hallway, rocking the little girl back and forth, completely unbothered by the dirt and tears staining his pristine clothes.
An hour later, Sarah stepped out of Trauma Room 2, pulling down her surgical mask. She looked exhausted, her forehead creased with worry.
Daniel immediately walked over, still holding a fast-asleep Lily in his arms. The little girl had cried herself to exhaustion, her breath coming in soft, rhythmic hitches against Daniel's chest.
"How is he, Sarah?" Daniel asked softly.
Sarah gestured toward a private waiting area down the hall. Daniel followed her, settling onto a soft vinyl sofa while maintaining his grip on the sleeping girl.
"It's bad, Daniel," Sarah said, sitting across from him and taking a sip from a paper coffee cup. "He has severe double lobar pneumonia. His core body temperature was ninety-two degrees when you brought him in. Another hour in that laundry room, and his heart would have gone into fatal arrhythmia."
Daniel swallowed hard. "Will he make it?"
"We've got him on a ventilator, broad-spectrum IV antibiotics, and a warming blanket," Sarah replied, her eyes softening as she looked at her brother holding the dirty, ragged child. "He's strong, Daniel. He's fighting. But he's severely malnourished. He hasn't had real food in days."
Sarah leaned back, examining Daniel closely. "Where on earth did you find them?"
"The Hillcrest Motor Lodge site," Daniel said, staring at the floor. "The property Mercer Freight bought last month for the new logistics terminal. Vance was twenty minutes away from knocking the building down with heavy machinery."
Sarah gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "My God..."
"She said their mother went to get medicine three days ago and never came back," Daniel added, his jaw tightening. "Sarah, I need you to run a full toxicological and physical panel on Lily as well. Check her for injuries, malnutrition, anything."
"I'll have the pediatric nurses bring her to a private room right away," Sarah agreed, standing up. "Daniel... what about the mother? Have you called the police?"
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Daniel looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms, her tiny thumb tucked into her mouth, her eyebrows furrowed even in sleep as if she were guarding against a world that had offered her nothing but cold concrete and closed doors.
"I'm going to find out what happened to her myself," Daniel said, his voice laced with a cold, unyielding resolve. "Marcus is already working on it."
