Chapter 2 - The Emergency Move
Daniel didn't wait for Lucy's permission. He picked up the youngest boy, Toby, wrapping him in a dry blanket. Toby didn't even protest; he was too weak, his little head resting heavily against Daniel’s shoulder.
"Lucy, grab your mother's purse, any papers you have, and your clothes. Leo, help her. We have five minutes," Daniel commanded.
Ten minutes later, Daniel’s heavy-duty Ford F-250 pickup truck was idling in the snowy alley behind the duplex. He had carried the mother, whose name he discovered from her ID was Sarah Carter, down the back stairs. She was terrifyingly light, her body limp in his arms. He laid her gently across the spacious back seat of the crew cab, covering her with his own heavy canvas work jacket.
The three children huddled in the front bench seat next to Daniel, the grocery bags wedged between their feet.
Instead of driving to the county hospital, where the state social services kept a permanent desk in the emergency room, Daniel made a phone call.
"Marcus," Daniel said into his Bluetooth earpiece as he navigated the slick Chicago streets. "I need a favor. No questions asked. I’m coming to the clinic."
"Daniel, I’m in the middle of rounds," a voice replied. "What's going on?"
"It’s Richard's family, Marcus. Or someone who looks exactly like them. I have a woman dying of pneumonia in my back seat and three starving kids. I need a private room and a quiet admission."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Dr. Marcus Vance had been Daniel’s close friend since their days in the military. He ran a community health clinic on the West Side that catered to underserved families, often operating on a sliding scale or entirely pro bono.
"Bring them to the ambulance bay," Marcus said. "I’ll clear the back room."
When they arrived, Marcus and a trusted nurse were already waiting with a gurney. Within minutes, Sarah Carter was hooked up to an IV drip, receiving high-dose antibiotics and oxygen. The three children were sitting in an adjacent staff breakroom, eating the rotisserie chicken and bread Daniel had bought, their hunger so intense they ate in absolute silence.
Marcus stepped out of the treatment room, pulling off his latex gloves. He looked at Daniel, his expression a mix of awe and deep concern.
"Her lung sounds are terrible, Daniel. It’s advanced bacterial pneumonia, compounded by severe malnutrition and physical exhaustion. Another twelve hours in that freezing apartment and her heart would have given out."
"Will she make it?" Daniel asked, leaning against the sterile wall.
"Yes. She’s strong, and the antibiotics are already working. But Daniel… who is she? You mentioned Richard."
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Daniel rubbed his face, feeling the rough stubble of his beard. Richard Mercer had been Daniel's older brother. He had died twelve years ago in a tragic construction accident—or so the official police report had claimed. But Daniel had always suspected there was more to the story. Richard had been a brilliant surveyor who had stumbled onto a major land-fraud scheme involving some of the city's most powerful developers.
"Her ID says Sarah Carter," Daniel said quietly. "But look at the girl, Marcus. Look at Lucy. She has Richard’s eyes. Exactly. And the mother’s maiden name on the old social security card I found in her purse… it’s Sarah Mercer."
