Chapter 5 - The War for Blood and Soul
The realization hung in the quiet chapel like a physical weight.
The name "Baby Girl Sterling" wasn't just a random administrative coincidence. Chloe Vance, fleeing from her own ruined life and living on the streets, had given birth in the Sterling Street transit shelter. In her fog of pain and fear, she had used the only name she remembered from the few old letters her mother had kept—the name of the street, or perhaps the name of the daughter her father had lost.
And the hospital had unknowingly labeled Arthur’s granddaughter with the name that had haunted his soul for fifteen years.
"Arthur..." I gasped, my hands covering my mouth. "Does Chloe know you're here? Does she know about the baby?"
"She's in the Douglas County Correctional Facility," Arthur said, wiping his face with the back of his rough hand. "Marcus is down at the jail right now with a court order for a expedited DNA swab. We need ninety-nine point nine percent biological confirmation to block Brenda Vance-Hayes’s transfer order tomorrow morning."
"Will Chloe consent to the swab?" I asked anxiously.
Arthur looked down at his trembling hands. "Chloe is sick, Ellen. She’s been addicted to fentanyl for three years. When Marcus spoke to her through the glass an hour ago, she didn't even recognize my name at first. She thought he was a police detective trying to pin another theft charge on her."
He stood up from the pew, his massive six-foot-four frame looming large against the stained-glass windows.
"She told Marcus she didn't care what happened to the baby," Arthur said, his voice flat with devastating pain. "She said she was better off dead, and the baby was better off without her."
"Oh, God..." I breathed.
"I'm going down to that jail myself," Arthur said, taking his leather jacket from the pew. "I'm going to look my daughter in the eye for the first time in twenty years. And I'm going to tell her that her father is still alive, and that her daughter is not going to be abandoned the way she was."
"Arthur, wait," I said, rising quickly from my seat. "The state court opens at eight o'clock tomorrow. Brenda Vance-Hayes will be at our NICU doors at exactly twelve noon with a sheriff's deputy. If that DNA test isn't processed and certified by a state lab before the judge signs the final wardship order, Brenda can take the baby out of state to a specialized facility, and it could take months of legal appeals to get her back."
"Then we have fifteen hours," Arthur said, snapping his briefcase shut. "Fifteen hours to save two lives."
He turned and walked briskly out of the chapel, his heavy boots echoing down the quiet hospital corridor.
I stood alone in the chapel for a moment, my heart pounding against my ribs. I knew what I had to do.
I took the elevator back up to the fourth floor, walked straight into Pod B, and approached bed seven.
The baby was awake again. She wasn't crying, but her tiny limbs were twitching rhythmically, her face contorted in the quiet, silent agony of chemical withdrawal. She was searching for the warmth, the heavy vibration, and the steady heartbeat that had held her safe four hours ago.
I pulled off my watch, washed my hands thoroughly at the sink, and reached into the incubator.
I didn't just touch her with my fingertips. I cupped her back the way Arthur had done, bringing my face close to the plastic portal.
"Hang on, little one," I whispered to her, watching her tiny chest heave against the monitoring leads. "Your grandfather is fighting for you. Don't you give up now."
At 2:00 a.m., the NICU entry phone rang.
I picked it up at the central desk. "NICU, Charge Nurse Ellen."
"Ellen, it's Dr. Thorne," his voice came through the receiver, sounding crisp and urgent. "I just got off the phone with the Chief of Medical Staff. We just received an emergency mandate from the Douglas County Crime Lab. They've prioritized a priority-one DNA paternity panel requested by Federal District Judge Thomas Sterling."
I paused. "Judge Sterling?"
"Yes," Dr. Thorne replied, a rare, genuine smile evident in his tone. "It turns out Arthur Vance’s attorney didn't just file a standard motion. He woke up a federal judge who served with Arthur in the Marine Corps back in 2003. The judge signed an emergency federal writ forcing the state lab to process the swab in six hours."
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"Where is Arthur now?" I asked, my voice trembling with excitement.
"He’s at the county jail with his daughter," Dr. Thorne said. "And Ellen... you need to prepare bed seven. We might be having an unexpected visitor in the morning."
