Chapter 2 - The Fire on the Tenth Floor
Down on the third floor, Grace Morales was clutching her paper discharge folder so tightly her knuckles were white.
The clinical examination had taken thirty-five minutes instead of twenty. The doctor had asked endless questions about her fatigue, her blood pressure, and her family history, barely listening when Grace repeatedly explained that her main concern was getting back out to her children in the waiting room.
When she finally stepped out into the bright lobby of the community clinic, the two chairs where Owen and Lily were supposed to be sitting were empty.
"Owen?" Grace called out, her voice rising in immediate panic. "Lily?"
A plastic water bottle sat on the floor near the leg of the chair, unopened. Lily’s bright red backpack was gone.
Grace’s heart slammed against her ribs like a trapped bird. "Excuse me!" she shouted at the receptionist behind the glass desk. "Where are my children? The two little kids who were sitting right here!"
The receptionist looked up casually from her computer screen. "Ma'am, children wander off to the vending machines all the time. Check the cafeteria down the hall."
"They don't wander!" Grace yelled, her voice breaking with raw, maternal fury. "My son would never leave those chairs unless something happened!"
She didn't wait for a response. Grace ran down the main corridor, her worn leather boots squeaking against the polished floor. She checked the vending nook, the public restrooms, and the children's play corner. Nothing.
Then she saw the heavy grey service door at the end of the east hall. It was fitted with an automatic magnetic lock, but a yellow cleaning bucket was wedged into the frame, keeping it open two inches.
Grace rushed to the door, pulled it open, and stepped into the service elevator alcove.
Standing near the wall was an elderly janitor in dark blue overalls, holding a dust mop.
"Did you see two kids?" Grace gasped, clutching her chest, struggling to catch her breath. "A boy in a green jacket and a little girl in a pink coat with yellow socks?"
The janitor paused, looking at her with gentle, tired eyes. "The little girl who was humming?"
"Yes! Where did they go?!"
The janitor pointed up at the brass indicator light above the executive express elevator. The light was glowing fixedly at the number 10.
"The elevator went up to the private suites," the janitor said quietly. "The little girl told her brother she heard a trapped heart calling from the top floor."
Grace went completely cold. The blood drained from her face so fast the world tilted around her.
Tenth floor. Executive suite. Calloway Biomedical.
"No," Grace whispered, her knees shaking violently. "No, no, no..."
She smashed her fist against the elevator call button, but the screen flashed red: RESTRICTED ACCESS. KEYCARD REQUIRED.
Without hesitating another second, Grace turned toward the heavy steel fire stairs door. She pushed through it and began to run up the concrete staircase, taking two stairs at a time, her shallow breaths echoing wildly against the cold cinderblock walls.
Ten floors.
Her lungs burned. Her legs felt like lead. The dizziness that had brought her to the hospital in the first place threatened to pull her into blackness with every landing she crossed. But the image of Owen and Lily alone surrounded by the Calloway family kept her feet moving.
Four years, she thought through the roaring pain in her ears. I kept them safe from him for four years. I hid in the dark. I washed clothes. I sewed coats. I begged for medicine.
She reached the tenth-floor landing, threw her entire weight against the heavy push-bar, and burst into the carpeted silence of the executive wing.
The hallway was filled with tension.
Two uniformed guards were standing outside Suite 1004. Inside the open doorway, Grace heard her son’s voice—defiant, fierce, and loud.
"Don't touch my sister!" Owen was screaming. "Let go of her arm!"
"Where did your mother get this handkerchief?!" Malcolm’s voice boomed from inside, cold as iron. "Answer me, you little brat!"
Grace didn't think. She didn't pause. She charged into the room like a localized hurricane.
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY CHILDREN!" Grace shrieked.
She shoved past the surprised security guard at the door, grabbed the heavy glass water pitcher from the side credenza, and slammed it down onto the marble table with a deafening CRASH!
Glass shattered in every direction. Water splashed across Malcolm’s tailored charcoal trousers.
In the center of the room, Malcolm flinched back, startled by the sudden violence. Victoria let out a high-pitched scream, shielding her face.
Grace swept both Owen and Lily behind her skirts, pulling them into her arms, her whole body shaking with terrifying maternal adrenaline.
"Mommy!" Lily cried, burying her face into Grace’s coat.
"I've got you," Grace gasped, her grey eyes flashing with wild, deadly anger as she glared at Malcolm Calloway. "I've got you, baby."
Malcolm wiped a splash of water from his lapel, his face twisting into a hideous, dark snarl. But as he stepped forward to confront the intruder, his eyes landed fully on Grace’s face.
The anger on Malcolm’s face instantly vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating horror.
"You," Malcolm whispered, his jaw tightening until his cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut glass. "Grace Morales."
May you like
Victoria Sloan stepped forward, frowning as she looked between Malcolm and the disheveled woman standing before them in a worn winter coat. "Malcolm? Who is this woman?"
"She is nobody," Malcolm said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, deadly whisper as he signaled the security guards to close the door behind her. "She is a trespasser who is about to be arrested."
