Chapter 4

Whitney came out of the hospital room. She stood holding on to the doorframe, her face as pale as paper and her eyes swollen from crying. "Theodore."

I turned toward her. She slowly walked over, swaying with every step. "Don't do this."

"Whitney..."

"Theodore, you need to calm down."

Behind the nurses' station, Sienna clutched her chest as tears rolled down her face.

"Mr. Collins, I know you're worried, but you can't treat me like this… I've only been working at this hospital for six months. I'm just an employee. How could I possibly dare to steal a baby?"

Her shoulders shook as she cried.

The hallway fell silent for a few seconds. Then, someone began recording on their phone.

"A rich man is bullying a young nurse in public."

"He lost his baby and started cursing at innocent people."

"It's disgusting."

Whitney suddenly tightened her grip on my arm. Her whole body swayed, and her knees began to buckle.

I reached out and caught her. She collapsed against my chest, burying her face in it.

"Theodore… Let's go back to the room."

I carried her back inside, but the voices behind us continued.

"What kind of person does that?"

"He can't even keep track of his own kid, yet he blames the nurse."

"If I were his wife, I'd not be able to stand it either."

Whitney shuddered in my arms. I held her tighter, feeling her shoulders tremble. She made no sound.

Even with the door between us, the voices from the hallway kept seeping into the room.

I held her hand, but she did not squeeze mine back.

"Whitney."

She did not answer.

"Trust me."

Her shoulders trembled.

"I will find him. I promise."

The police searched three entire floors without finding a single trace of our son. The technical team was working on the security footage, saying they needed to recover the data from the hard drive.

Whitney had been given a sedative and was barely asleep, tears still clinging to the corners of her eyes.

I crouched alone in the hallway, smoking a cigarette.

The third, fourth, and fifth floors had all been searched, and every place where someone could have hidden a baby had been checked, from the storage rooms and staff lounges to the operating rooms. They had even opened the toilet tanks, but they found nothing.

A three-day-old baby had simply vanished into thin air.

I stared blankly at the cigarette butt on the floor. It was not until sweat ran down my forehead and blurred my vision that I noticed something.

It was hot.

The fifth floor was especially hot.

The VIP patient floor was kept at 72 degrees Fahrenheit by the central air-conditioning system year-round. Today, however, it felt like at least 80 degrees. The air was stuffy enough to make it hard to breathe.

I stood up and walked around the hallway.

Air was coming out of every vent, but the airflow was weak. I could barely feel any cool air.

Last night had not been like this.

When I changed my son's diaper last night, I had actually felt cold enough to pull an extra blanket over Whitney.

Something was wrong.

I hurried to the stairwell and went down to the third floor. The moment I pushed open the door, a blast of cold air hit my face.

The central air-conditioning on the third floor was working normally. The temperature was several degrees lower.

The fourth floor was the same, cool and comfortable.

Only the fifth floor was hot enough to feel like a sauna. I called the engineering department.

"Who's responsible for the air-conditioning on the fifth floor?"

The person on the other end hesitated. "Mr. Collins, that floor is not under our department. The VIP area has a separate system. The equipment department has the key, and Adrian is the one who keeps it."

"Give me Adrian's number."

I called him three times, but he did not answer. The uneasiness in my chest grew heavier with each unanswered call.

I found the equipment department's mechanical room, but the door was locked. I kicked it once, but it did not budge.

I turned to a cleaning lady passing by. "Have you seen Adrian? Is he here today?"

She thought for a moment. "I think he came in early this morning. He was pushing a tool cart toward the east side. I haven't seen him since."

The east side.

The eastern end of the fifth floor had a row of abandoned storage rooms. I had looked over the floor plans when I rented the entire floor. The room at the very end had been shut down long ago because it was too close to the air-conditioning machinery and the noise was unbearable.

It was not assigned to any department, and the hallway cameras could not capture that corner.

That turn was the only blind spot on the entire floor.

I rushed to the storage room door. The padlock was new, a shiny brass lock that looked completely out of place compared with the old ones on the other storage rooms.

I struck it three times, but it did not break. I pulled a fire extinguisher from the fire cabinet and swung it with all my strength. The lock finally flew off, and the door sprang open.

The room was empty. A few boxes of expired gauze sat in the corner, and the dust made me cough. There was nothing else inside.

I stood in the middle of the room, grinding my back teeth together.

Something was wrong.

If there was nothing inside, why had someone replaced the lock? Why hide this room in a corner the cameras could not reach?

I looked up at the ceiling.

The screws on the ventilation grille had fresh marks, as if someone had recently removed and tightened them.

I dragged an old table beneath it and climbed on top. After unscrewing the grille, I pulled it loose. The inside was pitch-black. Air rushed through the duct, carrying the stale, dusty smell of heat.

I pulled out my phone, switched on the flashlight, and stuck my head inside. The duct stretched inward, then turned a few yards ahead.

I thought I heard something, a faint sound almost like a cat meowing, or the weak whimper of a baby who had cried until his voice was nearly gone.

My scalp prickled.

"Son!"

The sound inside the duct stopped for half a second before rising sharply again. Then a heart-wrenching cry tore through the darkness.