Chapter 3 - Footsteps in the Dark
My mind spun like a wheel spinning on ice as the ticking clock mocked my helplessness.
I had thirty minutes to make a choice that would define the rest of my life.
If I ran away with Theodore right now, Christopher would simply allow the corrupt doctor to finish the murder.
Raymond Winslow would die alone, buried beneath millions of dollars in stolen assets, and my conscience would burn forever.
If I stayed and got caught interfering, Christopher had enough wealth and influence to make a penniless runaway mother vanish without a trace.
I looked down at Theodore, who had curled his small fingers around Raymond's thumb.
Raymond's thumb tightened ever so slightly around the baby's palm, an unspoken pact between two innocent souls.
"I will not let them kill you," I vowed, my voice dropping to a fierce, steady pitch.
Raymond closed his eye in a prolonged, grateful blink.
"How do we stop the injection?" I whispered hurriedly.
"The saline drip," Raymond whispered back, his breath faint.
"The port on the IV line... needs to be compromised."
"If the needle doesn't hit the main line... the drug won't reach the vein directly."
I dashed into the en-suite medical bathroom where extra medical supplies were stored in sterile plastic bins.
I found an extra saline flush syringe and a small clamp used for catheter maintenance.
My hands shook violently as I manipulated the IV junction tucked behind Raymond’s pillow.
I created a minute diversion valve using the plastic clamp, bending the inner tube so the fluid would leak into the thick cotton lining of the mattress instead of his bloodstream.
It was a crude, terrifying gamble, but it was all we had.
At precisely four o'clock, the door clicked open.
Dr. Samuel Wallace entered with his heavy black medical bag.
He was a tall, stooped man in his late fifties with sunken eyes and nicotine-stained fingers.
He gave me a dismissive, hostile glare as he unzipped the bag.
"Step back into the corner, young lady," Dr. Wallace ordered smoothly.
He extracted a plain white cardboard box containing three unlabeled glass ampoules filled with clear liquid.
He snapped the neck of the first ampoule with practiced efficiency.
He drew the fluid into a large glass syringe, tapping the barrel to clear the air bubbles.
I clutched Theodore so hard to my chest that the baby stirred, letting out a tiny whimper.
Dr. Wallace walked over to the bed, completely indifferent to Raymond’s exposed vulnerability.
"Time for your comfort dose, Raymond," the doctor muttered under his breath with chilling malice.
"Soon, the pain of this company will no longer be your burden."
He inserted the needle directly into the secondary port of the IV line.
My heart slammed against my ribs as Wallace pressed the plunger down slowly.
Behind the pillow, beneath the heavy sheets, I could feel the faint wet warmth spreading through the mattress cotton.
The diversion had worked; only a minuscule fraction of the poison was entering Raymond's vein.
Dr. Wallace pulled the needle out, discarded the empty ampoule into his pocket, and checked Raymond’s pupillary reflex.
"Bilateral sluggishness confirmed," Wallace whispered to himself, checking his clipboard with cold satisfaction.
May you like
"Seventy-two hours remaining at most."
He packed his bag, gave me a menacing look that warned against curiosity, and walked out to collect his bloody check.
