Agent Vance walked over to where I was holding the boys.

“We have a team at the main hospital,” she said, her voice softer now.

“But the records for your mother’s transfer are encrypted. We need the decryption key from his personal office.”

“That will take hours,” I said, standing up and holding my sons’ hands tightly.

“She doesn’t have hours. Her heart is too weak for the withdrawal.”

My phone, still lying in the wet grass, began to vibrate again.

The screen lit up, reflecting off a puddle of fuel-scented water.

I reached down and picked it up, wiping the wet screen with my sleeve.

It was another message from the unknown number.

This time, there was no photo.

It was an audio file, only five seconds long.

I pressed play, holding the phone between Lucas and me.

Through the static and the sound of a rushing wind, a familiar voice spoke.

It was a man’s voice, low and breathless.

“Emily, they didn’t take her to another facility,” the voice said.

“She is still in the building. Under the old boiler room.”