The drive to Carter Medical was a blur of flashing blue lights and screeching tires.

The hospital loomed over the city skyline like a giant, concrete monolith.

The red neon sign of the emergency entrance reflected in the puddles on the street.

Vance parked the SUV directly in front of the main doors.

Three other police cruisers pulled up behind us, their sirens dying down to a low whine.

We entered the lobby, our wet shoes squeaking on the polished linoleum.

The air smelled of antiseptic and ozone.

A group of hospital administrators stood near the reception desk, whispering in hushed tones.

At the center of the lobby stood Daniel.

He was wearing his charcoal gray suit, his hair perfectly combed, his hands resting in his pockets.

Two lawyers in dark suits stood on either side of him.

When Daniel saw me enter with the boys, his face hardened.

“Emily,” Daniel said, taking a step forward. “This is a private medical facility.”

“Not anymore, Mr. Carter,” Agent Vance said, stepping in front of me.

Daniel looked at Vance’s badge, then at the officers filing into the lobby.