Instead, the screen showed an incoming message from an unknown number.

I tapped the screen to open it.

It was a single image.

The photograph showed the main entrance of the hospital.

It had been taken from inside a parked car across the street, looking through a windshield dotted with raindrops.

A second later, a text message appeared beneath the photo.

My heart stopped.

The text message below the photo read: *I know she is in the third-floor nursery. Let me see her, Tessa, or I will blow this entire inheritance story wide open to the military press.*

I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over Naomi’s contact.

“Sergeant,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet of the cabin. “Lock the doors and head toward the federal courthouse. Do not stop.”

“Yes, Colonel,” the driver replied, his hand moving to the console.

The locks clicked in unison, a sharp, metallic sound.

I dialed Naomi’s direct line.

“Grant is at the hospital,” I said when she answered. “He just sent me a photo of the entrance.”

I heard the rustle of heavy legal paper on her end of the line.