“St. Jude’s Maternity, Sector Four,” I said.
“I triggered the lockdown.”

“Hold tight, sweetheart,” my father said.
“I am already in the city.”
“I will be there in five minutes.”

The call went dead.
I placed the phone on the bedside table and looked up at my husband.
Nolan glared at me, his jaw clenched, still holding the forged papers.
Heavy footsteps began to echo down the corridor outside our door.

The handle of our door rattled violently from the outside.
A key card beeped twice, but the indicator light remained red.
Someone outside began to speak through the small glass viewing pane.
The shadow of a man in a dark suit blocked the light from the hallway.

“Evelyn,” Nolan said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Who was that on the phone?”

I smiled slightly, pulling the blanket closer around Maisie.
The door lock clicked.
The green light on the reader finally flashed.

The heavy walnut door swung inward, hitting the rubber stopper on the wall with a dull thud.

My father stepped into the room first.