She appeared around the corner, her hands held out in front of her as if she were searching for something in the dark.

Her eyes were wide and unfocused, and her white apron was stained with something dark near the hem.

“Mrs. Bellamy,” I whispered, stepping out of the shadows.

She gasped, dropping her flashlight, which rolled across the floor, its beam pointing toward the nursery door.

In the white light of the flashlight, I saw the nursery door was completely open now.

A shadow fell across the threshold, long and distorted against the blue carpet of the hallway.

The shadow belonged to a man, his silhouette tall and thin in the doorway.

“Lorenzo,” the man said, his voice calm and entirely devoid of fear.

It was Dr. Julian Halloran, holding a small, silver medical case in his left hand.

Lorenzo stepped out of the shadow, his gun raised and aimed directly at the pediatrician’s chest.

“Step away from the door, Julian,” Lorenzo said, his voice dangerously low.

“It’s too late for threats, Lorenzo,” Halloran said, taking a slow step backward into the dark nursery. “We need to finish the treatment.”