“It is a delivery van,” she said. “They left a package on the steps.”

Marcus motioned for me to stay behind him.

“Lock this door behind us,” he told the guard in the hallway.

“Marcus, I am coming with you,” I said.

“No, Maren—”

“I am not staying here while my husband is out there,” I said, my voice firm.

Marcus looked at me for a second, then nodded.

We walked down the stairs to the lobby.

Dr. Evans was standing near the security monitors, staring at the screen.

The exterior camera showed the rain-slicked steps of the clinic.

A large, wooden crate sat directly in front of the glass doors.

It was wrapped in heavy plastic.

Attached to the top of the crate was a bright white envelope.

“Is there any sign of Rowan?” I asked, my chest tightening.

“Nothing on the sensors,” Dr. Evans said.

Marcus approached the double doors, his weapon drawn.

He peered through the glass at the crate.

“It is too light to be an explosive of that size,” Marcus muttered. “But we do not take chances.”