The Truth Buried Deep Inside My Father’s Empty New Jersey Coffin
Rows of empty glass observation rooms lined the walls.
In the center of the ward stood a single, illuminated bed surrounded by medical monitoring equipment.
A figure lay under a white sheet.
Beside the bed sat a woman in a dark tactical jacket.
Her hands were cuffed to the metal frame of the chair.
“Mara,” I whispered.
She raised her head slowly.
Her left eye was swollen shut, and a dark bruise ran down her jawline.
But her right eye was clear, and it flared with sudden panic.
“Natalie,” she rasped, her voice dry. “It’s a trap.”
I ran toward her, my boots slamming against the tile floor.
I reached her chair and grabbed her cuffs, inspecting the lock.
“Where is he?” I asked, looking at the bed.
The sheet on the bed was empty, piled to look like a body.
“He’s not here,” Mara said, her breath coming in quick gasps. “They moved him ten minutes ago.”
“Who?” I asked, pulling a bobby pin from my pocket and working it into the cuff lock.
“Voss,” she said. “He knew you were coming.”