Proof

by Jordyn Redwood

  “Lucent doesn’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “John, it’s your family. You need to make the decision. Think about what’s best for your kids. I’m really concerned about your baby boy. I want to get him out of the heat. Don’t let Lucent force you to do something that will hurt your kids.”

  More silence … everlasting silence. The black-haired girl peeked out the left, first-floor window.

  Peek-a-boo.

  “All right. He says it’s fine.”

  “Great. Just do everything slowly. All right?”

  Samuals had disconnected the phone.

  “You ready?” Nathan asked Watson.

  “Absolutely.”

  Grabbing the box of food, Watson approached several of his comrades. Watson spoke into the mike wired to his ear and circled three fingers in the air behind the other hand, which was stretched out flat. Three SWAT members ran over to Watson’s position, one of them hefting a ballistic shield weighing more than seventy pounds. The importance of his job was set in his face. Every man behind him was counting on his stamina and ability to remain steadfast, especially under fire. He was the bullet catcher, and he wouldn’t let them down.

  Watson passed the food off to Ryan, who took the middle position. The third man was there to cover Ryan because his hands would be full. The three set off for the front door at a steady pace. Taking it too slowly would put extra strain on the lead man. The front man stopped a couple of feet from the door, and then the small unit swung to the right, taking up position along the exterior wall, crouching beneath the picture window before inching closer to the screen.

  From Nathan’s vantage point, he could see a woman framed in the doorway. He grabbed his binoculars for a closer look. The right sleeve of her dress was torn and several long scratches made their way down the length of her arm.

  Scratches or knife marks?

  Nathan couldn’t be sure from this distance. The screen door opened, and out through the crack was borne a two-year old and a young woman holding a small baby, struggling to keep him contained in her arms.

  Ryan set the box of food down to the side of the shield. When his hands were free, he lunged forward in a slow but sure motion to brush the threesome back behind him.

  The small child scurried out of his reach and back to the house. Her little fists pounding on the aluminum screen cut through the stillness.

  Nathan felt panic rise in his chest.

  Ryan grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her back behind the barrier. The child fought to get away. Her cries fed Nathan’s anxiety.

  From the corner, two additional SWAT members came forward and waved the children to come toward them as Ryan tried to scoot them away from the house. Concern propelled one officer forward, and he snatched the infant from the young woman, tucking the boy into his chest like a linebacker heading for the goal. He offered his back to the residence as a shield for the child and jogged off at an angle that offered Samuals a limited target. The second perimeter man scooped the toddler up in one arm, pulled the young woman away with his free hand, and headed off in the same direction. Once everyone was concealed in the thick trees, they were moved to an additional ambulance.

  Nathan’s heart sank. Raven was not among them.

  When was the last moment he’d seen her look through the window?

  With the number of promised children out of the house, the approach team pivoted left and began retracing their steps back toward the perimeter. When they were halfway back, Watson called out that the screen door was opening. The woman Nathan had caught a glimpse of before, presumably Samuals’ wife, crawled out toward the box of food. Nathan, along with everyone else, could see that John held the shotgun’s muzzle in contact with the back of her head. The further she got out the front door, the more he leaned, hanging onto the door frame so he wouldn’t fall forward.

  “Sniper one has a clear shot right now. What do you want to do?”

  “Hold! No fire! No fire!”

  Watson relayed the order.

  “This is progress, Lee. He’s not going to shoot her because she’s bringing the food in. He’s just letting us see that he’s in control and he’s not letting his guard down. He won’t kill her. No fire.”

  The moment passed. The woman crawled back, dragging the box inside, and they both disappeared into the shadows.

  “Three down, four to go,” Watson said. “EMS is checking out the kids now.”

  “Good job.” Nathan slapped his shoulder. “Your team executed that perfectly.”

  It wasn’t too long after they stopped congratulating one another that Watson received a call from one of his team members who had taken the children to the ambulance.

  “Nathan, my SWAT medic wants us at their location. Something’s wrong with the kids.”

  It was rare for people who worked as first responders to become nervous. After all, they had seen the worst of the worst and past that point every day, many of them for years. It was usually children that caused distress.

  And usually something that shouldn’t be happening to children.

  Nathan and Lee hurried to the ambulance that was stationed about five hundred yards away and entered the back. The two older children were seated on the pram, the younger girl clinging to her older sister. Fresh tears made clean wakes down their dirty faces. Another paramedic held the infant to his chest, stroking the back of his head to calm his cries.

  Each girl was dressed in tattered tank tops and shorts. There were several open lacerations on each of them. Nathan took a knee before the young woman. He guessed her to be in her early twenties.

  “I’m Nathan.”

  “Keelyn.” The water bottle she held in her hands shook as much as her voice trembled.

  “I want to be sure I know how many are left in the house. Can you tell me?”

  Keelyn’s hand clenched the thin plastic, causing water to geyser through the top and onto her legs. She swiped at her knees, mixing the fluid with dirt sending small rivers of mud down her calves. Nathan reached forward and placed his hands over hers to still her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  “Keelyn?”

  “My mother, step-father, and three more kids.”

  “Where is Lucent?” Even though John’s psychiatrist claimed Lucent wasn’t real, it was Nathan’s job to ensure he had the most accurate on-site information.

  “Lucent is nowhere. He’s a ghost.”

  “Why did he let you go when I asked for the three smallest children?”

  “He wanted me to take care of the baby.”

  “What are these wounds, Keelyn? All of you have them.” Lee bent in for a closer look.

  Nathan scooted on his knees a few inches, positioning himself in front of the younger sister. He lifted up her shirt, revealing puncture wounds that dotted her abdomen and chest.

  “They’re hesitation marks,” Nathan said. “He’s been practicing with his knife on them. Trying to get up the nerve to do as Lucent asks.”

  “The baby?” Lee asked.

  The paramedic gently lifted the back of the infant’s shirt.

  He was the worst of all of them.

  “Keelyn, did your step-father do this?” Lee asked.

  Her trembling became so severe that Nathan eased the water bottle from her hand. Lee sat next to her and placed a protective arm around her shoulders.

  “Why?”

  “He does as Lucent asks.”

  “Why do you let him?” Nathan persisted. Lee’s piercing look told him he’d crossed a line.

  “If we didn’t, he said he’d kill my mother.”

  “He promised me he wasn’t going to hurt them.” Nathan stood.

  “We’ve got to get in there.” Lee eased away from Keelyn and waived the SWAT medic over.

  “Wait, Lee. Let me call.”

  Nathan grabbed the phone. It rang. This time there was a delayed answer.

  It stopped ringing, but there wasn’t any salutation.

  “John? Can y
ou hear me?”

  “I’m sorry …”

  “John, what’s happened?”

  “I couldn’t take it. Lucent said they would at least be in heaven.”

  “What did you do, John!”

  The response sounded like a prayer, broken by loud sobbing.

  “Lee! Hit the house now! Take it down!”

  Lee jumped from the back of the ambulance, landing solidly on two feet, barking orders through his earpiece. Ryan’s team sprinted for the front door. At the side of the house, three members of the perimeter group busted windows by pitching flash-bang grenades. The sound was like thunder, deafening even at a distance. The entry team poured through the front door, which had been broken in half by a well-aimed kick.

  A shotgun blast rang out.

  Nathan was troubled by what he didn’t hear.

  No screaming or crying from frightened children.

  Please, Lord.

  He stepped down from the rig and walked slowly to the house. He could hear the men shouting as they cleared the residence. The commotion was over in seconds and there was a cloud of dust caught in the humid air. Waves of heat distorted his vision as he continued to walk forward. Two officers half fell, half pulled John Samuals out of the front of the house.

  “Get the medics in here!”

  Nathan ran forward and crossed over the threshold.

  The wife and remaining children were piled up, a hill of bodies bathed red in the middle of the living room, duct tape over their mouths so their screams of pain would be silenced. He eased limp forms off the pile, placing them on their backs; each had wounds incompatible with life.

  Raven was at the bottom.

  Picking her up, he placed his cheek next to her lips and felt the flutter of her breath whisper against the side of his face. Her brown eyes opened and settled on his before she twisted from his embrace, crying and reaching for her mother.

  He felt something inside himself shatter.

  Sometimes it’s hard to identify a man’s breaking point.

  But Nathan knew it was this day for him.

  As he held the young girl in his arms and rocked her gently, stroking her head and pulling her eyes away from the mother she longed for, Nathan knew this was his last day with the FBI.

  This day, he started his list of unforgivables.

  And this was number one.

  Chapter 3

  September 3

  KADIN HOVERED OVER Sara, the baby he’d delivered from Torrence Campbell in the ER a week ago. She was snuggled in lamb’s wool, lying within the clear walls of the Isolette, her black hair combed and parted to one side. A pink bow with pearl center was secured to her head with a drop of corn syrup. A tube parted her pale lips.

  He glanced at the monitor and watched the infant’s heart rate dropping despite the efforts of Dr. Kerns, the neonatologist who now looked down with a defeated countenance. Nancy, Torrence’s mother, held the small baby’s hand between her fingers. She caressed the ivory skin, tears threatening to breach her lower eyelids. Paul, her husband, seemed to sink within himself and leaned against a chair one of the nurses had brought for him. He refused to sit down.

  “There is honestly nothing more we can do,” Dr. Kerns said, his voice breaking pitch.

  “Won’t you try to restart her heart if it stops?” Paul asked.

  “Sara is already on the maximum amount of medications that we can use to keep her heart going. Again, as I’ve told you, the issue is not with her heart. Her problem is the large bleed in her head. Because of it, her brain cannot control the functions of her body anymore. That’s why she’s dying.”

  “What about taking her to surgery and taking the clot out?” Nancy said through stifled tears.

  “The blood is diffuse and can’t be removed. I think your time will be better spent saying good-bye.”

  Kadin rested a gentle hand over Nancy’s arm. She gripped the baby’s hand tighter and closed her eyes. Tears split caverns down each cheek. Paul withered into the chair, dropping his face into his hands. His shoulders heaved.

  “Do you mind if I say a prayer for Sara?” Kadin asked. With her free hand, Nancy dabbed each of her eyes with a crumpled, torn tissue as she nodded her assent. “Lord, we pray for Sara. We ask that you swaddle her in your comfort and ease her suffering. Give peace to her loving grandparents as you come today to take her home.”

  In his peripheral vision, Kadin saw the woman swoon and reached for her arm to hold her steady. One of the nurses sensed his plight and rolled an additional chair to the bedside. He eased her gently into the seat.

  For several minutes, each was quiet. Dr. Kerns watched the monitor. Paul was stoic, eyes wide and unblinking. Nancy wept without making a sound. Kadin prayed silently, both of his hands covering the baby through the portholes.

  Finally Kadin secured the closures and turned from the Isolette. He lowered himself to his knees in front of the grandmother. “I want to take Sara to Torrence.”

  “That will kill her!” Nancy pushed up from her chair. Kadin stood as well, stepping back.

  “I think it could help her. She’s never had a chance to be with the baby.” Dr. Kerns turned away from the monitor, arms folded across his chest.

  “Do we have to tell her the baby is dying?” Paul asked.

  “We can leave that to your discretion,” Kadin answered.

  “I think we should, Nancy. Just bring the baby to her and see what happens. Torrence is strong.”

  “The baby is the whole reason she’s dying!” Nancy clutched her shirt in her hands. “If Torrence had done what that monster asked and done away with it, she wouldn’t be in such straights!”

  “Nancy, we will not travel down this path. I know you don’t mean it! The only guilty party is the man who victimized her.”

  “And we still don’t even know that. Nothing good has come from her keeping the baby.”

  Paul stood in defiance and approached Kadin. “Take the baby to Torrence.” He turned to Kerns. “We give you permission to stop your efforts to save Sara’s life.”

  After those words, he left. Nancy followed with slow steps in his wake, once glancing back with pain-ridden eyes. “Forgive me,” she mouthed.

  Dr. Kerns was at the Isolette. He opened the side access door and pulled Sara toward him. He made quick work of disconnecting the monitors and removed the breathing tube from her lungs. One of the nurses approached Kadin, a white patchwork blanket with pink stars folded between her hands.

  “Is this one of my sister’s quilts?” Kadin asked.

  “We’ve been saving this one for the right baby.” She unfolded the blanket and placed it over Kadin’s outstretched arms. His throat thickened. Dr. Kerns placed the infant in the middle, bundling the edges around her and bringing the top down to cover her face.

  “Steve, thanks for letting me do this.”

  “You’re going to need to hurry,” he said.

  Kadin turned to the nurse who’d brought the quilt. “Call the ICU for me—.”

  “Already done.” She smiled, nudging him forward.

  Leaving the neonatal ICU with Sara, Kadin rounded the last hall and waited for the elevator. Sometimes his determination in bonding babies with their mothers, even if they were dying, defied logic. In reality, it was penance for an act that had caused unending suffering to someone close to him.

  Early in his career, his sister miscarried a baby at twenty weeks that was disfigured from a rare genetic mutation. Fearing the trauma it would inflict on Ellie’s psyche, he refused to let her see or hold the baby, convincing her she would heal better if she never connected to the infant.

  It resulted in the exact opposite.

  Ellie grieved the baby in every quilt she made for other sick infants. The nursery was a kaleidoscope of her tears. Even after five years, she didn’t stop sewing through her despair.

  It was always the unknowing that festered open wounds.

  A woman tapped his shoulder. The elevator doors opened in front of him
.

  “Can I see the baby?” She reached forward, attempting to pull the corner of the quilt up to see Sara’s face.

  He swiveled his body, and the cloth slipped from the woman’s fingers.

  “I’m sorry, she’s got RSV. No harm to you, but we don’t want to spread the virus around the hospital.” Scurrying into the elevator, he pushed the button for his desired floor. The woman’s blank look was framed by the closing doors. He leaned against the back wall, letting his held breath escape slowly.

  He made his way to Torrence’s room and saw Lilly at her bedside. Joy edged into his sadness.

  “Not enough mayhem to keep you busy in the ER today?” Kadin hugged the infant close to his chest.

  “I came to check on her. The nurses told me you were bringing the baby. I thought I’d sit with you.”

  “How is Torrence doing?”

  “Her parents made her a DNR. The neurosurgeon believes she’ll be in a persistent vegetative state from her head injury. Her organs are failing. It’s not likely she’ll live much longer. The baby?”

  “Kerns let me bring her here to say good-bye.”

  Lilly crossed the room, grabbed the wooden rocker that sat in the corner and pushed it closer to Kadin.

  “The baby may be what Torrence is holding on for. Her injuries are so devastating that there’s really no reason she should still be alive.”

  “Maybe we should call her parents,” Kadin said.

  “They were just here and made it clear they don’t want to come back. They’ve already said good-bye.”

  “I guess we better not waste any more time. Shall we introduce Sara to her mother?”

  Kadin stood and approached the bedside. Tubes snaked out from beneath Torrence’s covers. The ventilator and dialysis machines hissed and hummed in the background. He rested Sara at the foot of the bed and unwrapped her from the quilt. Removing the blankets nearest him, he pulled Torrence’s arm away from her body and with one hand, scooped the baby and laid her in the crook of her mother’s arm.

  “Torrence … this is your baby, Sara.” Kadin edged the rocker closer. “She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of babies.” He encircled Sara with her mother’s limp hand. Watching closely for several minutes, he saw the baby breathing only intermittently.