Chapter 4 - The Man in Room 302
Pain radiated through my scraped palms and bruised knees, but I felt none of it. My chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow hitches as I stared down the empty street where my daughter had just been ripped away from me.
“Sarah! Oh my goodness, Sarah!”
Mrs. Higgins was hurrying across the lawn, clutching her bathrobe around her frame, her eyes wide with shock. “I heard screaming! I saw Brett drive off like a maniac! What happened? Where is Hailey?”
“Call the police,” I choked out, grabbing Mrs. Higgins’ trembling wrists. “Call 911 right now! He took her! He took Hailey!”
Within eight minutes, two police cruisers pulled into my driveway, their red and blue lights flashing against the quiet suburban homes. Two officers stepped out—Officer Ramirez, a middle-aged woman with a stern, capable demeanor, and a younger partner.
They brought me into the living room, sitting me down on the couch while Mrs. Higgins brought me a glass of water and a warm towel for the blood on my hands.
“Mrs. Foster, take a deep breath,” Officer Ramirez said, holding a small notepad. “Tell us exactly what happened from the beginning. Why did your husband take your daughter by force?”
My hands shook so violently the water in the glass sloshed over the rim. “Because... because he’s not her father. And I’m not her mother.”
Officer Ramirez paused, exchanging a quick, wary look with her partner. “Mrs. Foster, I know you’re in shock—”
“Look at the floor in the hallway!” I yelled, pointing a trembling finger toward the foyer. “Look at the papers that fell out of his lockbox!”
The younger officer walked into the hall and knelt among the scattered documents. He picked up a yellowed piece of paper with an official hospital seal stamped at the top. His eyes scanned the text, and his expression hardened instantly. He walked back into the room and handed the paper to Ramirez.
“It’s a birth certificate, Ramirez,” he said quietly. “St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital, ten years ago. Baby Girl Infant—Unclaimed. Signed off by an administrator named Brett Foster.”
Officer Ramirez read the document quickly, her eyes widening. “This... this looks like an illegal adoption filing. An abductive placement.”
“He stole her from the hospital ten years ago,” I sobbed, clutching my face in my hands. “My real baby died during delivery while I was under anesthesia. Brett swapped the records and brought Hailey home to me. I had no idea! I lived a lie for ten years! And when Dr. Cooper found the jaw trauma today, he knew something was wrong!”
Officer Ramirez immediately reached for her radio on her shoulder. “Dispatch, this is Unit 4. We have a confirmed Priority One Amber Alert situation at 412 Maple Drive. Suspect is Brett Foster, driving a black 2021 Ford Explorer, plate number Victor-8-9-Tango. Suspect is armed and dangerous, traveling with a ten-year-old female victim, Hailey Foster. Issue an immediate regional dragnet.”
The radio crackled back with confirmation, sending shockwaves of urgency through the room.
“Mrs. Foster,” Ramirez said, kneeling down in front of me. “Where would he go? Does he have family nearby? A cabin? A boat?”
“The cabin in Maine,” I gasped, wiping tears from my eyes. “He mentioned the cabin in the north woods. Near Moosehead Lake. It’s off the grid. He has an offshore account... he said he was taking us there so no one could find us.”
“We’ll contact the Maine State Police and set up roadblocks on Interstate 95 immediately,” Ramirez assured me.
As the officers coordinated with dispatch, my phone vibrated violently on the coffee table.
I snatched it up, expecting a text from Brett. But the screen displayed an unknown number with a local area code.
I swiped the screen and pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello? Brett?!”
“Sarah? Is this Sarah Foster?”
The voice was deep, raspy, and completely unfamiliar. It belonged to an older man, his breathing strained, as if he were speaking through pain.
“Yes! Who is this?”
“My name is Dr. Gregory Cooper,” the voice whispered.
My heart plummeted. “Dr. Cooper! The police are here! Brett took Hailey—he burned your note and grabbed her!”
“Listen to me very carefully, Sarah,” Dr. Cooper said, his voice dropping to a harsh rasp. “I don't have much time. I’m at St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital... Room 302. You need to come here right now. Alone.”
“Dr. Cooper, why are you at the hospital? What’s going on?”
“Because I didn't just notice her jaw trauma today, Sarah,” Dr. Cooper wheezed, coughing weakly into the line. “I knew who Hailey was the second she walked into my office. Ten years ago... I was the attending pediatrician at St. Jude’s the night your real daughter was born. I’ve been looking for that baby for a decade.”
The line went dead with a sharp click.
I stared at the phone in total disbelief. Dr. Cooper knew. He hadn't just guessed based on an X-ray; he had recognized her.
I looked up. Officer Ramirez was in the kitchen, her back turned as she barked orders into her radio. The younger officer was out on the front porch talking to a detective who had just arrived.
Nobody was watching me.
May you like
I grabbed my coat, slipped my car keys off the kitchen hook, and crept quietly out the back door into the garage. I got into my sedan, started the engine silently, and backed out down the alleyway.
I didn't care about police protocol. I didn't care about danger. The answers to ten years of horror were waiting in Room 302 of St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital, and I was going to get them.
