Chapter Forty-One
Mindy
"For God's sake, move it!"
I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, weaving through an endless sea of brake lights. The hospital is still fifteen minutes away, and every second without my baby girl is like torture. Three days of not having her home has left a hollowness in my chest that only her presence can fill.
My stomach churns with a different kind of anxiety when I think about her seeing Alexis at our place. The surgery was hard enough - seeing Sharon so small in that hospital bed nearly broke me - but now I’m terrified she’ll retreat into herself completely. Having her aunt suddenly staying with us is going to be a big deal for her.
"Goddamnit!" I slam my palm against the wheel as traffic grinds to a complete halt. Desperate for distraction, I rummage through the glove compartment and thank whatever deity is listening when my fingers close around a Mars bar.
The chocolate melts on my tongue, and my thoughts drift to yesterday - how Alexis and I spent hours making Sharon’s room perfect. After years of distance between us, watching my sister blow up balloons and carefully hang the "Welcome Home, Honey Bunny!" banner above Sharon’s bed felt like healing something I thought would stay broken forever.
Finally, after what feels like years trapped in gridlock, I pull into St. Mary’s parking lot. My heart picks up speed with every step toward Sharon’s room, already picturing my baby’s tangled golden curls and bright blue eyes that can light up my whole world. She’ll be sitting cross-legged on the bed with her favorite stuffed bunny, waiting for her mama, ready to jump into my arms...
I push open the door with a smile already spreading across my face, but it dies instantly.
The room is empty.
The bed is made, sheets pulled tight and sterile. But there’s no Sharon. No welcome. No jumping in Mommy’s arms. Just the hollow echo of my own breathing in a cold, empty room.
What the hell?
"They must have taken her for a last-minute test," I mutter, trying to quiet the whisper of unease in my chest.
That’s when I spot Mr. Hoppy on the bedside table. Sharon’s cherished stuffed rabbit never leaves her side - not for X-rays, not for blood draws, not for anything. She’d sooner give up candy than let go of that worn-out bunny, especially in a hospital.
I move to the nightstand, my movements mechanical. Her small backpack is still there, untouched. Everything I’d hastily thrown together that terrifying night when the ambulance came is still packed neatly inside. The pajamas she always wears. Her favorite book. Her rainbow hair ties.
Strange.
Very strange.
"A nurse will know," I tell myself, but the hallway beyond her door is a desert of sterile silence. Only a janitor pushes his cart of cleaning supplies, the squeaking wheels echoing off the empty walls. That knot in my stomach tightens.
Stop overreacting, Mindy.
I sink into one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs that line the corridor, watching as occasional patients hurry past. The wall clock ticks with maddening slowness, each minute stretching like taffy. Ten of them crawl by as I sit there, my eyes bouncing between the corridor and Sharon’s empty room. My fingers tap out an anxious rhythm against my thigh.
They’ll bring her back soon.
Finally, I notice movement. A consulting physician hurries past the reception desk, white coat billowing behind him. I recognize his face, though he’s not Sharon’s doctor. But at this point, I’ll take any answers I can get.
"Excuse me," I call out.
He turns, offering a practiced smile. "Good morning. May I help you?"
"Good morning..." I glance at his nametag, "Dr. Patel. I’m Mindy Williams. I’m here to collect my daughter, Sharon. She’s supposed to be discharged this morning."
"Ah yes, Sharon!" His face brightens with recognition. "She’s just here in room 408."
"That’s just it," I say, my fingers twisting together. "Her room is empty."
Dr. Patel’s smile flickers, then fades. "Empty?" He reaches for his chart, professional efficiency masking what might be confusion. "Let me check..." His eyes scan the pages, his forehead creasing. "She is scheduled for discharge today. No tests or procedures noted for this morning."
"Could someone have taken her for a final check-up?" The question comes out smaller than I intended.
He shakes his head, already reaching for his phone. "Not without it being recorded here. Let me find out what’s happening."
I watch him walk away down the corridor, his white coat a retreating beacon in the sterile light. His voice echoes off the walls, growing fainter until he disappears around the corner.
So, I wait.
And wait.
The antiseptic hospital smell seems stronger now, choking me as I stand rooted to the spot, my nerves drawn bowstring-tight. Every tick of that damn clock on the wall is hammering against my skull. My eyes stay fixed on the corner where Dr. Patel vanished, willing him to return with my daughter skipping beside him.
But when Dr. Patel finally reappears, he’s alone. The friendly doctor from moments ago is gone, replaced by a ghost-white figure whose expression makes my blood run cold. He walks toward me like a man carrying the weight of the world.
"Ms. Williams," he begins, his voice shaking slightly, "I don’t know how to tell you this. I’m afraid I have some... disturbing news."
The blood drains from my face so fast the corridor tilts. What the hell does he mean? Where is my daughter? My heart slams against my ribs with such violence I swear it’s visible through my blouse. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I can only stare at him, desperately trying to read his expression.
He draws a shaky breath. "In my nearly thirty years at St. Mary’s, I’ve never... I mean, this is unprecedented..."
"Doctor. Where is my daughter?" The words escape me, scraped raw with fear.
Dr. Patel swallows hard. "Miss Williams, it seems that Sharon was already collected by a relative."
My stomach lurches violently. A relative? Did Maron come to get her? "What do you mean?" The words wheeze out.
"A woman signed for her and picked her up barely an hour ago. She claimed to be Sharon’s mother," Dr. Patel explains.
My world tilts on its axis. "But... what are you talking about? I’m Sharon’s mother!" My voice rises to a pitch I barely recognize.
"Miss Williams, I’m afraid... whoever picked up your daughter this morning, they had compelling replicas of your identification and all your personal information. It seems that our staff thought this woman was you."
What?
No!
My legs give out without warning, and I slam against the wall for support. The fluorescent lights overhead start to spin, merging into a nauseating blur. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as the reality of what he’s saying crashes over me.
My baby!
Someone took my baby!
They walked right in here pretending to be me and just... took her? The thought of Sharon, confused and scared, being led away by some stranger makes bile rise in my throat. Mr. Hoppy sits abandoned in that empty room - did she cry for him? Did she ask for me?
"I am so sorry, Miss Williams. We contacted the police and they are doing everything to find your daughter."
I can’t form words anymore. Panic tears through my body with such force it feels like I’m about to fall apart. My baby. My precious baby girl. The hallway echoes around us with the sound of a mother’s heart breaking.
Maron.
"Will you excuse me for a minute, Doctor?" My voice emerges as a broken whisper.
My fingers tremble so violently I can barely scroll through my contacts, but I find his name. I must speak to him. He may not want to see me again, but none of that matters now. Nothing matters except our daughter.
I press his name and hold the phone to my ear, my whispered plea desperate and raw. "Please pick up, Maron."
Six rings. Then his voicemail. His deep, commanding voice telling me to leave a message feels like a mockery.
Fuck!
I hit redial, my hand shaking so badly I nearly drop the phone. Each unanswered ring is like a knife in my chest as I pace the sterile hallway like a caged animal. "Come on, Maron," I plead into the silence. "This is about Sharon!"
Nothing.
A sob rips from my throat, primal and broken. The urge to hurl my phone against the wall is almost overwhelming. Of course, he won’t answer. He doesn’t want to talk to me. He’s punishing me for not telling him about his daughter.
The bitter irony crushes what’s left of my composure. The most powerful man in the city, the only person who could move heaven and earth to find our little girl, won’t pick up his damn phone. I slide down the wall, my legs finally giving out completely, as the horrible truth settles over me like a shroud.
I am completely, utterly alone.
And somewhere out there, Sharon needs me.