Chapter 26 Emma
EMMA
“BP’s dropping. Get me a stat bag of O-neg!”
“He’s crashing. Start compressions!”
I’m pressed against the gurney, trying to keep my hands steady as blood pools under my gloves. Someone yells for another syringe, the surgeon calls out an order I barely catch, and the monitors won’t stop shrieking.
Mel shouts from the head of the bed, “He’s only sixteen, Emma. Don’t let go.”
“I’m not,” I say, voice shaking. “We need to get him to OR, now.”
“His airway’s going. Bag him!”
A paramedic bumps my shoulder, nearly knocking the IV line from my hand.
“Sorry!”
“It’s fine, just hold his arm up higher, like that—”
Time blurs.
There’s shouting, metal clanging, and blood everywhere. Everything moves too fast but seems slow at the same time.
We do everything we can, but his stabbed wounds have punctured his vital organs so badly. When the heart monitor finally goes flat, nobody says a word. The surgeon tears off his gloves and swears under his breath.
Out in the hallway, the boy’s mother screams—a sound I know I’ll never forget.
Later, I find myself crying in the break room, head in my hands, wiped out to my bones.
It’s always sobering to lose a patient, but kids are extra traumatizing.
I’m an empty shell when my shift ends, feeling like a mindless zombie walking to the train with a bagel I’m not hungry for.
The city blurs past the window. I try to disappear into the rhythm of the tracks and not think about how helpless I felt, or how much I just want someone to hold me.
I haven’t heard from Liam in weeks.
Weeks.
After that incredible night together, it’s like he’s just moved on.
I see him on TV, playing his games, so I know he’s okay. But he’s clearly shut me out.
Maybe he’s just giving me a taste of my own medicine for what I did after graduation.
Maybe he’s finally done with me, or perhaps that night meant less to him than it did to me. Maybe he felt nothing.
Maybe that was the closure he needed.
I don’t know. And the not knowing is eating me alive.
I mope around the apartment and work, pretending I’m fine.
I try to keep things light for Laddie, but he keeps asking when he gets to meet his dad. I don’t have the heart to tell him the truth that Liam doesn’t even know he exists, and now I’m not sure he ever will.
To make this whole thing harder, Talia’s got her boxes packed. She leaves soon for her first assignment as a traveling nurse in Boston.
Apparently, the company will put her up in a furnished apartment, so she doesn’t need much. Three boxes sit stacked in the entryway. One more, she’ll fill with the last of her things on the day of her move.
I’m trying not to think about how much I’ll miss her.
I still feel hollow, staring into space the whole ride, lost in a tornado of thoughts.
When the hairs on my arms raise, I snap upright to look around, feeling as if someone is watching me. But it’s just a woman reading a book and a guy arguing about stocks on his phone.
No one else.
I force myself back into my seat, reminding myself my stop is coming up.
I’m tired. That’s all.
Exhaustion makes me see shadows where there aren’t any.
Still, my spine won’t stop prickling.
When the train finally stops, I step out into a blast of wind. I shove my hands into my jacket pockets and walk fast.
Really fast.
I check over my shoulder once, twice… ten times.
Nothing. Nobody.
But the feeling clings to me anyway, cold and stubborn, and I hate how jumpy I am.
It feels like my brain is playing tricks on me. Like I’m coming apart at the seams.
When I climb the stairs to the apartment door, I finally let out the breath I’d been holding all the way home.
But the door is not locked, and the second I push inside, my blood turns to ice.
Talia’s boxes are knocked over, their contents spilled across the floor like someone kicked them hard.
“Tal?” I call out. My voice cracks. “Laddie?”
Nothing.
The apartment is wrongly, terrifyingly silent.
Usually, they’d be at the kitchen island by now, eating cereal and arguing about who gets the blue bowl. But there’s no breakfast, no dishes in the sink, no note on the counter. Laddie’s little backpack sits on a chair, untouched.
I can’t breathe. My chest goes tight as my vision blurs.
Where could they be?
I fumble for my phone and dial Talia, whispering, “Please, please, please,” under my breath. Nobody answers. Instead, a quiet buzzing comes from somewhere inside the apartment.
I turn, heart pounding, and spot her phone on the floor by the couch.
The screen is cracked, as if someone stepped on it.
I don’t know what else to do. My hands are shaking so badly that I almost drop my phone when I dial 9-1-1.
“What’s your emergency?” a female voice asks on the other line.
“My son… my sister… they should be here.” My voice is thin and shaking. “The apartment’s a mess. Their things are everywhere. My sister’s phone is here, broken. I think… I think they’ve been taken.”
She walks me through question after question.
When did I get home?
Where was I before this?
When did I last talk to Talia?
Did I notice any signs of injury? Any blood? Any struggle?
I try to answer everything, but my brain feels scrambled, like nothing wants to line up right. She tells me an officer will be here in ten minutes.
It’s the longest ten minutes of my entire life.
When the knock finally comes, I realize the door’s still open from when I ran inside.
Officer Mendoza steps in, a dark-haired man in his forties, calm in a way that makes me want to collapse.
The moment I see him, I start crying again. Hard.
He waits. Patient. Quiet.
He doesn’t rush me.
Once I manage to speak, he asks the same questions the dispatcher did. Then he slowly scans the room, taking everything in.
“I’ll call for someone to dust for prints,” he says, then turns back to me. “Is there anyone who would want to hurt you… Or your sister?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t think so.”
But as soon as I say it, I picture that Irishman, Marcus O’Rear, from Liam’s lawn. The way he looked at me, the crowbar in his hand.
But that doesn’t make sense. Why would he care about me? He doesn’t even know who I am. I have nothing to do with Liam’s father’s debt.
Right?
At some point, I end up on the couch, rocking back and forth, hugging myself tight.
My baby. My baby. I whisper it again and again.
Where is my baby?
The police are everywhere, dusting for prints, searching for anything that might help. They discuss checking with neighbors, looking for security cameras in the building, and hoping to find footage.
I hear them call my work, making sure I was there for my shift.
Making sure I’m not a suspect.
It all blurs together—the voices, the questions, the endless waiting.
All I can do is sit here, hoping for news. Just waiting for someone to tell me they’ve found my family.
When the police finally leave, only Officer Mendoza hangs back.
“Are you okay to be alone?” he asks. “Do you have someone you can call?”
“I’ll be okay,” I manage. “Just…please, let me know if you hear anything.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “We’ll find them.”
Then he’s gone, and the apartment is too quiet, too empty. I can’t stand it.
I pull out my phone and text Liam.
Emma: Emergency
I’m so used to my messages disappearing into the void that I don’t expect anything this time either.
However, this time it says ‘delivered.’ Then ‘read.’
My heart trips over itself.
Suddenly, his name pops up on my phone, calling me.“Emma,” he says. “What’s going on?”
I want to scream and yell. Where have you been? Why answer now? Why unblock me now? What the hell is going on? But all that comes out is a broken sob.
“Someone took my baby, Liam. Someone took Talia. They’re gone.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then he says something that makes no sense.
“I still have twenty-four hours.”
A lump rises in my throat.
“Liam, what does that mean?”
He goes silent. I can hear him breathing, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Liam!” My voice cracks as I scream into the phone. “What does that mean?”
He finally speaks, voice strained. “Two weeks ago, I got an envelope. It had pictures of you and my mom. There was a threatening note. They want a huge amount of money in fourteen days.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my teeth gritted so hard I think they might break off in my mouth. “Or what?”
“Or they said they’d kill one of you. You, or my mom.”
I force myself to breathe slowly and steadily. “But why would they take Talia and my son? They’re not me.”
“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Emma, I had a plan. I’ve been trying to fix this. But things are moving too slowly. I still had twenty-four hours. I was supposed to meet them tomorrow and end this.”
I scream.
I can’t stop.
I scream so loud that the neighbor knocks on my door. When I open it, he just looks at me with worry in his eyes and says he hopes the police find them soon.
“Are you there?” Liam asks.
I feel frozen. Am I even here? A strange, broken sound comes out of me.
“Liam. Why didn’t you tell me?” I manage, my voice hoarse.
“I...” He’s silent for a second. I can almost see him struggling to find the words. “I didn’t want you to worry. I thought I could handle it on my own. I was handling it. They just…cheated”
“They are the fucking mafia,” I say. “Of course, they cheated. And don’t I have the right to know if I’m in danger?
Don’t I matter enough for you to consider my safety in all of this?
Fuck you, Liam. Fuck you for not telling me, for shutting me out these past weeks.
I could have done something. I could have tried to protect them. ”
Goddammit, I’m crying again. I’m so angry, worried, and sick over this, and I can’t stop crying or screaming. And I feel so fucking helpless, scared, and lost.
“I’m coming over,” Liam says.
“The hell you are,” I say.
“Em—”
“Do. Not.” I snarl.
But then I think about it. He might be the only person who can help me get them back. And I really don’t want to be alone.
“Fine,” I say. “Come over. But don’t be surprised when I punch you in the mouth.”