Chapter 37 - The empty cell
The rain turned into a blinding storm as Ethan’s armored SUV pulled up outside the Westchester Private Care Pavilion. Two federal marshals, summoned by Ethan’s personal connections in the Department of Justice, met them under the covered entryway with weapons concealed beneath their trench coats.
"We have a warrant to inspect the custody status of inmate Julian Caldwell," Marshal Ramirez stated, flashing his badge at the nervous receptionist.
The head administrator, sweating profusely, led them down the third-floor corridor toward Room 314. The room was marked with a biohazard quarantine sign. Grace pushed past the marshals and kicked the door open without hesitation.
The hospital bed was neatly made. The heart monitor beside it was emitting a rhythmic beep, connected to a plastic dummy wrapped in hospital sheets. On the bedside table sat a half-eaten sandwich, an empty IV bag, and a cheap prepaid burner phone resting on top of a Caldwell Industries employee badge.
"He's been gone for at least twelve hours," Grace said, touching the cold mattress.
Suddenly, the burner phone began to vibrate, its blue screen flashing with an incoming call from an unknown number.
Marshal Ramirez moved to secure it, but Ethan stepped forward and hit the speaker button.
"Julian?" Ethan demanded, his voice thick with fury.
A harsh, mechanical laugh came through the speaker. It wasn't Julian’s whining voice. It was deep, rasping, and utterly calm—Marcus Vance.
"Hello, Ethan," Vance said smoothly. "Julian is busy enjoying his first taste of fresh air in a decade. He’s quite eager to see your lovely home again."
"If you come anywhere near my niece, I will spend every dollar Caldwell Industries owns to bury you," Ethan snarled.
May you like
"You won't have to look far, Ethan," Vance replied with a chilling chuckle. "You brought all your guards to Westchester. Check your home security feeds. Right now."
The line went dead.
