Chapter 7 - The Final Stand in Room 402
My heart hammered so hard against my ribs I thought it would crack.
“How did you get in here?” I asked, stepping directly between Brenda’s gun and the isolette, using my body as a human shield to cover the baby. “The building is surrounded by cops.”
“Cops are cheap,” Brenda spat, taking a slow step forward, the gun leveled straight at my chest. “Jonathan Reid pays much better. He gave me the security bypass codes. He wanted me to finish the job I started in the kitchen.”
“He was going to pay you fifty thousand to starve a newborn?” I yelled, trying to buy time, hoping a nurse or Officer Vance would hear me.
“He was paying me two million!” Brenda snapped, her control slipping. “The flour, the lead weights, the colander—it was all meant to make the autopsy look like a tragic accident! An infant suffocation! But you had to lift that damn dish!”
“He’s just a baby!” I screamed, tears running down my face. “He hasn't even had a chance to live!”
“He’s a three-billion-dollar paycheck!” Brenda shouted, raising the gun. “Now move!”
“No!”
Instead of stepping aside, I grabbed the heavy metal IV pole beside the incubator and swung it with all the strength left in my body.
CLANG!
The stainless steel pole slammed into Brenda’s arm. The gun went off with a muffled POF, the bullet shattering the glass window behind me. Brenda shrieked in pain as the pistol flew from her hand, clattering across the slick linoleum floor.
She lunged at me like a wild animal. We crashed to the floor together, rolling into the metal tray of surgical instruments. Her fingers dug into my hair, pulling my head back, while I scrambled wildly across the floor, reaching for anything to hit her with.
My fingers closed around the heavy metal base of a blood pressure monitor.
I swung it upward with a primal scream, striking her full in the jaw.
Brenda cracked backward, hitting her head against the concrete wall, and slumped unconscious onto the floor, blood pooling from her nose.
Panting, bruised, and bleeding from a scrape on my arm, I scrambled to my feet, grabbed the dropped gun, and kicked it under the far cabinet.
The door to the NICU burst open. Detective Vance rushed in, weapon drawn, followed by three armed police officers.
“Maya!” Vance yelled, taking in the scene—the shattered glass, the knocked-over equipment, and Brenda lying unconscious on the floor.
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“Reid sent her!” I panted, pointing a shaking finger toward the door. “Jonathan Reid! He’s in the parking lot—he set the whole thing up!”
Vance turned to her officers. “Lock down the perimeter! Arrest Jonathan Reid immediately! Don't let his cars leave the lot!”
