Chapter 9
The physician froze, his hands hovering in the air as Detective Vance drew his weapon, pointing it squarely at the center of the doctor’s white lab coat. The hospital room, moments ago a scene of frantic medical rescue, had transformed into a crime scene in real time.
“Step away from the bed, hands behind your head, right now,” Vance ordered, his voice carrying the hardened authority of a veteran cop.
The doctor slowly complied, backing away from Clara’s lifeless body, though a cold, calculated smirk played at the corners of his mouth. “You’re making a terrible mistake, Detective. I was just following standard emergency protocols for a patient in toxic shock.”
“Protocols don't involve swapping saline for a lethal dose of potassium chloride,” Julian growled, stepping forward with the IV bag still clutched tightly in his hand. He looked at the dead woman on the bed, then back at the doctor. “Who paid you off? Was it Clara’s associates, or did you have a direct line to the person pulling the strings from the very beginning?”
Before the doctor could answer, the room’s intercom system crackled to life with a loud, piercing feedback squeal.
“Attention all hospital security and local law enforcement. Active perimeter breach reported in the basement parking garage. Suspect fleeing in a black sedan matching the description of the groom’s vehicle.”
Maya gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Your car? Julian, your car is parked downstairs!”
Julian didn't hesitate. He tossed the IV bag onto the metal tray, turned on his heel, and bolted out the hospital room door before Vance could even issue a command to stop him.
“Hey! Hayes, get back here!” Vance shouted, sprinting after him down the linoleum hallway, leaving Maya standing alone in the dark room with a dead woman and a corrupt doctor.
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Maya stood frozen for a second, her mind rebelling against the sheer chaos surrounding her. But as she looked down at the floor, she noticed something glittering beneath the metal IV pole. She knelt down slowly, brushing her fingers against the cold tile, and picked up a small, heavy silver cufflink stamped with a distinct monogram: M.V.
Her heart skipped a beat. Those weren't Julian’s initials. They belonged to Detective Vance.
