Chapter 7 - Midnight VisitorsThe digital clock on the bedside table read 2:14 AM.
Sophie was fast asleep, her soft, rhythmic breathing filling the quiet hospital room. The gauze over her ear was clean, and the fever had finally broken an hour ago.
I sat in the uncomfortable plastic armchair beside her bed, wrapped in a heavy wool blanket, staring out the window at the falling snow blanketing downtown Chicago. My phone lay in my lap, dark and silent. Marcus hadn't called back yet, which either meant he was still digging or he had hit a brick wall.
Suddenly, a soft click echoed from the hallway.
I froze.
It wasn't the sound of the heavy wooden door opening. It was the distinct, metallic click of a keycard sliding into the electronic door lock, followed by the low, pneumatic hiss of the latch releasing.
Hospital staff didn't use keycards at 2:14 AM for a routine check; they knocked or simply pushed the door open.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I slowly stood up, letting the wool blanket drop silently to the floor. I grabbed a heavy metal IV pole standing beside the bed, gripping it with both hands like a baseball bat, positioning myself between the door and Sophie’s bed.
The door handle slowly began to turn.
Click.
The door pushed inward, opening an inch, casting a narrow strip of harsh fluorescent hallway light across the darkened linoleum floor.
A gloved hand reached inside, gripping the edge of the door, pushing it open wider.
I raised the heavy metal pole, adrenaline surging through my veins, ready to bring it down with everything I had.
"Evelyn! Stop, don't swing!"
A gruff, familiar voice hissed from the doorway as a tall figure stepped quickly into the room and kicked the door shut behind him.
I lowered the IV pole by a fraction of an inch, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. It was Marcus Thorne. He was wearing a dark trench coat dusted with fresh snow, his face grim and weathered.
"Marcus? What the hell are you doing breaking into a hospital room in the middle of the night?" I whispered fiercely, my hands still trembling slightly around the metal pole. "You scared ten years off my life!"
Marcus walked over, ignoring my outburst, and pulled a small, black cryptographic thumb drive out of his pocket, tossing it lightly onto the bedside table.
"I didn't just trace that text message, Evelyn," Marcus said, his voice deadly serious. "I found out who sent it. And it’s not one of Preston’s college buddies."
I slowly lowered the IV pole all the way, setting it against the wall. "Who was it?"
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Marcus pulled a folded printout from his coat and laid it flat on the hospital tray table. It was a corporate registration document bearing the official seal of the State of Delaware.
"It wasn't your brother who set you up tonight," Marcus said, looking me dead in the eye. "It was your father."
