"Has anyone from hospital administration been told why the department is locked?"
"Not that I can see." Maya heard movement on his end of the line. The man spoke more quickly. "Someone is checking archived video now. I shouldn't stay on this call."
"Don't." He paused; Maya added, "Preserve whatever records already exist. Don't alter anything."
The line went dead.
She stared at the phone for a second before calling Paul again. He answered immediately. "What happened?"
"Someone inside the hospital says the lockdown didn't come from hospital command."
Paul went quiet. Maya explained the redirected cameras, the police liaison credentials, and the search of Isaiah's backpack.
When she finished, Paul said, "I can make calls right now."
"Not yet."
"Maya, if they're still searching, they haven't found what they want. And your son is still in that building."
"I know that."
"Shouldn't that matter more than watching them make mistakes?"
Her voice remained calm, but the effort required to keep it that way was beginning to show. "It matters more than anything. That's exactly why I'm not going in blind."
Paul softened slightly. "What are you thinking?"
"If we move before we know what they're looking for, Harland gets warning. He can move the property, rewrite the detention, separate the staff who saw what happened, and claim whatever comes next was necessary because of our intervention."
Paul said nothing.
Maya looked down at the passenger seat. A white parking validation slip rested beside Isaiah's medical folder: one piece of paper existed to save a few dollars on parking; the other contained information that could matter when her son could not breathe. Both were meaningless unless someone honored what was written on them.
Her phone vibrated. A text from an unfamiliar number appeared: *They didn't find it.*
Before Maya could respond, another message arrived: *Harland ordered a search of medical property.*
Then a third: *They may move your son.*
Maya called Paul. This time, there was no hesitation in her voice. "Prepare everything."
Paul did not ask what she meant. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Maya reached beneath the center console and opened a small locked compartment. Inside lay a black leather credential wallet. She removed it without opening it.
Paul waited on the line.
Maya looked once more toward the emergency department. "Activate the team."
Inside St. Matthew Regional, the fake lockdown was beginning to create problems Harland had not anticipated: nurses could tolerate inconvenience for a few minutes, but they did not tolerate police officers obstructing patient care without explanation.
Nurse Evelyn Reed stood beside Isaiah's bed while Dr. Ethan Caldwell reviewed the monitor and listened to his breathing. Isaiah remained upright, because lying back made the tightness in his chest feel worse. The respiratory treatment had helped, but his breathing was still uneven, and his hands remained restrained in front of him.
Dr. Caldwell glanced toward the doorway. "I want the restraints loosened, and I want his rescue inhaler available if respiratory needs it."