Could be foreign objects. Could be internal injuries. She’s in distress.
Tim jumped down after her, never taking his eyes off the child as they wheeled her into the brightly lit ER. She was gripping the stretcher rails now, her tiny knuckles white. Please, she whispered.
Tim walked alongside her, keeping his pace even. We’re going to help you. You’re safe now.
The girl didn’t respond. She just stared ahead, her body rigid, as they wheeled her through the double doors and into the unknown. Tim stopped just outside, watching as the doors swung shut.
He felt sick. The kind of sick that settled deep in his bones. The kind that didn’t go away.
A voice broke through the haze. Officer Watson? Tim turned. Dr. Eric Patel, head of the ER, was standing beside him, flipping through a patient chart.
His expression was grim. I need you to tell me everything you know. Now.
Tim exhaled sharply. She was taken by a man claiming to be her father. He resisted.
We don’t have proof of his identity yet, but he’s not her father. Tim stiffened. Dr. Patel’s gaze darkened.
We ran a quick scan before taking her into surgery. Whatever is inside her, it’s deliberate. And it was put there recently, less than 48 hours ago.
Tim’s stomach twisted. Drugs? He asked. Dr. Patel shook his head.
No. And that’s the part that concerns me. Tim clenched his jaw.
Then what is it? Dr. Patel’s eyes met his. And in a voice that made the air feel too still, he said, something mechanical. The world seemed to tilt.
Tim felt the words settle into his bones, into the space between his ribs where dread took hold and refused to let go. Mechanical? He repeated. Dr. Patel nodded.
It’s not organic. Whatever they put inside her, it’s not natural. Tim turned toward the ER doors.
His heart pounding harder than it had in years. Because suddenly, this wasn’t just an abduction. It wasn’t just trafficking.
It wasn’t just smuggling. It was something else. Something worse.
And whoever had done this wasn’t just trying to hide something inside her. They were waiting for it to be found. Tim Watson had thought he had seen the worst of it.
The stitches. The terror in the little girl’s eyes. The confession that her own daddy had done this to her.
But this, this was something else entirely. Something mechanical. The words clanged in his skull like a warning bell.
Tim turned sharply toward Dr. Patel, his pulse hammering. What the hell do you mean mechanical? Dr. Patel inhaled deeply, flipping through the scan results in his hands. The x-ray showed something embedded deep in her abdominal cavity.
It’s not organic. And it’s not narcotics. We’re looking at something metallic.
Small. Circular. Possibly electronic.
Tim felt his breath tighten. Metal. Electronics.
Inside a six-year-old girl. He had dealt with child trafficking, smuggling, and abuse cases before. He had seen the way these monsters treated children as objects.
As means to an end. But he had never, never come across something like this. You’re telling me they implanted a device in her? He asked, his voice low, controlled.
Dr. Patel nodded grimly. We need to operate immediately. But we have no idea what we’re dealing with.
If we don’t remove it soon, it could cause internal damage. Or worse. Tim didn’t say it, but he knew Patel was thinking the same thing.
They had no idea what was inside her. And they had no idea why it was there. Tim ran a hand down his face, trying to push back the anger swelling inside him.
He turned toward the ER doors, peering through the narrow window. Inside, the little girl lay motionless on the hospital bed. Her tiny body swallowed by the crisp white sheets.
Team of doctors and nurses worked around her, moving with quiet urgency. She looked smaller than ever. Vulnerable.
Alone. Tim had to do something. He spun back to Dr. Patel.
Go ahead with the surgery. But I need to get answers now. Dr. Patel gave him a solemn nod.
I’ll keep you updated. Tim didn’t waste another second. He stormed down the hall, through the automatic doors, and into the waiting area where two uniformed officers stood guard.
Between them, handcuffed to a metal chair, was the man from the bus. His head was down. His shoulders hunched.
His face was smeared with dried blood from where Tim had slammed him against the pole. Tim stopped in front of him. The man didn’t look up.
Tim’s jaw clenched. His fingers itched to grab him, shake him, demand answers. But he forced himself to stay calm.
She called you daddy, Tim said evenly. But we both know that’s a damn lie. So tell me, who are you? Silence.
Tim took a step closer. What did you do to that little girl? The man exhaled slowly, tilting his head up just enough for Tim to see the cold glint in his eyes. He smirked.
And that smirk sent a chill down Tim’s spine. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t regret.
It was satisfaction. Like he had already won. Tim’s fists curled.
Talk. Now. The man leaned back against the chair, his cuffs rattling.
You’re too late. Tim’s breath stalled. The room felt colder.
He took another step forward, his voice like steel. Too late for what? The man just smiled. And alarm bells exploded in Tim’s mind.
He spun toward the officers. Get the bomb squad here. Now.
One of them flinched. Bomb squad? Tim turned back to the man, his pulse a roaring thunder in his ears. Tell me what’s inside her.
The man gave a lazy shrug. Wouldn’t you like to know? Tim saw red. He lunged forward, grabbing the man by the collar and yanking him up so fast that the chair screeched against the tile floor.
Tell me. The smirk never faded. Enjoy the show.
Tim let go, shoving him back down. He turned to the officers. Get this bastard out of here.
Maximum security. No visitors. No phone calls.
And someone get me a goddamn trace on his identity. They scrambled into action. Tim was already moving.
Sprinting back toward the ER. Too late. What the hell did that mean? He burst through the doors just as Dr. Patel was coming out.
The look on his face made Tim’s stomach plummet. Watson. We have a problem.
Patel said, his voice tight. Tim’s throat was dry. Tell me.