Chapter 5 - The Ambush at Northwestern
The fluorescent lights of Room 314 at Northwestern Memorial Hospital hummed with a low, clinical buzz. Outside the third-floor window, the Chicago skyline was partially swallowed by a thick, swirling snowstorm.
Clara Bennett lay back against the elevated hospital bed, her right arm tethered to an IV pole, a fetal heart monitor strapped around her swollen stomach. The steady, rhythmic *thump-thump-thump* of her baby's heartbeat echoed through the quiet room, a fragile, miraculous sound that brought fresh tears to Clara's eyes.
"Fetal heart rate is 142," the floor nurse, an older woman named Brenda, said kindly as she taped the final butterfly bandage over Clara's sutured forehead. "Strong. Resilient. Just like her mama. The contractions have subsided completely. You're going to be okay, Clara."
"Thank you, Brenda," Clara whispered. Her head felt heavy, wrapped in gauze, but the terror inside her remained razor-sharp. "Is the police officer still outside the door?"
"Officer Kowalski? Yes, honey. He's sitting right out in the hallway, drinking terrible hospital coffee. Nobody is getting in here without a badge."
Brenda smiled, patted Clara's hand, and pulled the privacy curtain closed before stepping out into the corridor.
Clara closed her eyes, trying to breathe through the phantom pain in her skull. Every time she shut her eyelids, she saw the brass nameplate flying toward her face. She saw the manicured fury in Evelyn Voss’s eyes. She saw the little girl’s pale face peeking out from the splintered plaster.
*Mara, please be careful. Please come back to me.*
In the hallway outside Room 314, Officer Kowalski stood up from his plastic chair to stretch his back. He glanced at his watch: 11:38 PM.
From the far end of the corridor, an orderly wearing hospital scrubs, a surgical mask, and a low-brimmed cap pushed a metal supply cart toward the room. Kowalski stepped into the center of the hallway, raising a hand.
"Hold on, buddy," Kowalski said. "This room is restricted. Nobody goes in without the detective's clearance."
"Dr. Aris requested an immediate blood draw for the tox screen on the Bennett patient," the orderly said. His voice was deep, muffled by the mask.
Kowalski frowned. "Let me see your hospital ID badge."
The orderly reached into the chest pocket of his scrubs. But instead of an ID badge, his hand emerged gripping a heavy, sound-suppressed .22 caliber pistol.
*Phut. Phut.*
Two muffled pops barely registered above the hum of the ventilation system. Kowalski gasped, his hands flying to his chest as two small, dark circles bloomed through his uniform. His knees buckled, and he collapsed silently against the carpeted corridor floor.
The orderly didn't pause. He grabbed Kowalski by the collar, dragged the dying officer behind the linen closet door, and stepped into Room 314.
Inside, Clara heard the faint click of the door lock turning.
"Brenda?" Clara called out, turning her head toward the door. "Did the doctor come back?"
The privacy curtain was yanked aside with violent force.
Standing over the bed was not Brenda. It was a broad-shouldered man in surgical scrubs, his eyes cold and dead above his mask. In his gloved right hand, he held a plastic syringe filled with a clear, colorless liquid.
Clara’s heart stopped. She opened her mouth to scream, but the man’s left hand struck like a viper, clamping down over her nose and mouth, suffocating the sound in her throat.
"Shh," the man whispered, his grip like an iron vise, pinning Clara’s head back into the pillow. "Make it easy on yourself, lady. Ms. Voss sends her regards."
Clara fought with every ounce of strength remaining in her pregnant body. She thrashed against the mattress, her fingernails clawing at the man's rubber-gloved wrists. The fetal heart monitor began to shriek as Clara's pulse spiked, the machine sounding an ear-splitting alarm: *BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!*
The assassin cursed, pressing his full weight down against Clara’s chest, raising the syringe toward the rubber injection port on her IV line.
*Not my baby. NOT MY BABY!*
Adrenaline surged through Clara's veins. With a desperate, explosive heave, she drew her right leg up, curled her foot, and kicked outward with all the force of her lower body, planting her heel directly into the man’s groin.
The assassin grunted, his eyes widening in shock as the pain doubled him over. His grip on her mouth slipped.
"HELP!" Clara screamed at the top of her lungs, the cry tearing from her throat. "MURDER! HELP ME!"
The man snarled, recovering instantly. He dropped the syringe, drew an eight-inch combat blade from his waistband, and lunged toward Clara's throat.
The hospital room door didn't just open—it shattered off its hinges.
Detective Frank Miller charged into the room like an enraged bull, having arrived on the floor just in time to hear the heart monitor alarm. Miller didn't waste breath yelling. He saw the blade, saw the blood on the floor, and fired his .40 caliber service Glock once.
The gunshot in the small room was deafening.
The bullet struck the assassin in the right shoulder, spinning him around. The blade clattered to the linoleum floor. The man hit the wall, recovered with shocking speed, smashed through the window glass leading to the fire escape, and vanished into the blinding snowstorm outside.
"Officer down in the hallway!" Miller yelled into his radio, before rushing to the bed. "Clara! Clara, are you hit?!"
Clara was hyperventilating, her hospital gown soaked in sweat, her hands clutching her stomach where the baby was kicking furiously.
"Miller..." Clara sobbed, grabbing the detective’s heavy coat. "They tried to kill us... Evelyn... she sent someone to kill my baby..."
"You're safe now," Miller said, his hands shaking with fury as he checked her pulse. "I've got three units downstairs. But Clara... you have to tell me where Mara went. She’s not at the front desk. She’s not with CPS. Where is your sister?!"
Clara looked at the shattered window, at the snow blowing into the sterile room.
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"She's in the basement," Clara cried, tears streaming down her bruised face. "She went back for Julianne. Miller... they're going to burn her alive at midnight!"
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