Chapter 2 - THE GIRL WHO WOULD ONLY HOLD MY HAND
The ambulance doors closed with Harlan Voss standing outside them.
For half a second, I assumed the most feared man in Detroit had changed his mind.
Then he climbed into the ambulance after us.
One of the paramedics immediately protested.
“Sir, there isn’t room for—”
“He’s her father,” I said.
The words sounded absurd coming from me.
Harlan looked at me.
Not grateful.
Not angry.
Just surprised that I had defended his presence.
Belle still held my hand.
Her fingers were so cold I could barely feel them.
The paramedic placed oxygen beneath her nose while another connected electrodes to her chest. The monitor began producing a rhythm I did not understand, but I understood the expression on the medic’s face.
Concern.
Harlan understood too.
“What’s her heart rate?”
“Sir, let us work.”
“What is it?”
“One forty-eight.”
Harlan’s jaw tightened.
“She has restrictive cardiomyopathy.”
The medic looked up.
“History of arrhythmia?”
“Yes.”
“Medication?”
Harlan listed three drugs from memory, including dosages and timing.
That surprised me.
He did not sound like a powerful man delegating his daughter’s care to employees.
He sounded like a father who had memorized every bottle because missing one mattered.
“When was her last dose?” the medic asked.
Harlan’s face changed.
“She should have received it at eight.”
Belle opened her eyes weakly.
“No.”
Harlan leaned toward her.
“What, sweetheart?”
Her lips moved.
“No medicine.”
His expression went completely still.
“What do you mean?”
Belle swallowed painfully.
“Dr. Price said… later.”
Harlan looked at the paramedic.
Then at me.
Then back to Belle.
“Where was Dr. Price?”
“Home.”
“Did he take you out?”
Her eyes filled with terror.
She shook her head.
“Belle.”
Harlan’s voice softened.
“You are not in trouble.”
She tightened her grip around my fingers.
I said:
“You don’t have to tell anybody right now.”
Harlan looked at me.
For a moment, I expected him to object.
Instead he sat back.
“Okay.”
That one word told me something important.
Whatever kind of man Harlan Voss was outside that ambulance, Belle came first inside it.
We reached Detroit Children’s Hospital twelve minutes later.
The emergency entrance became chaos.
A pediatric cardiologist was waiting.
So were security officers.
Not Harlan’s.
Hospital.
His men remained outside after hospital administration made it clear nobody carrying weapons was coming into the pediatric unit.
I expected an argument.
Harlan removed his pistol and handed it to the man he called Elias.
No scene.
No threat.
“Stay outside.”
Elias Kane was perhaps forty, dark-haired, built like a boxer, and had been the first of Harlan’s men to reach for Belle in the garage.
He did not look happy.
“Harlan.”
“Outside.”
Elias nodded.
That surprised me too.
Belle was rushed behind double doors.
Her fingers finally slipped out of mine.
The sudden absence of her hand felt wrong.
Harlan walked after the stretcher.
A nurse stopped him.
“We’ll come get you.”
“I’m her father.”
“I know.”
“I’m going with her.”
“Not while we stabilize her.”
He looked ready to become exactly the man Detroit whispered about.
Then the nurse said:
“If you scare my staff, you will waste time your daughter may not have.”
Harlan stopped.
The nurse walked away.
I almost smiled.
Apparently pediatric nurses were the only people in Detroit more terrifying than mafia bosses.
Harlan turned toward me.
“You.”
I froze.
“My name is Rue.”
“I know.”
“You made a point of memorizing it.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Then:
“Sit.”
“I’m not your employee.”
“No.”
He looked toward a chair.
“You’re shaking.”
I realized I was.
My coat was still wrapped around Belle.
I wore only my waitress uniform beneath a cheap sweater.
The garage cold had followed me into my bones.
Harlan removed his suit jacket.
Held it out.
I stared.
“No.”
“Take it.”
“No.”
“It is not a marriage proposal.”
Despite everything, a laugh escaped me.
His face changed.
Barely.
Maybe he had not expected that.
I took the jacket.
It probably cost more than three months of my rent.
That made me want to give it back immediately.
Instead I wrapped it around my shoulders.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Then looked toward the emergency doors.
Silence lasted maybe thirty seconds.
Then he asked:
“What did you see?”
“Belle.”
“Before her.”
“Nothing.”
“Cars?”
“No.”
“People?”
“No.”
“Any sound?”
“Just coughing.”
“Was her phone beside her?”
“In her coat pocket.”
“One shoe missing?”
“Yes.”
“Any blood?”
“No.”
“Anything tied around her wrists?”
“No.”
He breathed through his nose.
Questions.
Control.
He was trying to turn terror into information.
I understood that.
I did the same thing with bills.
My eviction notice sat inside my purse.
Three days.
That morning, I had believed losing my apartment was the worst thing that could happen this week.
Perspective can be cruel.
The cardiologist came twenty-three minutes later.
“Harlan.”
He stood before she finished his name.
Dr. Miriam Patel looked to be in her fifties.
She clearly knew him already.
“Belle is stable.”
Harlan’s shoulders dropped one inch.
Maybe two.
“She was hypothermic and significantly dehydrated.”
“How bad?”
“Core temperature was thirty-four Celsius on arrival.”
I did not know the number.
Harlan did.
His face tightened.
“Arrhythmia?”
“Short run during transport. Controlled now.”
“Heart failure?”
“Not acute failure.”
He closed his eyes.
One second.
Then:
“Medication levels?”
“We’re checking.”
Dr. Patel’s expression changed.
“There is something concerning.”
Of course.
“What?”
“Her bloodstream shows traces of a sedative.”
Harlan became frighteningly quiet.
“What sedative?”
“Low-dose benzodiazepine.”
“What?”
“She was given something that would make her sleepy.”
“How much?”
“Not lethal by itself.”
“In a child with her condition?”
“Potentially dangerous.”
His hand curled.
“Who prescribed it?”
“We don’t know that anyone did.”
Silence.
Dr. Patel continued.
“Her heart medication level is also lower than expected.”
Harlan stared.
“Meaning?”
“She may have missed more than tonight’s dose.”
“How many?”
“We need pharmacy records and trends.”
His face changed.
Not anger.
Memory.
“How long?”
“Harlan.”
“How long could someone underdose her before it showed?”
“Depending on the medication and amount, days or weeks.”
I watched the realization hit him.
Belle’s kidnapping might not have started tonight.
Someone could have been making her vulnerable before taking her.
He turned toward the entrance.
“Elias.”
The man appeared almost instantly from behind the security line.
Harlan said:
“Lock the estate.”
Elias nodded.
“Nobody leaves.”
Another nod.
“Dr. Nolan Price.”
“Already missing.”
Everything stopped.
Harlan stared.
“What?”
“His car is gone.”
“When?”
“Security shows him leaving at ten thirteen.”
“Belle disappeared when?”
“Her nanny noticed at ten twenty-six.”
“Who was on gate?”
“Reed and Bowman.”
“Where are they?”
“Held.”
“Alive?”
Elias looked offended.
“Yes.”
Harlan looked at him.
“Keep it that way.”
The fact he needed to say that reminded me who these men were.
Dr. Patel looked between them.
“I’m going to pretend this conversation is outside my professional scope.”
Then she turned toward me.
“Rue?”
“Yes?”
“Belle keeps asking for you.”
I stared.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Harlan looked at me.
Something unreadable crossed his face.
I followed Dr. Patel.
Belle lay inside a pediatric cardiac room beneath heated blankets.
Pink had returned slightly to her cheeks.
Monitors surrounded her.
Her missing shoe was gone entirely.
Someone had put warm hospital socks on both feet.
She looked impossibly small.
The moment she saw me, her eyes filled.
“Rue.”
I walked over.
“Hey.”
“You came.”
“You told me not to leave.”
“I did?”
“Sort of.”
She lifted her hand.
I took it.
Harlan stood on the opposite side of the bed.
“Belle.”
She looked at him.
“Daddy.”
“I’m here.”
“Are you mad?”
The question destroyed him.
I saw it.
“No.”
His voice broke.
“Never at you.”
She looked toward the door.
“Is Uncle Julian here?”
Harlan stopped breathing.
I noticed.
So did Dr. Patel.
“No.”
Harlan answered carefully.
“Why?”
Belle’s eyes filled.
“He said…”
She stopped.
Harlan did not push.
Good.
I rubbed her fingers.
“What did he say, sweetheart?”
She looked at me instead of her father.
“Uncle Julian said Daddy was hurt.”
Harlan became completely still.
“He told me Dr. Price was taking me to Daddy.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did you see Uncle Julian tonight?”
Belle nodded.
“Where?”
“At home.”
“What room?”
“The library.”
Harlan’s face changed.
Julian was someone important.
Someone impossible.
Belle continued:
“He hugged me.”
Her voice weakened.
“Then Dr. Price gave me the sleepy medicine.”
Harlan gripped the bedrail.
“What happened after?”
Belle’s breathing became faster.
Dr. Patel stepped in.
“That’s enough.”
Harlan immediately stopped.
No argument.
Belle closed her eyes.
“I woke up in the car.”
A pause.
“Dr. Price was crying.”
Harlan stared.
“Did Julian come with you?”
She shook her head.
“Who left you in the garage?”
Belle’s face tightened in fear.
Dr. Patel started to intervene again.
Then Belle whispered:
“Dr. Price.”
Harlan looked almost relieved.
A doctor.
A missing employee.
A problem he could understand.
Then Belle opened her eyes.
“But he said he was sorry.”
Her little fingers squeezed mine.
“He said he had to do what Uncle Julian told him because Uncle Julian would hurt his son.”
Silence.
Harlan’s relief vanished.
“Belle.”
Dr. Patel warned.
But the child was already speaking.
“Uncle Julian said I couldn’t turn seven.”
Harlan stopped breathing.
So did I.
“Why?”
Belle whispered.
“I don’t know.”
Her eyes closed.
“I just heard him tell Dr. Price.”
Then she fell asleep.
The monitor continued steadily.
Harlan stood beside his daughter for a long time.
Finally he looked at me.
“Belle turns seven in forty-three days.”
I said nothing.
His face had become pale.
“There is a trust.”
“What kind?”
“My wife created it before she died.”
The words came reluctantly.
“Belle inherits voting control of part of Voss Transportation on her seventh birthday.”
I stared.
“How much?”
“Enough to change who controls my legitimate companies if something happens to me.”
“And Julian?”
“My half-brother.”
There it was.
Harlan looked toward the sleeping child.
“He has spent six years telling everyone Belle is the closest thing he will ever have to a daughter.”
May you like
His voice turned cold.
“And tonight she told me he tried to make sure she never reaches seven.”
