Chapter 7 - The Hostage Video
The sterile hospital room began to spin violently around me.
"If Diane is on that plane alone, then where is my baby?" I screamed, trying to rip the IV lines out of my arms.
Detective Reynolds gently pushed me back down onto the bed, urging me to remain calm.
"We believe Mark has the child and is using her as leverage to negotiate his own escape," she explained quietly.
Suddenly, my personal cell phone buzzed loudly on the hospital tray table.
The caller ID displayed a completely restricted, unknown number.
I answered the call with trembling hands and put it on speakerphone so the detective could hear.
"You are much harder to kill than I anticipated, Sarah," Mark's sinister voice echoed through the room.
"Where is Daisy?" I demanded, fighting back a rising tide of panic.
"She is right here with me, getting very hungry," he mocked cruelly.
He sent a live video link directly to my text messages, forcing me to open it immediately.
The screen displayed Mark sitting in a dark, damp basement, holding a crying Daisy tightly against his chest.
"I need you to wire the entire trust fund balance into an offshore account within the next sixty minutes," he demanded.
"If the money doesn't clear, I will leave her in this basement and simply disappear forever."
Detective Reynolds frantically signaled to her technical team in the hallway to start tracing the digital signal.
"I cannot authorize a transfer that large without going to the bank in person," I lied desperately, trying to buy more time.
Mark laughed, a cold, hollow sound that made my skin crawl.
"Do not play games with me, Sarah, I know your father set up a digital emergency release protocol."
The technical officer rushed into the room and handed the detective a piece of paper.
The detective nodded at me, silently indicating that they had successfully pinpointed his exact location.
"I will transfer the money, just please don't hurt her," I begged, crying authentic tears of terror.
"You have fifty-nine minutes left," Mark warned before abruptly ending the connection.
Detective Reynolds pulled her weapon and looked at me with fierce determination.
"He is hiding in the abandoned textile factory on the edge of the city," she stated.
I ripped the IV from my arm, completely ignoring the sharp pain and the bleeding.
"I am coming with you," I demanded, refusing to take no for an answer.
The detective hesitated but finally nodded, knowing a mother's instinct could not be stopped.
We raced through the city streets in an unmarked police cruiser, sirens wailing loudly.
We arrived at the decaying factory just as a massive thunderstorm began to roll in.
We kicked open the rusted metal doors and stepped into the pitch-black, echoing warehouse.
"Mark, we know you are in here!" Detective Reynolds shouted into the darkness.
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A single, brilliant spotlight suddenly snapped on, illuminating the center of the vast room.
Daisy's car seat was sitting directly under the light, completely unattended.
