Chapter 8 - The Desperate Chase
I screamed so loudly that hospital security came running down the hallway.
I tried to sprint toward the rear exit, but two guards grabbed my arms.
I fought them like a wild animal, crying and begging them to stop Marcus.
They held me back, saying he had provided a valid emergency custody order signed by a judge.
They said their hands were legally tied.
Aunt Susan dropped her coffees on the floor and rushed over to me.
She showed her private investigator license to the guards and demanded they release me.
Once they let me go, Susan dragged me out the front doors to her car.
I was hyperventilating, completely consumed by the terror of losing my child forever.
"He's taking her out of the state," Susan said grimly, starting the engine.
"If he crosses the state line, that corrupt judge's order becomes a federal headache."
I asked her how we could possibly know where he was going.
Susan pulled out a police scanner from her glove compartment.
She said she had friends in the department who owed her favors.
She made a quick phone call, speaking in low, urgent tones.
When she hung up, her face was completely pale.
"Marcus has a private jet waiting at the county airfield," she said.
"They are cleared for takeoff in exactly twenty minutes."
She slammed her foot on the gas pedal, tearing through the snowy streets.
We ran red lights and swerved around slow-moving plows.
The small county airfield came into view just over the next hill.
Through the falling snow, I could see a sleek white jet idling on the tarmac.
The passenger stairs were still lowered to the ground.
Marcus was walking up the steps, holding a bundle of pink blankets in his arms.
My mother was walking right behind him, carrying my diaper bag.
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Susan didn't stop at the security gate.
She drove the station wagon straight through the chain-link fence.
