Chapter 4 - The Key
I grabbed the girls and bolted out of the operating room before he could stand up.
Detective Miller was limping down the hall, his gun raised.
"He's in there!" I yelled, pointing back toward the surgical wing.
Miller rushed forward, but by the time he reached the room, it was empty.
The man had vanished through the emergency fire exit.
"He got away," Miller panted, holstering his weapon in frustration.
"But he dropped something," I said, pointing to the floor.
Lying in the shattered glass was a heavy, rusted ring of antique keys.
Emmy slowly peeked out from behind my legs.
She stared at the iron keys, her face turning pale as snow.
"Those are for the downstairs," she whispered.
"The basement you mentioned earlier?" I asked gently.
She nodded, tears welling up in her large, frightened eyes.
"He has more cages," she said.
"Detective, we have to find out where he lives," I urged.
Miller picked up the keys with a sterile glove and placed them in an evidence bag.
"The security cameras got a partial plate on his truck as he fled," Miller said.
"We just matched it to a foreclosed farmhouse on the edge of the county."
"I'm coming with you," I demanded.
"Absolutely not, it's a tactical police operation," Miller argued.
"Emmy said there are other children in those cages," I fired back.
"They are likely starved, injured, and in shock."
"You need a pediatric trauma doctor on site right now."
Miller stared at me for a long moment before finally nodding.
"You stay in the armored transport until I say it's clear," he commanded.
We arrived at the desolate property an hour later.
The farmhouse was rotting, surrounded by overgrown weeds and rusted cars.
SWAT officers surrounded the perimeter in absolute silence.
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Suddenly, a deafening explosion ripped through the night sky.
The entire farmhouse erupted in a massive ball of orange fire.
