The day after I gave birth to my twins, they were stolen from me. I spent two years searching for th…
Chapter 2
I screamed so loudly the maternity director came running.
“Lock the hospital down!”
People stared at me as if I were insane. I didn’t care. I searched under beds, inside bathrooms, behind curtains, even though reason told me newborn twins could not simply disappear into a cabinet.
“It was Linda,” I said. “She took them.”
Linda appeared near the far corridor, eyes wide.
“What?”
I crossed the room and slapped her.
“Where are my babies?”
She staggered back, clutching her cheek.
“Your children are missing and you’re blaming me?”
Mothers who had defended her only hours earlier shrank away.
Security rushed in. Someone ordered the elevators stopped. Doors were locked. Patients waiting for discharge began shouting.
Linda started crying.
“Everyone saw me helping her. She hasn’t slept. She just had surgery.”
A young doctor looked at me sternly. “Mrs. Sterling, accusations require evidence.”
“The old man.”
“What old man?”
“The one who pulled the nurse away.”
The nurse who had helped him suddenly turned white.
“He wasn’t a patient.”
Everyone looked at her.
“I thought he was visiting someone. He said he felt dizzy.”
“How long were you gone?”
“Maybe two minutes.”
Two minutes.
That was all Linda had needed in my first life too.
My vision blurred.
Then strong hands caught my shoulders.
“Sarah.”
I looked up.
Arthur.
He still wore his uniform. His face was harder than I remembered, older than the young officer I had married, but fear was unmistakable in his eyes.
I grabbed his wrist.
“Someone stole our babies.”
For one instant, he simply stared at me.
“Our?”
“Twins. Yours.”
He looked toward the empty bassinets.
Something changed in him.
He turned to the soldiers behind him.
“Seal every exit. Nobody leaves.”
His lieutenant hesitated only long enough to ask, “Including staff?”
“Everyone.”
Arthur faced Linda.
Her tears immediately softened.
“Commander Sterling, I don’t even know this woman. She attacked me. I was trying to help.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed.
“How do you know who I am?”
Linda froze.
Only for a second.
“Your soldier said—”
“He said Commander Sterling. He didn’t say my first name.”
Color drained from her face.
I pointed at her.
“She knows your unit. She knows my name. She has been asking whether your family knows I’m here.”
Linda shook her head furiously.
“She’s confused. She’s exhausted.”
“You watched my children’s name cards.”
“I was being friendly.”
“You called my son my daughter.”
“I made a mistake!”
“You asked exactly how alone I was.”
Her tears stopped.
Arthur looked toward his lieutenant.
“Search everything. Service halls. Loading bays. Laundry rooms. Trash carts.”
The words escaped me before I could stop them.
“Laundry.”
Arthur turned.
My heart hammered.
“Check the laundry route. She didn’t take them through the front door last time.”
Silence fell.
Linda’s eyes widened.
Arthur heard the words too.
Last time.
But he did not demand an explanation.
He simply said, “Do it.”
The soldiers ran.
I tried to follow.
Pain ripped across my abdomen.
Arthur caught me before I fell.
“I have to go.”
“You’ll tear your incision open.”
“They’re cold.”
His grip gentled.
“We’ll find them.”
Linda started sobbing again.
“Why are you treating me like a criminal?”
Arthur looked at her.
“My newborn children are missing.”
That shut her up.
A nurse brought a wheelchair. I hated sitting in it, but the moment I did, my entire body started shaking.
Minutes passed.
Then came a shout from downstairs.
“Found a cart!”
I tried to stand.
Arthur pushed the wheelchair himself.
At the end of a service corridor, a gray laundry cart stood sideways beside a freight elevator. Sheets were piled over it.
The supposedly elderly man lay facedown on the floor with a soldier restraining him. His white wig had slipped sideways.
He wasn’t old at all.
A doctor pulled away the sheets.
A faint cry rose from underneath.
My son.
Then I saw my daughter.
She was too quiet.
Her lips were bluish.
“No.”
A nurse lifted her carefully.
“She has a pulse.”
I reached forward, but my arms were shaking too badly.
Arthur knelt beside me.
“I’ll carry them.”
He lifted our son first, awkward and terrified, supporting the tiny neck exactly as the nurse instructed. Then he placed him against my chest.
My boy cried harder.
Good.
Cry.
Cry until the whole world hears you.
My daughter came next, wrapped in heated blankets. Her breath was shallow, but it was there.
I bent over both babies and sobbed.
They were alive.
This time, I had found them before forty years could pass.
Back in the maternity ward, the twins were warmed and monitored. Arthur remained between my bed and the door.
Linda was brought past under guard.
Then security opened her suitcase.
Beneath the clothes lay a hidden stack of papers.
Forged military dependent forms.
My name.
Sarah Miller.
Spouse: Commander Arthur Sterling.
Children: newborn twins.
There was also a route map to Arthur’s base, a bus ticket, two handmade baby blankets, and a written story.
My husband abandoned me during pregnancy. I have come to him with his children.
Arthur read it once.
Then again.
His face turned cold.
Linda hadn’t merely planned to steal my babies.
She had planned to steal me.
