Chapter 6 - THE EMPTY BED
I spun toward Tanner.
His bed was there.
The blanket was raised.
But the shape beneath it did not move.
Maeve reached it first.
She pulled back the blanket.
A stack of pillows lay beneath.
The bathroom window was open.
My heart stopped.
“Tanner!”
I ran into the hallway.
The restricted-unit doors stood open.
The officer assigned outside the room was slumped in a chair near the nurses’ station.
A nurse checked his pulse.
“He’s breathing.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Maeve pointed toward the elevator panel.
“The service elevator is moving.”
The indicator descended from the sixth floor.
Five.
Four.
Three.
We ran for the stairs.
I reached the ground floor as the service elevator opened.
It was empty.
A child’s hospital bracelet lay on the floor.
Tanner’s name was printed across it.
Maeve picked it up.
“There is blood.”
My knees almost failed.
She examined it more closely.
“Only a smear.”
“It may be from the IV site.”
A security guard approached.
“There was a vehicle at the loading dock.”
“What kind?”
“A private ambulance.”
“Ashbury?”
He nodded.
“It left two minutes ago.”
I grabbed his radio.
“Call the police.”
“Block the roads.”
“Do something.”
Maeve caught my arm.
“Lincoln.”
I looked at her.
She held Tanner’s bracelet beneath the light.
On the back, written in blue ink, were four numbers.
3-1-4-2.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
I knew immediately.
“Tanner and I play chess.”
“That is our emergency code.”
“What does it say?”
“Third letter.”
“First word.”
“Fourth letter.”
“Second word.”
She stared at me.
“That does not help.”
“It will when we find the message.”
We returned to the room.
Nothing seemed disturbed.
Then Maeve noticed the hospital menu on the table.
Four meal options were circled.
Soup.
Apple juice.
Rice.
Milk.
Using Tanner’s code, I took the third letter of soup.
The first letter of apple.
The fourth letter of rice.
The second letter of milk.
U.
A.
E.
I.
It made no sense.
Then I reversed the order, the way Tanner did when he played black.
I.
E.
A.
U.
Maeve picked up the menu.
“Maybe the numbers are not letters.”
I looked at the four circled items again.
Soup was number three on the menu.
Apple juice was number one.
Rice was number four.
Milk was number two.
3-1-4-2.
The same sequence.
“He is telling us to look at the choices themselves.”
Maeve read them aloud.
“Soup.”
“Apple juice.”
“Rice.”
“Milk.”
The first letters spelled S-A-R-M.
I rearranged them.
M-A-R-S.
“Mars,” I said.
Maeve looked confused.
Then I remembered Tanner’s favorite hiding place when he was younger.
The old Mars Observatory outside town.
It had closed three years earlier.
Meredith knew about it.
We had taken Tanner there on our second family outing.
I called Officer Ruiz.
“Send units to the abandoned Mars Observatory.”
“What makes you think he is there?”
“My son told me.”
“How?”
“He left a code.”
“We need more than that.”
“You needed more before searching my house.”
“Now my child is gone.”
I ended the call.
Maeve grabbed her coat.
“We are going.”
The parking garage was nearly empty.
My car sat beneath a flickering light.
As I unlocked it, Maeve stopped.
A small dark bottle rested on the driver’s seat.
It was identical to the one from Tanner’s room.
A note lay beneath it.
May you like
MAEVE DID IT.
Then police lights flooded the garage.
