Chapter 4 - The Hunt in the Storm
The rain lashed against the windshield of my SUV as I sped down Route 9 toward the industrial depot.
The highway was nearly deserted at two in the morning, save for the occasional semi-truck throwing up clouds of blinding mist.
I checked every bus stop along the ten-mile stretch, my headlights cutting through the foggy darkness.
There was nothing.
No sign of a young woman in a beige coat.
I pulled into the gravel parking lot of the South End bus terminal, the neon sign buzzing weakly against the storm.
The waiting room was dingy, smelling of stale coffee and damp cardboard.
Sitting on a cracked plastic bench near the vending machines, hugging a threadbare duffel bag against her chest, sat Emily.
Her dark hair was soaked through, clinging to her hollow cheeks, and her teeth chattered softly from the bitter cold.
When the front door chime rang and she saw me step inside, she shrank back against the wall, her eyes wide with terror.
"Mr. Whitaker... please," she stammered, raising her hands defensively. "I didn't take anything from the house. I swear. I have my bag right here, you can search it—"
I didn't let her finish.
I fell to my knees directly on the dirty linoleum floor in front of her.
Emily froze, her breath catching in her throat as she stared down at the billionaire CEO kneeling in front of her worn sneakers.
"Mr. Whitaker... what are you doing?" she whispered.
"I am begging for your forgiveness," I said, tears finally breaking free and tracking through the rain on my face.
"Zion is alive because of you. The doctors said if you hadn't washed him in that sink, he would have died before midnight."
Emily let out a ragged gasp, pressing a trembling hand over her mouth as fresh tears spilled over her lashes.
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"He's alive?" she choked out. "The baby is okay?"
"He's stable in the pediatric intensive care unit," I said, looking up into her exhausted eyes. "And I am the biggest fool walking this earth."
