CHAPTER 7: THE CHILD WITHOUT A NAME
Khloe was rushed into emergency surgery.
The impact had caused a placental abruption and severe internal bleeding. Doctors performed an emergency cesarean section while Harrison stood in the hospital corridor with his sister’s blood dried across his hands.
For forty-seven minutes, no one told him anything.
Then a surgeon emerged.
“The baby is alive.”
Harrison’s knees nearly gave out.
“And Khloe?”
“She lost a dangerous amount of blood. We controlled the bleeding, but she hasn’t regained consciousness.”
“Can I see her?”
“Soon.”
The baby weighed four pounds, nine ounces. She lay inside an incubator with a breathing tube and sensors covering her tiny chest.
Harrison placed one finger through the opening.
Her hand closed around it.
“You don’t know me yet,” he whispered. “But I promised your mother I would protect you.”
Behind him, a nurse asked, “Does the baby have a name?”
Harrison looked through the glass at Khloe’s motionless body in the adjoining intensive care unit.
“Not until her mother wakes up.”
Vanessa was arrested before reaching the parking garage. More than twenty witnesses had seen the push, and courthouse cameras captured it from three angles.
Richard claimed he had been too shocked to react.
He told investigators he had tried to stop Vanessa from fleeing.
The audio recording proved otherwise.
Run.
That single word transformed him from a horrified bystander into a possible accomplice.
The district attorney charged Vanessa with aggravated assault, reckless endangerment, and attempted homicide.
Richard was charged with obstruction and witness tampering.
Harrison wanted more.
He returned to his office and opened the copied messages between them.
One conversation had taken place the night before the fall.
Vanessa: She keeps ruining everything.
Richard: The stress could make her go into labor.
Vanessa: And if something happens?
Richard: Then the custody problem solves itself.
Harrison read the messages twice.
He contacted the district attorney.
An hour later, the hospital called.
Khloe had opened her eyes.
Harrison rushed to her bedside.
Her first words were not about Richard or Vanessa.
“My daughter?”
Harrison took her hand.
“She’s fighting.”
Khloe began to cry.
Then a federal agent entered the room carrying a sealed evidence bag.
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Inside was Richard’s second phone.
“We found something,” the agent said. “Something you both need to hear.”
