Seeing My Wife So Pale and Empty, We Went Straight to the Doctor. Out of Nowhere, I Was Escorted into Another Room…
The ER Connection
“Three years ago, I worked an ER shift at Cook County Memorial. A woman came in under police custody—assault charges.”
“She had a surgical scar across her lower left ribs, an old fracture in her left wrist that hadn’t healed properly, and a small compass rose tattoo on her left forearm.”
Dr. Patel turned her phone to face me. The screen showed an old patient photo—a woman with the same bone structure as Sarah, same eyes, different hair.
“That’s not Sarah,” I said automatically.
“No,” Dr. Patel said. “That’s Maya Brennan. She escaped during prisoner transport. They never caught her. And I just saw those exact same markers on your wife.”
Dangerous When Exposed
The room tilted. “That’s impossible. Sarah doesn’t have a scar.”
“Roll up her shirt and check her lower left ribs. I saw it when I listened to her lungs.”
Dr. Patel’s voice was shaking now. “Daniel, listen to me. The bulletin said she was considered dangerous, that she used relationships as cover, that she’d been violent when cornered.”
From down the hall, Sarah’s voice cut through the door. “Daniel? Where are you?”
Dr. Patel’s face went white. “If she realizes I recognized her… if she panics…”
The Rattling Doorknob
The doorknob rattled. “Daniel!”
Dr. Patel shoved me toward a second door I hadn’t noticed. It led to a supply closet.
“Go out through the staff hallway. There’s an exit by the pharmacy. Run!”
“I can’t just—”
“She could hurt you,” Dr. Patel’s eyes were wide. “Or me. Or anyone here. Please!”
The doorknob rattled harder.
Into the Cold
I didn’t think. I moved through the supply closet into a staff hallway that smelled like bleach and stress.
I passed nurses giving me confused looks and went through a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” I burst into the parking lot.
Cold October air hit my lungs like ice water. Behind me, I heard the staff door bang open. Footsteps—fast.
I ducked between two SUVs, pressed myself against cold metal, and pulled out my phone with shaking hands.
A Call to 911
- Three rings. “911, what’s your emergency?”
“My wife—” My voice cracked. I swallowed and tried again.
“A doctor just told me my wife might be an escaped prisoner. I’m at Lakeside Urgent Care on Ogden Avenue. She’s inside. I think she’s dangerous.”
“Sir, are you in immediate danger?”
“I don’t know. I’m hiding in the parking lot. The doctor said—”
I stopped and listened. More footsteps. Slower now, methodical.
Scanning the Lot
I peered through the SUV’s windows. Sarah had emerged from the building, but this wasn’t the withdrawn, hollow woman from the exam room.
Her shoulders were squared. Her head moved in smooth sweeps, scanning the lot.
Her posture was different—confident, alert—like someone who’d done this before.
“Sir,” The dispatcher’s voice pulled me back. “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “She’s outside. She’s looking for me.”
“Police are en route, approximately four minutes. Can you stay hidden?”
“I think so.”
