The twins were safe with Ben’s aunt.
Rosie insisted on coming.
“I’m done letting other people decide what I deserve to know,” she said quietly.
No one argued.
The hospital appeared through the morning fog like a ghost.
Broken windows.
Rusted ambulance bay.
Overgrown weeds pushing through cracked concrete.
Yellow demolition machines waited behind a chain-link fence.
Workers were already unloading equipment.
A large sign stood near the entrance.
DEMOLITION BEGINS — 8:00 A.M.
Ben checked his watch.
6:11 A.M.
Less than two hours.
A security guard stepped in front of us.
“I’m sorry. This property is closed.”
Eleanor showed him a folder.
“We’re looking for evidence connected to a decades-old maternity investigation.”
The guard barely glanced at it.
“I don’t care if you’re looking for Elvis.”
“Nobody goes inside.”
Rosie stepped forward.
“My name is Rosie Carter.”
The guard looked confused.
“I was born here.”
“I may have been taken home by the wrong family.”
The man blinked.
For several seconds…
He said nothing.
Then he slowly removed the keys from his belt.
“My wife…”
He whispered.
“She was born here too.”
He unlocked the gate.
“You have one hour.”
The building smelled of mold and dust.
Every footstep echoed through empty hallways.
Paint peeled from the walls.
Old wheelchairs sat abandoned beneath torn ceiling tiles.
It felt less like a hospital…
And more like time had simply stopped.
Eleanor unfolded the basement map.
“The locker room should be downstairs.”
We hurried toward a staircase.
Halfway down…
A loud metallic crash echoed above us.
Everyone froze.
Ben looked up.
“The demolition crew.”
“They’ve started removing the roof.”
The basement was darker than the rest of the building.
Our phone flashlights barely cut through the darkness.
Room numbers had faded years ago.
Finally…
Ben stopped.
“There.”
A rusted metal sign hung crookedly above an open doorway.
EMPLOYEE LOCKER ROOM
Hundreds of lockers still stood inside.
