Chapter 8 - The Legal Cage
The confrontation stalled as Lawson’s dispatch radio erupted with frantic squawks from county headquarters, confirming federal warrants. The sheriff slowly backed down, his deputies lowering their weapons in sullen submission.
Within two hours, Arthur had secured a private suite on the top floor of St. Michael’s Children's Hospital in the neighboring city, guarded round-the-clock by twelve Sterling private contractors.
Blair lay propped up in a white hospital bed, an IV line taped to her tiny wrist. She was bathed, dressed in soft cotton pajamas, and clutching a plush brown bear that Arthur’s assistants had procured from a 24-hour boutique. Despite the comfort, she wouldn't sleep. Every time the door clicked, her shoulders flinched toward her ears.
""Grandpa?"" she whispered, testing the word as if it were made of thin glass.
Arthur sat in the bedside armchair, leaning close so she wouldn't have to strain. ""Yes, darling.""
""Will she come back with the crate?""
""Never,"" Arthur said, holding her small hand between his two palms. ""I swear on your mother's memory. No one will ever cage you again.""
The door opened softly, and Clara entered, wearing a fresh civilian jacket over her bandaged shoulder. She carried an encrypted tablet. ""Mr. Sterling, we have a problem. Judge Caldwell just issued an emergency injunction from the bench. He’s classified Blair as a ward of the state and ordered municipal police to take custody of her by dawn for 'protective sheltering.'""
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Arthur didn't move a muscle, but the air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. ""Caldwell thinks his gavel reaches above my head.""
""He has jurisdictional priority until Monday morning,"" Clara warned. ""If you cross state lines with her before then, it’s federal parental kidnapping.""
