Proof of a Failed Escape

VANESSA

My heart nearly burst from my chest when I heard the heavy footsteps approaching. Three sets of boots, stomping with purpose down the hallway. They were coming for the scheduled check. And Fabian was still gone.

I glanced frantically at the small lump I'd created on the cot—pillows and blankets arranged in the shape of a sleeping child. It had seemed like a desperate but necessary deception when I sent him through the vent, but now it looked pathetically obvious. No one would be fooled.

"Fabian," I whispered urgently to the empty room. "Please, baby..."

The footsteps grew louder. My palms were slick with sweat. I'd only managed to send him through the ventilation system an hour ago. There was no way he could have found help that quickly, even if he'd escaped the building.

A loud metallic clang from the vent made me jump. I spun around as the grate pushed outward, revealing Fabian's small, dirt-streaked face.

"Mom!" he whispered, eyes wide with panic.