Chapter 5 - The Clue at the Clinic
Armed with Ava’s description of the blue car and the clinic discharge records, Ethan and his security consultant Thorne drove directly to St. Jude’s community clinic on the near-North Side. The neighborhood was a stark contrast to the gleaming skyscrapers of downtown Chicago—crowded tenements, fading brick facades, and bitter winter winds whistling through narrow alleys. Stepping inside the sterile, crowded waiting room, Ethan felt a heavy pang of remorse realizing Grace had endured years of hardship just blocks away from his corporate empire while he swam in unimaginable wealth. Dr. Evelyn Vance, the clinic’s head physician, recognized Grace’s photograph immediately when Ethan showed it to her. “Grace... yes, poor dear. She came in three weeks ago suffering from severe bronchial pneumonia and extreme physical exhaustion,” Dr. Vance said, her eyes filled with sorrow as she looked at Ethan. “She was working herself to absolute bone-deep ruin trying to afford specialized respiratory medication for a chronic lung condition.” “Where did she go when she left here?” Ethan asked urgently, leaning across the reception counter. “She discharged herself against my strict orders,” Dr. Vance sighed. “She kept mumbling about being a burden, and how someone was hunting her down for debts she didn't owe. She mentioned checking into a charity shelter near the commercial harbor, but when our social worker checked two days later, she wasn't registered under her real name.” Ethan’s heart pounded against his ribs. Someone was hunting her? Debt collectors? Or something far worse? He thanked the doctor, slipped a massive, anonymous philanthropic donation check into the clinic’s funding box, and returned to the car with Thorne. “Harbor district,” Ethan commanded as he slammed the passenger door shut. “Let’s check every abandoned warehouse and temporary shelter along the river.”
