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"Mr Shaw..." the woman on the other end of the phone began, sorrow clear in her voice.
Albert's heart sank. He had a feeling like he knew what words were about to float into his ear.
"Mr Shaw," the woman repeated like she was trying to steel herself, "I have some bad news."
"Something's come up," The Grabber informed the boy as he slammed the tray onto the floor, "I'll be gone for a few days," he stated, narrowed eyes daring the boy to open his mouth and question him once again.
And, of course he did.
He always did.
The Grabber hated it.
Finney's brow furrowed, gulping before he opened his mouth and repeated the word many boys had asked before him, "Why?" He whispered into the cool air surrounding them.
Immediately The Grabber's eyes darkened, "Never mind why," he growled out, fingers twitching by his side.
"It's about your mother."
He couldn't punish the boy, he knew that.
"I'm sorry."
The boy hadn't done anything to deserve it. Yet.
But he would. The Grabber knew he would.
After all, they always did.
It was inevitable.
For many weeks, Albert had toured the different facilities which could house his ailing mother. The nursing home he now sat outside of was one of the last ones he visited before he made his decision and signed the papers all those years ago.
Albert signed, dropping his hands from the steering wheel as he glanced towards the large building in front of him.
The building that his mother had spent the last years of her life in.
"I don't want to go, Al," his mother whispered, her calloused hand cupping her son's cheek as she tried to get him to meet her gaze, "Don't make me go, Al," she begged.
Albert slipped his eyes closed, knowing what he needed to do.
For her.
Without him.
Slap
"You're no son of mine," she hissed, raising her hand to deliver another–
"Mr Shaw?"
Albert blinked, gaze sweeping towards the woman now standing outside the vehicle. A woman he recognized.
"We'll take care of your mother, Mr Shaw," the woman reassured the guilt-ridden man walking next to her.
The woman who was probably with his mother when she took her last breath.
Albert rubbed a hand over his face as he walked along the hallways, trying to push away the emotions that had been bubbling up inside of him since he received that phone call.
"I didn't raise a sissy," the man stated, not even sparing his sniveling son another glance, "Now stop your crying, boy," he hissed, voice promising pain if the boy did not follow his order.
He was a man now. He couldn't cry. He couldn't–
"...breaking news about The Galesburg Grabber–"
Unconsciously, Albert's feet halted in their movements as his heart skipped a beat.
Breaking news? About The Grabber– about Albert?
"Mr Shaw?"
What did they know?
Albert's mind began to whirl as he his head snapped towards the direction of that familiar voice that often filled his living room at night.
Albert smirked at the news reporter's words, knowing they would never find the latest missing boy.
They would never find him .
"Mr Shaw?" The nurse repeated, a small furrow appearing in her brow as she took another step towards the distracted and slightly panicked man.
It was like the man didn't even hear her as he began walking towards the communal area of the facility.
"Mr Shaw?" The nurse once again repeated the man's name like she was hoping to break him out of whatever trace he had seemingly been placed under.
But, she failed.
The television in the communal area called out to Albert, luring him towards it with the promise to answer all of the man's questions.
And it did.
But a part of Albert wished that it didn't.
"Mr Shaw?" The nurse once again repeated, laying a gentle hand on the man's broad shoulder in an attempt to gain his attention.
When the man let out a shuddering breath, she momentarily thought she had succeeded.
But when Albert opened his mouth and uttered the heart-stopping sentence, she knew she had failed.
Because he was only reacting the the news. The news that–
"That's my brother," Albert breathed out as he stared at the small television screen in shock as the news reporter's distant voice that declared the end of the infamous Galesburg Grabber that haunted Denver filled the air.
Max's frozen carefree face smiled back at his brother.
But Albert eyes were glued to the text announcing his death.
Announcing the death of The Grabber.
"I'm sorry for your loss," the nurse paused, biting her lip as she corrected herself, "Losses."
"The Galesburg Grabber was killed in a standoff with the local police."
Albert cleared his throat, "I need to go."
"The Galesburg Grabber's latest victim, Finney Blake, was shot in the crossfire."
"Of course, Mr Shaw," the nurse nodded her head in understanding, "But your mother–"
"I need to go," Albert took one last look at what was once his mother's bedroom, "Now."
"Finney Blake is alive and in surgery..."
Albert turned the engine off, gazing up at the hospital that held the boy he hadn't yet finished playing his game with.
The hospital that held the boy that survived a bullet when his beloved brother didn't.
Albert's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he wondered how this happened. How his brother was named The Grabber and shot and killed instead of him.
But, he knew that soon he would be able to get the answers to his question. He knew he would have those answers when he had the boy in his clutches again.
And The Grabber would have the boy again. Because they had unfinished business together.
Entering the hospital was easy. Too easy.
Nobody stopped him or gave him a second glance as he walked through the hallways.
After all, nobody knew that they should.
Everybody thought that The Grabber had been stopped when those bullets pierced his flesh. Nobody knew that The Grabber was in their midst and about to continue his reign of terror on Denver.
Nobody would know that the police had made a mistake until it was too late.
Albert glanced down at the body of the doctor, snatching the badge away from the cooling corpse at his feet.
The dead doctor's white coat was too small for Albert. But Albert didn't have time to wait to pounce on a doctor with the same body type.
After all, he didn't know how much time he had until the police realized their mistake.
But thankfully, Albert and the woman sitting behind the reception desk had pointedly decided to ignore the ripped seam of the white coat Albert now donned.
The woman looked up from the documents, "Finney Blake is out of surgery now, doctor," she informed the unfamiliar doctor standing in front of her.
Albert nodded, lips twitching, "What room is he in?" He casually asked.
There were no police officers standing guard outside the hospital room when he arrived.
Albert smiled, knowing that the police had incorrectly assumed that the boy didn't need protection because the threat had been eliminated.
But inside the hospital room sat a tired nurse.
A tired nurse who was confused when the unknown doctor walked into the room.
"The anesthesia hadn't worn off yet," the nurse hesitantly informed the man, "He's still under."
Albert nodded his head at the nurse's words, but his eyes remained glued to the boy on the bed.
He looked so... different in that hospital bed surrounded by various machines.
He looked... vulnerable.
Albert didn't stop the excitement bubbling up inside of him as he gazed at the boy. But he knew that he needed to get them out of here before it was too late.
Albert reached into the pocket of the doctor's white coat, wrapping his fingers around the scissors.
He knew what he needed to do.
Effortlessly, Albert scooped the boy into his arms.
Unsurprisingly, Finney was lighter than he was the first time Albert had carried him into his basement that was supposed to be where he took his last breath.
Albert absentmindedly wondered if he should have fed the boy more but quickly dismissed the thought.
After all, he had learned the hard way that it was best to weaken the boys he kept in the basement with hunger.
Albert dabbed at the blood dripping from his broken nose, vowing to make Vance Hopper pay for what he did.
Albert glanced at the boy's face, a part of him expecting to find the boy struggling to open his eyes as he slowly became conscious.
But the boy's face was still, almost peaceful, as the anesthesia kept him unconscious and unable to alert anybody of the danger he was in.
As Albert wheeled the unconscious boy through the hallways, he really thought that he would be stopped. But he wasn't.
People barely spared Albert or the boy, whose face was on every newspaper and news channel in the state, a glance. Albert briefly wondered if people even realized the boy in the wheelchair was the same boy whose name would now never be forgotten.
Or maybe the news didn't travel as fast as Albert thought.
But it did. Of course it did.
Because there was Terrence Blake and a young girl that Albert knew was Finney's sister talking to the woman sitting behind the reception desk.
Albert gulped but continued pushing the wheelchair, one hand reaching to dip the boy's head towards his chest so that his oily hair obscured his face from his family's watery gazes.
"Where is my son?" Terrence asked, voice slightly raspy as he pleaded with the woman to give him the information he needed.
Albert glanced at the two members of the Blake family, shoulders sagging in relief as he realized that they were only focused on the woman sitting behind the reception desk.
Thankfully, they hadn't noticed the supposed doctor pushing his unconscious patient through the hospital.
But if they did notice, like the other people in the hospital, Albert hoped that they wouldn't recognize the boy as their missing family member.
Hopefully–
A small groan slipped past the boy's lips, making Albert's heart stop as he felt a pair of eyes land on him.
Oh, Shit.