Chapter 4 - THE MAN MY BROTHER HIREDJulian ran.
Not far.
Not intelligently.
But he ran.
The second he saw Thomas Reed's photograph through the glass, he turned away from the hospital room and headed toward the stairwell.
The officer stationed nearby shouted his name.
Julian kept moving.
Three officers caught him one floor down.
When Detective Park brought him back, his expensive white shirt was torn at the shoulder and his lip was bleeding.
I wanted to hit him.
Instead, I asked the harder question.
“Why did you run?”
Julian sat in a chair with his wrists cuffed in front of him.
“Because nobody believes an innocent man who recognizes the hired thug found in the car used to attack his sister-in-law.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I knew how it looked.”
“You hired Reed.”
“Two years ago.”
“You defended him after he assaulted an employee.”
“I defended the company from a lawsuit.”
“You called the employee a liar.”
“I was wrong.”
That admission surprised me.
Julian rarely gave anything away for free.
Detective Park sat opposite him.
“When did you last speak to Thomas Reed?”
“Last year.”
“Specific.”
“November.”
“About?”
“A security consulting job.”
“Who for?”
“My mother.”
I turned.
“What?”
Julian sighed.
“She thought photographers were following her.”
“She has security.”
“She didn’t want yours.”
“And you recommended Reed?”
“Yes.”
“After we fired him?”
“I told you, I was stupid.”
“You were thirty-nine.”
“Stupidity doesn’t expire.”
Park leaned forward.
“Did Margaret Vale hire him?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“She never told me directly. Reed said he was working for her.”
My phone buzzed.
An incoming call from my mother.
I stared at the screen.
Park nodded.
“Answer. Speaker.”
I did.
“Mother.”
“Adrian, these people are behaving like criminals.”
“What people?”
“The police.”
“They’re investigating an attempt to kill my son.”
“Do not be theatrical.”
For a moment, I could not speak.
Julian looked away.
My mother continued.
“They have taken my telephone. They searched my bedroom. One of them opened your father's desk.”
“Did you hire Thomas Reed?”
Silence.
“Mother?”
“Who told you that?”
“So you did.”
“For security.”
“When?”
“Last winter.”
“What did he do for you?”
“Occasional work.”
“Did he come to my house tonight?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“Obviously. I am still here.”
“To Eli’s nursery.”
Another silence.
Longer.
“I checked on my grandson.”
“With Helena's medical bag?”
Julian’s head lifted.
My mother's voice changed.
“Who said that?”
“Sofia.”
“That girl is confused.”
“That girl saved Eli's life.”
“Adrian, she is a maid.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The sentence that defined Margaret Vale more perfectly than any biography ever could.
Not she is wrong.
Not she is lying.
She is a maid.
Therefore truth somehow mattered less when it came from her.
“What did you do with the medical bag?”
“I did not have Helena’s medical bag.”
“Sofia saw you.”
“Sofia saw something blue.”
“How do you know what she saw?”
My mother stopped breathing for half a second.
I heard it.
So did Park.
“Because you just told me.”
“No,” I said. “I said she saw you with Helena's medical bag. I never said what color it was.”
Silence.
Julian mouthed, Jesus.
“Mother?”
“I want my attorney.”
The line disconnected.
Park stood.
“Thank you.”
“Was that enough?”
“To ask better questions.”
I turned toward Julian.
“And Reed?”
He shook his head.
“I didn't send him.”
“How did he know Helena would leave through the east door?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I came here to help her.”
“You arrived seven minutes after she left.”
“Because she called me from the prepaid phone.”
“Show me.”
“Police have it.”
Park nodded.
“We confirmed a call occurred. Duration four minutes, eleven seconds.”
“Contents?”
“No recording.”
Julian leaned back.
“She told me she had found something in Eli’s room.”
“What?”
“She wouldn’t say over the phone.”
“But she told you to come?”
“Yes.”
“Why not call police?”
“She didn’t know if she was imagining it.”
Helena heard that from the doorway.
“I never said that.”
We all turned.
She stood beside an officer.
Her face was exhausted but furious.
Julian frowned.
“You said, ‘Maybe I’m losing my mind.’”
“That was sarcasm.”
“You were whispering.”
“Because somebody was walking outside the nursery!”
Julian went still.
“Who?”
“I didn’t see.”
Park motioned for Helena to sit.
“What had you found?”
Helena looked at me.
“A camera.”
Nobody spoke.
“Where?”
“Inside Eli’s air purifier.”
I felt something cold slide through me.
“There’s already a nursery camera.”
“This one wasn’t ours.”
“Did you remove it?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“I hid it.”
“Where?”
She looked at Park.
“In the blue medical bag.”
Everything connected at once.
My mother had the bag.
Or Sofia said she did.
Helena continued.
“I wanted proof before I accused anyone. So I wrapped the camera in a washcloth, put it in the bag, and locked the bag.”
“Where?”
“In my dressing room.”
“Who had the key?”
“Me.”
“Anyone else?”
She looked at Dr. Cole’s name on Park’s notes.
“Nathan knew where I kept a spare.”
I remembered why.
During the pregnancy, Helena developed severe nausea. Nathan occasionally came to the house. We gave him access to her medical supplies.
“And you didn’t tell me about the hidden camera?” I asked.
Her eyes flashed.
“I tried telling you someone was entering the nursery.”
I looked down.
Fair.
Park asked, “What kind of camera?”
“Tiny. Wireless.”
“Could you tell who installed it?”
“No.”
“Did you access the footage?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“It required a password.”
Park wrote that down.
“Was the camera still in the bag when you left tonight?”
“Yes.”
A knock interrupted us.
Another detective entered carrying a clear evidence pouch.
Inside was a tiny black object.
Helena stood.
“That’s it.”
“Where did you find it?” Park asked.
“Dr. Cole’s car.”
No one moved.
Julian whispered, “Nathan.”
The detective continued.
“Hidden under the spare tire in the trunk.”
Park took the bag.
“Bring Dr. Cole in.”
Nathan arrived thirty minutes later with an attorney.
Of course.
His lawyer was from Dawson & Bright, the same white-collar defense firm that represented half the executives in Massachusetts whenever they suddenly discovered constitutional rights.
Nathan looked at me.
“Adrian.”
I said nothing.
He sat.
Park placed a photograph of the hidden camera on the table.
“Recognize this?”
“No.”
“It was found in your vehicle.”
“That doesn’t make it mine.”
“Recognize Helena Vale’s medical bag?”
“Yes.”
“Did you remove this device from it?”
“No.”
“Did you enter Eli Vale’s nursery shortly before midnight two weeks ago?”
Nathan glanced at his attorney.
“You can answer,” the lawyer said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I heard the baby.”
Helena laughed bitterly.
“He was asleep.”
Nathan looked at her.
“You were exhausted.”
There it was again.
The phrase.
Not mistaken.
Exhausted.
A way of turning facts into symptoms.
Helena leaned across the table.
“You have been telling my husband I’m unstable for months.”
“I have never said unstable.”
“You said anxiety.”
“I said you showed signs of anxiety.”
“Because somebody was spying on my child!”
The lawyer interrupted.
“My client is not here to debate medical terminology.”
Park ignored him.
“Dr. Cole, did you prescribe the medication found on Eli?”
“No.”
“Have you ever prescribed it to anyone in the Vale household?”
“No.”
“Do you use it personally?”
“No.”
“Could you obtain it?”
The lawyer raised a hand.
“We will not answer speculative questions.”
Park nodded.
“Did you speak with Margaret Vale at 1:16 this morning?”
Nathan’s face changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
“Yes.”
“About?”
“She was worried about Eli.”
“The emergency call wasn't placed until 1:31.”
Nathan’s lawyer stopped writing.
Park leaned forward.
“Explain how Margaret Vale knew there was something wrong with Eli fifteen minutes before anyone called 911.”
Nobody spoke.
Nathan swallowed.
“She said he felt cold.”
“So she called you.”
“Yes.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“That infants can lose heat quickly.”
“Did you tell her to warm him?”
Nathan glanced at me.
“Yes.”
Every hair on my arms lifted.
“You told them to warm him?” I asked.
“It was medically reasonable based on the information I had.”
“And the patches?”
“I knew nothing about them.”
Sofia's voice echoed in my memory.
You’re making it worse.
Park looked through her notes.
“Witnesses heard an argument between you and Margaret Vale shortly after she left the nursery.”
Nathan said nothing.
“One witness heard the phrase, ‘He wasn’t supposed to wake.’”
His face drained.
His lawyer immediately stood.
“This interview is over.”
Nathan rose.
I blocked the doorway.
His lawyer snapped, “Move.”
I looked at Nathan.
“Was my son supposed to die?”
“No.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t?”
He looked genuinely afraid.
Not guilty.
Afraid.
I had known Nathan twenty-three years.
I knew his arrogance.
His humor.
His irritation.
His lies.
This was fear.
“Who are you afraid of?”
He whispered, “You should stop asking questions.”
I grabbed his shirt.
Two officers moved toward us.
Nathan’s eyes locked on mine.
Then he said something so quietly only I heard it.
“Your father didn't die the way you think he did.”
I released him.
“What?”
But Nathan's attorney pushed him through the door.
Park followed.
I remained frozen.
My father had died seven years earlier.
Pancreatic cancer.
Aggressive.
Merciless.
At least, that was what we had been told.
Helena came beside me.
“What did he say?”
I turned toward her.
Before I could answer, my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Taken seconds earlier.
Eli.
Inside the ICU.
From somewhere beyond the glass wall.
Below it were six words.
YOUR FATHER WAS THE FIRST WARNING.
May you like
Then another message.
ELI WILL BE THE LAST.
Related Stories
