Chapter 3 - THE WATCH IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Leo stared at the photograph as though it had become something alive.
I couldn't stop looking at the silver watch on Marcus Hale's wrist.
It was old-fashioned.
Round face.
Black leather strap.
One small scratch across the glass.
Nothing about it seemed important.
Yet Leo looked terrified.
“Who took this?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“It was pushed under the door.”
“I know that.”
He turned toward Dr. Gable.
“Did you know Hale was alive?”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear I'm not.”
Leo grabbed the front of his coat.
“Four years ago, you signed the death certificate.”
Dr. Gable's face tightened.
“I signed what I was given.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“I was told he died during surgery.”
Leo released him.
I picked up the photograph.
There was another detail.
Vincent was wearing a dark coat.
The same coat he had worn during the winter charity dinner three years earlier.
I remembered seeing photographs from that night in the hallway.
But there was something else.
A woman stood blurred in the background.
She was wearing a pearl bracelet.
I knew that bracelet.
I'd seen it that morning.
On one of the doctors.
Not Dr. Gable.
Dr. Helena Price.
I looked toward the door.
“Where is Dr. Price?”
Leo immediately turned.
She was gone.
One of his men checked the hallway.
“She left five minutes ago.”
Leo's expression changed.
“Find her.”
The bedroom doors opened and men moved through the mansion.
I followed before anyone could stop me.
Dr. Price's medical case was missing.
So was her coat.
A black wool coat hung beside the side entrance.
The pocket was empty.
But on the floor beneath it sat a silver watch.
My breath caught.
“That's the watch.”
Leo looked down.
The second hand was moving.
He picked it up carefully.
“Don't touch it,” I said.
He froze.
“What?”
“The photograph.”
I pointed at the watch.
“Look at the scratch.”
It was identical.
Leo stared at me.
Then the watch suddenly began vibrating.
A tiny mechanical sound came from inside.
Leo dropped it onto the floor.
A second later, the back cover popped open.
Inside was not a battery.
There was a tiny folded piece of paper.
Leo unfolded it.
Three words were written there.
ROOM 417. TONIGHT.
Dr. Gable stared at it.
“What is room 417?”
Nobody answered.
Then Vincent's voice came from the hallway.
“Where is the watch?”
We turned.
He was standing there.
Barely.
Two nurses supported him.
His face was gray, but his eyes were clear.
Leo rushed toward him.
“You shouldn't be out of bed.”
“Where's the watch?”
Leo held it up.
Vincent stared at it.
His expression wasn't fear.
It was recognition.
“Where did you get that?”
“It was left by the back door.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
“Marcus.”
I looked at him.
“You know he's alive.”
Vincent opened his eyes.
“I know he shouldn't be.”
That sentence chilled me.
Leo demanded, “What happened four years ago?”
Vincent leaned against the wall.
“Marcus Hale wasn't killed.”
“Then why did you let everyone believe he was?”
Vincent looked at me.
“Because he was the only doctor I trusted.”
I frowned.
“Then why would he try to kill you?”
“He didn't.”
Leo stepped closer.
“Someone is using his name.”
Vincent nodded.
“And someone is using mine.”
That was when we heard a crash downstairs.
A gunshot followed.
Everyone froze.
Leo immediately moved in front of Vincent.
Men ran toward the staircase.
Another shot.
Then another.
Vincent grabbed my wrist.
His hand was cold.
“Stay behind me.”
I stared at him.
“You can barely stand.”
He gave me a faint smile.
“Still better than you.”
We reached the main hall.
A man was running through the foyer.
Not a doctor.
Not security.
He wore a dark wool coat.
And on his wrist was the same silver watch.
Leo raised his weapon.
“STOP!”
The man turned.
For half a second, I saw his face.
Older than the photograph.
Tired.
Afraid.
Not the face of someone enjoying what he was doing.
He looked directly at me.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“Your father knew.”
I stopped.
The man disappeared through the service corridor.
Leo's men chased him.
But I couldn't move.
“My father?”
Vincent looked at me.
His expression had changed completely.
“You never told me your father's name.”
I swallowed.
“Daniel.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“Daniel Carter?”
“No.”
“Daniel Mercer?”
“No.”
I said my father's full name.
Vincent went silent.
Leo looked at him.
“Boss?”
Vincent stared at me.
Then he whispered,
“Your father wasn't gambling with forty thousand dollars.”
I felt the room tilt.
“What are you saying?”
Vincent looked toward the corridor where the stranger had vanished.
“He was being paid.”
“By whom?”
Vincent's answer came quietly.
“To keep me alive.”
Before I could process it, a nurse came running from upstairs.
“Mr. Carter!”
Vincent turned.
“Your monitor is alarming.”
He looked down.
The cardiac monitor clipped to his portable unit was flashing red.
I stepped closer.
The rhythm was abnormal again.
I looked at the IV.
A clear fluid was running.
I touched the bag.
There was no label.
My heart dropped.
“Stop that infusion.”
The nurse stared at me.
Then Vincent looked at the bag.
May you like
And his face went pale.
“That's not mine.”
