Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Leo ripped the IV line from Vincent's arm.
The nurse screamed.
Vincent staggered, and I caught his shoulder before he hit the floor.
“Get him back to the bedroom,” I said.
Leo looked at me.
“What's in the bag?”
“I don't know.”
“Can you identify it?”
“Not without a lab.”
Dr. Gable hurried over.
He examined the bag.
“This isn't from our pharmacy.”
Leo turned toward the nurses.
“Who brought it?”
Nobody answered.
Then one nurse began crying.
“I didn't see anyone.”
Leo's face hardened.
Vincent suddenly spoke.
“Don't blame her.”
Everyone looked at him.
He was breathing hard.
“She's telling the truth.”
“How do you know?”
Vincent pointed toward the ceiling.
“Camera.”
Leo looked up.
The security camera above the hall had been turned away from the doorway.
Someone had physically moved it.
Not disabled.
Moved.
I stared at it.
“Whoever did this knew your security system.”
Leo nodded.
“Someone inside the house.”
The words landed heavily.
I thought about the twelve doctors.
The nurses.
The guards.
The staff.
Anyone could have accessed Vincent's room.
Then I remembered Dr. Price.
Her black coat.
Her missing medical case.
The bracelet.
“Dr. Price,” I said.
Leo looked at me.
“The pearl bracelet.”
“What about it?”
“She was wearing one this morning.”
I described it.
Leo immediately called one of his men.
“Find her.”
Twenty minutes later, they found her in a parked car two blocks away.
She didn't resist.
She simply sat behind the steering wheel with both hands resting on the dashboard.
When Leo opened the door, she looked at him.
“I was wondering how long it would take.”
She was brought back to the mansion.
Vincent insisted on being present.
Dr. Price stood across from him.
She looked exhausted.
“You're alive.”
Vincent replied, “Because she noticed what you missed.”
Dr. Price looked at me.
There was no contempt in her eyes.
Only shame.
“I didn't miss it.”
Leo stepped forward.
“Then explain.”
Dr. Price looked at Vincent.
“I was told your condition was supposed to deteriorate.”
“By whom?”
She hesitated.
“Marcus Hale.”
The room went silent.
I asked, “He's alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
Leo's voice became colder.
“That's convenient.”
Dr. Price shook her head.
“I never met him.”
“Then how did you receive his instructions?”
She looked down.
“Letters.”
“Letters?”
“Typed instructions. Delivered through hospital administration.”
Vincent frowned.
“Why would you obey them?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because my son was involved.”
Leo stopped.
Dr. Price explained that her twenty-two-year-old son had made a terrible mistake with the wrong people.
“They told me he would disappear if I refused.”
Vincent stared at her.
“And you agreed to poison me?”
“No.”
Her answer came immediately.
“I thought I was controlling the damage.”
She explained that she had been instructed to use medications that would make Vincent appear to be suffering from complications after surgery.
She had been told no one would know.
But she had become frightened when his condition worsened.
“I started leaving things out,” she admitted. “Small delays. Incorrect doses. Things that would make another doctor question the plan.”
I looked at her.
“But you didn't stop it.”
She lowered her head.
“No.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“That makes you part of it.”
“I know.”
For the first time, I saw something unexpected in Vincent.
Not mercy.
But restraint.
“Where is your son?”
“I don't know.”
“Who has him?”
She shook her head.
“They never gave me a name.”
Leo looked at me.
I suddenly remembered something.
The photograph.
The date.
My father's name.
“Wait.”
I turned toward the library.
“There's something else.”
Inside the library, I searched through the photograph again.
The man standing beside Vincent was Marcus Hale.
But behind them was a bookshelf.
On the shelf sat a small wooden box.
I had seen that box before.
In my father's apartment.
After his death.
I had assumed it contained old receipts.
My hands began shaking.
I told Vincent.
He immediately said, “Describe it.”
“Dark wood. Brass corners. A small carved bird on top.”
Vincent went completely still.
“That box belonged to my father.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“My father gave it to Daniel Mercer.”
My father's name.
Again.
Leo looked between us.
“Why?”
Vincent's face tightened.
“Because Daniel saved my life once.”
I couldn't breathe.
“My father?”
Vincent nodded.
“Before you were born.”
“Then why did he owe you money?”
“He didn't.”
I stared at him.
Vincent stepped closer.
“Your father worked for my family.”
“As what?”
“He was an accountant.”
Leo looked confused.
“An accountant?”
Vincent nodded.
“He discovered someone was stealing from us.”
“Who?”
Vincent didn't answer.
Instead, he walked toward a cabinet.
He opened it.
Inside was an old black-and-white photograph.
He handed it to me.
My father was standing beside Vincent's father.
Both men were smiling.
And on my father's wrist was a silver watch.
The same watch.
I turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting on the back.
I recognized my father's handwriting immediately.
If they ever come for my daughter, give her the red book.
My hands went numb.
I looked at Vincent.
“What red book?”
Before he could answer, Leo's phone rang.
He listened for three seconds.
Then his face changed.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“They found Dr. Price's son.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“Where?”
Leo looked at me.
“In the trunk of a car.”
He paused.
“Alive.”
Relief crossed Dr. Price's face.
Then Leo finished the sentence.
“But someone left something beside him.”
May you like
“What?”
“A red book.”
