Chương 13
A woman at the club finally answered Daniel's call.
He gave her my father's name.
His expression shifted.
"When?"
He listened.
"Did he say where he was going?"
Another pause.
"Okay."
He ended the call.
"What?"
I asked.
"Your father never arrived."
My pulse kicked.
Owen was already calling the household driver.
The answer came quickly.
He looked at me.
"He dismissed the driver at seven forty."
"Why?"
"Said he had another ride."
"With whom?"
"The driver didn't see."
I stood.
The blanket fell from my lap.
Daniel stopped breathing.
For one second, nobody moved.
Then his eyes dropped to my legs.
He looked back at my face.
I had imagined this reveal dozens of times.
Vanessa dropping a glass.
Martin turning white.
The entire board discovering how badly they had misjudged me.
I had imagined satisfaction.
Instead Daniel looked as though I had struck him.
"You can walk."
His voice barely existed.
I stepped away from the chair.
"Daniel—"
"You can fucking walk."
Owen closed the library door.
Daniel backed away from me.
"How long?"
"Since the accident."
His face emptied.
"What?"
"I wasn't paralyzed."
He stared.
"You lied."
"Yes."
"To everyone?"
"Almost."
"To me?"
"Yes."
He laughed once, but it broke halfway through.
"I sat in that rehab room and couldn't look at you because I thought your life was over."
"I know."
"No, you don't."
He pointed at the chair.
"You don't get to say that."
I said nothing.
Daniel's eyes were wet now, which made him angrier.
"My daughter made you a card."
"I kept it."
"Don't."
He wiped his face hard with one hand.
"Don't make that sentimental."
"I'm not."
"You let me think you couldn't walk."
"Because somebody was moving against me."
"So you tested us."
There was the word again.
This time I could not deny it.
"Yes."
Daniel stared at me for several seconds.
Then he picked up his coat.
"Where are you going?"
"To find Richard."
"I need you here."
He stopped at the door and looked back.
"No."
The word was quiet.
"You need people you haven't spent a month deceiving."
He opened the door.
Then he paused.
"Monday can burn for all I care."
He looked at the wheelchair once more.
"But if your father is sick, that's real."
Then he left me standing beside the chair I had used to measure everyone else's loyalty.
I stood there long enough for Owen to look uncomfortable.
That was rare enough to make me notice.
"You should go after him," he said.
"Daniel?"
"Your father."
I picked up my phone.
"Any location data?"
"His phone is off."
"Car?"
"He didn't take one registered to the house."
"Credit cards?"
"Not without calling the bank, and that becomes a different kind of problem."
I paced toward the window.
For weeks I had been congratulating myself on how carefully I had controlled the board, the household, the flow of information, even the movement of my own body.
Now my father had vanished in the middle of it.
"Call his cardiologist."
"I already did."
"And?"
"He missed an appointment Thursday."
I turned.
"What appointment?"
"Follow-up."
"He didn't tell me."
Owen said nothing.
That silence was almost insulting.
Of course he had not told me.
I had taught everyone around me that weakness became data.
My phone rang.
Vanessa.
I answered immediately.
"Where is my father?"
There was a pause.
"What?"
"Do you know where he is?"
"No."
"Think."
"Adrian, what happened?"
"He didn't go to the club."
Her voice sharpened.
"Call Martin."
"No."
Something in the way she said it stopped me.
"Why?"
"Because Martin picked your father up this morning."
My hand went cold around the phone.
"How do you know?"
"I saw them."
"Where?"
"Outside my mother's house."
"What were they doing there?"
"My father and Martin had breakfast scheduled."
"Your father?"
"Yes."
I looked at Owen.
He was already listening.
"When?"
"Eight."
"What did Richard look like?"
"Bad."
"Define bad."
"Gray."
That word again.
"He was sweating even though it wasn't warm."
"Why didn't you call me?"
Vanessa hesitated.
"Because he told me not to."
I closed my eyes.
"Where did Martin take him?"
"I don't know."
"Vanessa."
"I don't."
Her voice cracked.
"He said he was taking him somewhere quiet before Monday."
"Somewhere quiet."
"That's what he said."
Owen was typing into his tablet.
I spoke into the phone.
"Stay where you are."
"Don't tell me what to—"
"I can walk."
Silence.
I heard traffic behind her.
Then nothing.
"Vanessa?"
"You what?"
"I can walk."
Another pause.
A much longer one.
"Oh my God."
"I lied about the paralysis."
"You lied."
"Yes."
"To me."
"Yes."
She laughed once, breathlessly.
Then she hung up.
I stared at the phone.
Owen did not comment.
That was mercy.
He found Martin's vehicle through the residential gate log.
"Black Range Rover left at eight twelve."
"Can we track it?"
"Not legally through the manufacturer without consent."
"Then cameras."
"Working."
It took twenty-two minutes.
Municipal traffic feeds gave us nothing useful, but a private plate-recognition system used by one of Owen's contractors caught the vehicle heading north.
Then another camera placed it near St. Vincent Medical Center.
I was out the door before Owen finished the sentence.
At the hospital, I forgot the wheelchair.
There was no calculated reveal.
No audience.
No revenge.
I walked through the emergency entrance while a nurse pushed past me with a supply cart and Owen argued with security about where Martin's SUV had been parked.
The woman at the desk refused to give me information.
"I'm his son."
"I understand."
"Then tell me whether he's here."
"I can't confirm a patient without authorization."
I nearly became the version of myself everyone expected.
The man who could turn inconvenience into intimidation.
Instead I put both hands on the counter.
"My father has a cardiac history and may have come in this morning with his brother."
The nurse looked at me.
"What is his name?"
"Richard Cole."
May you like
She typed something.
Her expression changed.
