Chương 5
She took her daughter’s cold hand.
“Mr. Moretti and I knew each other before he became who he is now.”
“He was already himself,” Lily said.
The sentence was so strange and accurate that Bell looked away.
Elena swallowed. “We were together once. For a little while.”
“Were you married?”
“No.”
“Did he leave?”
“I left.”
“Why?”
Elena glanced toward the library doors.
Because Adrian’s father had been indicted. Because two men had been shot outside a restaurant where Adrian was supposed to meet them. Because Adrian had come to her apartment at two in the morning with blood on his cuff and asked her to trust him without explaining anything. Because she had been twenty-three and already understood that loving a dangerous man did not make his danger romantic.
“I was afraid,” she said.
“Of him?”
“Yes.”
Lily absorbed that without blinking.
Bell turned the recorder back on only after Elena nodded.
The official questions resumed. Where had Lily been? What had she seen? Had Elena told her anything about Adrian’s illness? Had Elena touched the bottles, the tea cup, the cash, the jewelry box? Had she entered Vanessa’s room? Did she have access to the bedroom?
Elena answered carefully.
Lily corrected her twice.
At the hospital, Adrian regained full consciousness beneath fluorescent light.
His first clear memory was of a nurse telling Cole to step away from the medication cart. His second was the pressure of a blood cuff around his arm. His third was Vanessa’s voice in the bedroom accusing Elena of filling a child’s head with lies.
The amber bottle came after that.
So did the ring box.
“Where is she?” he asked.
Dr. Harris sat in a plastic chair near the window. “Which one?”
Adrian turned his head.
The doctor looked worse than he had in the mansion. Without the bedside lamp and tailored surroundings, he appeared not distinguished but old. There was dried rain on his shoes.
“Vanessa,” Adrian said.
“Being questioned.”
“Elena?”
“Also being questioned.”
“The child?”
“With her mother.”
Adrian looked toward the door. “Cole.”
“He’s outside.”
“Bring him in.”
“No.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
Dr. Harris folded his arms. “This is a hospital, not your house. Security has limited access, the police have the bottles, and you are not leaving tonight.”
“What did they find?”
“Nothing definitive yet. Your initial screen doesn’t test for every possible substance. They’re sending samples to a specialized laboratory.”
“How long?”
“Longer than you’ll like.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“We know you’re dehydrated. Your kidneys are under stress. Your heart rhythm has been unstable, though it’s improving. We do not know whether those things were caused by a toxin, an interaction, an illness, or all three.”
“You said poison.”
“I said possible poisoning.”
“You said my symptoms no longer made sense.”
“They still don’t.”
Adrian watched him.
Dr. Harris rubbed both hands over his face. “There are things I should have done sooner.”
“Yes.”
“I should have insisted on admission.”
“Yes.”
“I should have questioned why you worsened after periods of improvement.”
Adrian said nothing.
The doctor lowered his hands. “Vanessa controlled most of what you ate and drank.”
“She took care of me.”
“She took control of your care.”
The distinction remained between them.
Adrian looked at the IV tubing taped to his hand. “Did you give her access to medication?”
“No.”
“Did she ask?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“Four days ago. She said you were restless and wanted something to help you sleep. I refused.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were confused. She was your fiancée. I had no reason to treat the request as criminal.”
“You had a reason to write it down.”
“I did.”
“Where?”
“In my notes.”
“Paper?”
“Electronic.”
“Who has access?”
“My staff and the hospital system.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
Dr. Harris gave him a tired look. “Not every record is an enemy.”
“Every record belongs to someone.”
“That may be true in your life. It is not supposed to be true in medicine.”
“And yet here you are, regretting what you failed to record.”
The physician leaned back. “You make it very difficult to feel sorry for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“No. You pay people so you never have to ask.”
Adrian turned toward the dark window.
From the ninth floor, the lake was invisible beyond the rain. Only the reflections of hospital lights moved against the glass. He could hear a cart rattling in the corridor and a patient coughing behind a wall.
He hated hospitals. Not from fear of death, though he had never believed men who claimed they were not afraid of that. He hated the surrender of ordinary decisions. Someone else chose when he ate, when he slept, who entered, what he wore, and whether the door stayed open.
He had spent his life making sure no one else held those choices.
Now poison moved through his blood, and the police had taken evidence from his bedroom.
“Call my uncle,” he said.
“He has called seven times.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
“Bring Cole.”
“Still no.”
Adrian looked at him.
Dr. Harris met his stare. “I spent twelve days mistaking your poisoning for illness because everyone around you is trained to obey. I’m trying something different.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Adrian asked, “Did the girl say anything else?”
Dr. Harris looked toward the door.
That hesitation gave him away.
“What?”
“It isn’t mine to tell you.”
Adrian’s voice lowered. “What did she say?”
“She did not say it.”
“Elena?”
The doctor stood. “Rest.”
Adrian reached across the bed and caught his sleeve.
The movement was weaker than either man expected. Dr. Harris could have pulled free. He did not.
“Is Lily my daughter?”
The doctor’s face answered before his mouth did.
Adrian released him.
Dr. Harris sat again.
“She told the detective you don’t know,” he said.
May you like
Adrian stared at the ceiling.
The room’s ventilation hummed. Somewhere in the hall, a woman laughed too loudly at something a nurse said, then apologized. A machine dispensed ice into a plastic pitcher.
