Part 11
“You weren’t there yet.”
“What happened?”
“He fell against the desk.”
Nathaniel examined his father. “Were you hurt?”
Arthur lifted his right shoulder slightly.
Evelyn continued, “I helped him back into the chair. He struck me.”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
“With your hand,” Evelyn said quickly. “Not hard. You were frightened.”
Claire looked at Arthur. “Did you hit her?”
His right hand trembled.
One blink.
Nathaniel stood slowly.
Evelyn touched her cheek, though no mark remained. “That is why I covered the camera. I was ashamed for him.”
“Or for you,” Claire said.
Evelyn’s eyes flashed. “I did not hit him.”
“Then why threaten me?”
“Because when you arrived, you decided what you were looking at.”
“What was I looking at?”
“Arthur crying. Papers on the floor. Me holding his wrists because he was trying to tear out his catheter line.”
Claire’s face tightened. “He doesn’t have a catheter.”
“He did last Thursday morning.”
Claire shook her head. “It was removed Wednesday.”
Evelyn froze.
Nathaniel watched the correction land.
Claire stepped forward. “There was no catheter line.”
“I meant his monitor.”
“He wasn’t wearing a monitor.”
“He had the wrist sensor.”
“That cannot be torn out.”
Evelyn looked toward Arthur.
He watched her with exhausted clarity.
Nathaniel said, “What were you holding?”
Evelyn did not answer.
Claire’s voice softened, which made it more dangerous. “His hand?”
Evelyn looked at her.
“Were you forcing him to sign last Thursday too?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I was trying to stop him from destroying the statements.”
“Why?”
“Because they were evidence.”
“Evidence you hid?”
“I kept them safe.”
“Where are they?”
“In the west suite.”
Nathaniel stepped into the corridor. “Show me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll take them.”
“Yes.”
“They are the only leverage I have.”
“Against whom?”
Her gaze settled on him.
Nathaniel understood.
“Against me.”
“Against the board. Against anyone involved.”
“Why not copy them?”
“They were already copies.”
“Then the originals exist.”
“Unless someone has removed them.”
“Where did Dad get them?”
Evelyn pressed her lips together.
Arthur tapped the wheelchair arm.
Nathaniel turned.
His father pointed toward the photograph again.
“The frame?” Nathaniel asked.
Arthur blinked twice.
“Not the frame.”
Arthur pointed lower, toward the ceramic pill dish.
Claire approached the nightstand. “This?”
He blinked twice.
His finger moved toward the drawer.
Nathaniel opened it.
Inside lay a book of lake maps, three pencils, a magnifying glass, and a black flash drive.
Evelyn inhaled.
Nathaniel picked it up.
“Is this what you were looking for?”
She stared at the drive.
“No.”
The answer came too late.
“What’s on it?”
“I don’t know.”
Arthur made a low sound that might have been contempt.
Claire looked at Nathaniel. “Your father asked me to put it there yesterday.”
Nathaniel turned. “You knew?”
“I knew it was a flash drive. I didn’t know what was on it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He asked me not to.”
“And you followed that request?”
“Yes.”
“He may lack capacity.”
“He knew what the object was, where he wanted it, and that he did not want Mrs. Mercer to have it.”
Evelyn took one step into the room.
Arthur recoiled.
Nathaniel closed his hand around the drive.
“Out.”
“I need to see it.”
“No.”
“If it contains trust records, I have a fiduciary right.”
“You just said it wasn’t what you were looking for.”
“I said I didn’t know what was on it.”
“You reacted before I asked.”
“Nathaniel—”
“Out.”
His voice remained low.
Evelyn stared at him, then at Arthur. The fear on her face returned, deeper than before. Not fear of the camera now. Fear of whatever the drive might prove.
She backed into the corridor.
Nathaniel followed and pulled the door until only a narrow opening remained.
Claire stayed with Arthur.
The flash drive pressed into Nathaniel’s palm.
“Where can I open this?” he asked.
Evelyn shook her head. “Don’t.”
“You’ve said that twice tonight.”
“Because you do not understand what you are opening.”
“That argument is finished.”
“It may contain private medical information.”
“Does it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Financial records?”
“I don’t know.”
“Video?”
Her face changed.
Nathaniel saw it.
“What video?”
Evelyn looked toward the hallway camera.
“The corridor feed is cloud stored,” Nathaniel said. “The drive isn’t needed.”
“There are other cameras.”
“No. I refused interior cameras anywhere else.”
“You refused connected cameras.”
Nathaniel stared.
“What does that mean?”
Evelyn closed her eyes briefly. “Arthur installed one in the library.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“For what?”
“To record meetings after he began forgetting details.”
Nathaniel knew nothing about it.
“Where?”
“In the clock.”
The library mantel held an antique brass clock that had belonged to Arthur’s father. Nathaniel had seen it thousands of times.
“Who knew?”
“Arthur. Me. Now Claire, apparently.”
Claire spoke from the room. “I did not know.”
Evelyn ignored her. “If that drive came from the clock, it may contain private conversations.”
“Including last Thursday?”
“Yes.”
Nathaniel looked at the flash drive.
The hidden hallway recording on his phone had already contradicted Evelyn’s explanation of tonight. A second recording might contradict more—or might reveal that Evelyn’s suspicion of him had grounds.
He felt the temptation to delay.
It came disguised as fairness. Arthur needed rest. Claire needed medical attention. Evelyn needed time to calm down. The drive could wait until morning.
Delay had been his preferred form of cowardice for years. It allowed him to believe he remained neutral while other people absorbed the consequences.
He put the flash drive into his pocket beside the phone.
Evelyn exhaled.
“I’m not opening it on a house computer.”
Her relief vanished.
“I’ll preserve it as it is.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“No.”
The word stood between them without decoration.
She looked toward Arthur’s door. “Does he?”
Nathaniel did not answer for his father.
Evelyn rubbed her bare arms. The corridor’s temperature had not changed, but she seemed cold.
“I want my robe.”
“Tell me where it is. I’ll bring it.”
May you like
“You expect me to let you search my room?”
“I expect you not to enter Dad’s.”
