Chương 4
Ethan becoming increasingly interested in Carter House’s cash position.
Vanessa urging Madison to schedule her procedure before the quarterly board meeting because she was “already exhausted.”
At the time, none of those things had touched.
Now they seemed to reach for one another across the room.
Bishop stood.
“Ms. Hale, I’m going to ask you to remain here while we determine whether we have grounds to detain you.”
Vanessa gave her a thin smile.
“You just did.”
“I asked.”
“I’m saying no.”
She uncrossed her legs and stood.
Rachel moved nearer Madison.
A uniformed officer stepped between Vanessa and the door.
Vanessa looked at him.
“Am I under arrest?”
Bishop did not answer immediately.
That pause seemed to irritate Vanessa more than an accusation would have.
“We are investigating evidence of forgery involving a medical consent form, unauthorized access to electronic medical records, and potentially fraudulent insurance documents. We have security footage showing you entering a restricted records room with another person connected to those documents. For now, you are being detained while we secure the location and clarify the evidence.”
Vanessa’s face changed.
Only slightly.
Madison had known her long enough to see when she was scared.
It happened around the mouth first.
“You have no idea what that footage shows.”
Bishop nodded.
“That may be true.”
“It shows Ethan giving me an envelope.”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t illegal.”
“Also true.”
Vanessa looked at Madison.
For a second, something passed between them that felt almost like the old friendship.
Not affection.
Recognition.
Vanessa knew Madison would understand the calculation she was making.
Say nothing now.
Do not improve the case against yourself.
Do not explain what can still be disputed.
Madison had heard Vanessa give that advice to executives for years.
Apparently Vanessa intended to take it herself.
The police separated everyone.
Vanessa was moved into the small dining room with an officer.
Elena sat with Cho near the windows to explain how she had found the consent discrepancy. Bishop spoke with Rachel.
Madison was left alone for perhaps four minutes.
She hated them for it.
Then she hated herself for wanting somebody to stay.
She reached for the handheld mirror.
Her face looked unfamiliar, but not because anyone had transformed it. White bandages covered her jaw and lower cheeks. Her eyelids were slightly swollen from anesthesia. Her lips looked dry.
She turned the mirror slightly.
There she was.
Not the altered image on Elena’s tablet.
Not whatever Vanessa had meant by her.
Madison.
For most of her adult life, people had told her she was beautiful in ways that never felt like information. Beauty had functioned more like a commercial asset other people insisted she possessed. Investors mentioned her “camera presence.” Clients recognized her from interviews. Marketing consultants once suggested she appear more often in brand photography because customer conversion improved when she did.
Madison hated those conversations.
She had also benefited from them.
Both could be true.
The old injury she was correcting came from a car accident when she was nineteen. Her jaw had healed slightly unevenly. Almost no one noticed it. Madison noticed it every morning.
Ethan had once kissed that side of her face and told her he liked the asymmetry.
Three months later, he had casually forwarded the name of a surgeon.
She put the mirror down.
Rachel returned.
“You should drink.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“I didn’t ask.”
Rachel handed her water with a straw.
Madison drank because arguing required more energy.
“Do you think they were trying to kill me?”
Rachel’s professional expression failed for half a second.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think the altered surgery could have killed me?”
“Any surgery carries risk.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Rachel pulled the chair closer and sat.
“The expanded procedure would have increased the length and complexity significantly. Longer anesthesia carries additional risk. Multiple procedures together can raise risks. But that does not prove anyone intended you to die.”
Madison stared at the window.
“I hate careful people right now.”
“That’s inconvenient. You hired a building full of them.”
Madison looked at her.
Rachel’s mouth twitched.
The laugh that escaped Madison hurt her jaw.
She pressed a hand to the bandage.
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“I’ll note it in your chart.”
“Patient medically unable to tolerate jokes.”
“Patient medically unable to tolerate anything but still insists on standing up.”
Madison almost smiled again.
Then she saw Ethan in her mind, walking down the records-room corridor with the insurance envelope.
The humor vanished.
“Where is my phone?”
Rachel retrieved it from the bedside drawer.
There were thirty-two notifications.
Madison ignored all of them except Ethan’s messages.
His most recent had arrived at 8:12 that morning.
Thinking about you. Landing around noon. Call me when you’re awake. Love you.
Madison read it twice.
“Is he in Los Angeles?”
Rachel did not answer.
Madison opened their location-sharing app.
Ethan’s location was unavailable.
She called him.
It went directly to voicemail.
She called again.
Voicemail.
On the third attempt, Rachel reached over and lowered the phone.
“Madison.”
“I want to hear his voice.”
“I know.”
“I want to know if I can tell.”
“Tell what?”
“If he sounds like someone who thought I’d be dead.”
Rachel’s eyes closed briefly.
“There is no voice that proves that.”
Madison stared at the phone.
“I would know.”
“No,” Rachel said. “You think you would know because the alternative is worse.”
Madison looked at her sharply.
Rachel did not apologize.
The alternative was worse.
The alternative was that Ethan could sound exactly like himself.
He could call her sweetheart. He could ask whether she was nauseated. He could complain that airports ruined coffee. He could tell her to stop checking work email.
And none of it would answer anything.
Detective Bishop returned twenty minutes later and told Madison that the penthouse was being treated as a potential crime scene.
May you like
Madison disliked the phrase so much she nearly laughed.
The penthouse had been designed to look like the opposite of a crime scene.
