Chapter 8 - THE MAN WHO PAID TO KEEP ME IN A CHAIR
Fourteen years.
One payment each month.
Warren Hayes had been paid to maintain my condition.
Not treat it.
The amount increased whenever I requested a new specialist.
Decreased when I stopped asking questions.
My resignation from hope had saved Elliot money.
That thought nearly made me laugh.
Nearly.
Then we found a second payment category.
C.D. CONTROL
Claire Delaney.
Megan’s mother.
Money paid to private investigators who tracked her.
Not payments to Claire.
Payments to monitor her.
Then:
M.F. STATUS
Megan.
For twenty years, Elliot had tracked her too.
Schools.
Jobs.
Addresses.
Marriage.
Child.
Megan stared at Noah sleeping in a playpen.
“He knew about my son.”
“Yes.”
“Before I came here.”
“Yes.”
She turned toward me.
“Then how did I get hired?”
Nobody spoke.
Nancy looked sick.
“I received Megan’s application from the agency.”
Marcus said:
“I approved background.”
Megan’s face hardened.
“Who recommended the agency?”
Nancy thought.
Then:
“Mr. Elliot.”
Of course.
He put Megan inside my house.
Why?
The ledger page.
Maybe he believed Claire had hidden evidence with her daughter.
He wanted her close.
Searchable.
Observable.
Disposable.
But something went wrong.
Megan became close to me.
Stayed during the fever.
Stopped Hayes.
Changed the plan.
Then Marcus found an email from Elliot to Hayes.
Six weeks earlier.
Day Megan started.
Subject entered house. Confirm whether Claire transferred evidence. If not, use her proximity to D.M.
Use her proximity.
For what?
The next email answered.
If Dominic becomes emotionally compromised, remove both.
Megan stared.
“Emotionally compromised?”
Nancy looked between us.
I ignored her.
Megan did not.
“Do not make that face.”
“What face?”
“The billionaire-mafia-boss face where you pretend feelings are a security breach.”
I almost smiled.
Again.
Unfortunate.
Then Marcus received a location.
Elliot.
Back in Atlanta.
Why return?
Because he had one more asset.
My father’s old warehouse records.
We moved first.
Police and federal investigators went to the site.
I stayed.
Megan stayed.
She did not like that.
Neither did I.
But risk was not bravery.
Sometimes staying out was smarter.
Then my phone rang.
Elliot.
“Dominic.”
“Uncle.”
“You found the ledger.”
“Yes.”
“You were always slower than your father.”
“You were always less clever than you thought.”
Silence.
Then he laughed.
“What does the maid know?”
Megan heard.
I looked at her.
“Enough.”
Elliot’s tone changed.
“Put her on.”
“No.”
Megan held out her hand.
I frowned.
She raised her eyebrow.
Choice.
Right.
I gave her the phone.
She said:
“Hello?”
Elliot was silent.
Then:
“You sound like Claire.”
Megan’s face changed.
“You knew my mother.”
“Yes.”
“You terrorized her.”
“She made choices.”
Megan’s voice hardened.
“So did you.”
Elliot laughed.
Then said:
“She never told you the biggest one.”
Megan looked at me.
“What?”
“Claire wasn’t hiding evidence from me.”
Pause.
“She was hiding a child.”
Megan went pale.
May you like
Elliot continued:
“And it wasn’t you.”
