Chapter 2 - THE BOARD MEMBERS WHO NEVER LEFT
Beatrice ordered me into a dark green dress with a high collar.
The fabric covered the bruises around my neck, but nothing could completely hide the cut above my eyebrow. She pressed my hair across it and told me not to look directly at anyone.
“Grief,” she said. “If they ask, your childhood friend died.”
Vance stood behind me, fastening a diamond necklace around my throat.
The necklace had belonged to his first wife, Celeste.
According to the family, Celeste died in a private skiing accident eight years before I met him.
Vance never spoke about her.
Beatrice kept Celeste’s portrait in the upstairs gallery but turned it toward the wall whenever I entered.
That evening, as the clasp closed against my skin, I noticed something carved into the back of the pendant.
Three letters.
C.H.S.
Celeste Hawthorne Sinclair.
A strange surname for a woman supposedly born Celeste Moore.
Before I could examine it, Vance gripped my shoulders.
“If you signal anyone, your brother dies first.”
“You don’t know where Marcus is.”
“We know more than you think.”
The dining room filled with eleven board members. They were wealthy, polished people who controlled hospitals, nursing facilities, insurance contracts, and charitable trusts across three states.
Chairman Roland Collier sat at the head of the table.
He looked at my injury and raised one eyebrow.
Vance answered before he asked.
“Sarah fainted in the bathroom.”
Collier studied the blood beneath my fingernails.
“Did she?”
Beatrice poured wine.
“Stress.”
Nobody expressed concern.
That told me the board members had seen injuries in this house before.
I served soup while their conversation shifted toward the merger. They discussed occupancy rates, reimbursement schedules, and “problem families” who challenged guardianship decisions.
One woman laughed about a daughter who had spent two years trying to remove her mother from a Hawthorne facility.
“The poor woman died before the hearing,” she said.
Arthur smiled.
“Timing solves most disputes.”
The recorder in the fob was gone beneath the bathroom vanity, but Marcus had told me the audio stream would continue after the second click until the device lost power or was destroyed.
Every word might still be transmitting.
If the Hawthornes had not crushed it.
I carried the bread basket toward Collier.
He reached for a roll and quietly asked, “Did Marcus send you?”
I nearly dropped the basket.
His expression remained neutral.
“Don’t react,” he whispered.
Then he asked loudly, “Is this sourdough?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.”
Collier was working with the government.
Or pretending to.
I returned to the kitchen, where Beatrice waited.
“What did he say?”
“He asked about the bread.”
She searched my face.
Then the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The third flicker lasted three seconds.
Marcus had taught me the signal during our final meeting.
Power interruption meant the perimeter was secured.
They were close.
Arthur entered through the service door carrying a handgun beneath his jacket.
“The security system lost its external connection.”
Vance’s face tightened.
“Storm?”
“There is no storm.”
Beatrice looked toward the dining room.
“Move Collier first.”
My stomach dropped.
They knew.
Vance walked back to the table and announced that the merger documents were ready in the library. While the board members stood, Arthur took Collier by the arm.
Collier resisted.
A gun appeared beneath Arthur’s napkin.
Everyone saw it.
Nobody screamed.
Three board members stepped away from Collier.
The others moved toward the windows.
They were not all conspirators.
Some were frightened participants.
Some were targets.
Beatrice locked the dining-room doors.
“The federal government has developed an unhealthy interest in our family,” she said calmly. “Until we identify who cooperated, nobody leaves.”
Collier looked at me.
Vance noticed.
He crossed the room and struck me in front of everyone.
My head snapped sideways.
“This is the informant,” he said.
One board member, Dr. Helen Park, stood abruptly.
“She needs medical attention.”
“She needs discipline,” Beatrice replied.
Helen stared at her.
“You said the domestic incidents were exaggerated.”
Beatrice smiled.
“Sit down, Doctor.”
Helen did not.
Arthur pointed the gun at her.
That ended the debate.
Vance dragged me toward the eastern hallway. Collier followed under Arthur’s weapon. Beatrice ordered two security guards to bring Helen too.
We descended a narrow staircase beneath the gallery.
At the bottom stood the wine-cellar door.
Beatrice inserted the silver key.
Cold air moved across my face.
Beyond the first room of shelves was another steel door.
Vance entered a code.
Inside were six hospital beds.
Five were occupied.
An elderly man lay sedated beneath a blanket.
A middle-aged woman stared at the ceiling with restraints around her wrists.
Another man wore a hospital bracelet from a facility in Vermont.
The fourth patient was Celeste.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
Her eyes moved toward Vance.
“You came back,” she whispered.
Vance struck her before she could say more.
I screamed.
He turned toward me with the same hand raised.
Collier stepped between us.
“You have enough evidence already,” he said loudly.
Arthur hit him with the gun.
Collier collapsed.
Helen rushed to him.
Celeste stared at my necklace.
“That’s mine.”
Beatrice entered behind us and locked the steel door.
“The merger was supposed to solve this problem,” she said. “Now we will solve it permanently.”
She held up a syringe case.
The patients were not being moved.
They were being prepared to die.
Above us, music continued playing in the dining room.
Then the entire house went dark.
Not a flicker this time.
A complete blackout.
From somewhere beyond the cellar walls came three violent impacts.
May you like
Federal breaching charges.
Marcus had arrived.
