Chapter 6
The drive to Lake Geneva took forty-three minutes with sirens.
It felt like forty-three years.
Detective Bell rode in front.
My father sat beside me in the back.
Madison stayed at the hospital with Claire and two officers.
Leaving her there hurt.
Bringing her would have been worse.
I stared at my phone the entire ride, waiting for another call.
Nothing came.
That scared me more.
The old Reed recovery center sat behind iron gates and bare trees.
A brick building.
Dark windows.
Too quiet.
Police surrounded the property.
Detective Bell ordered everyone to wait for tactical units.
I opened the car door.
My father grabbed my wrist.
“Amelia.”
“My husband is in there.”
“And Madison needs her mother alive.”
That stopped me.
Barely.
The gates opened from the inside before police cut them.
A man stumbled out wearing scrubs.
Dr. Ellis.
His hands were raised.
His face was pale.
“Don’t shoot!”
Detective Bell moved fast.
“Where is Jonathan Reed?”
Ellis shook.
“She has him downstairs.”
“Who?”
“Eleanor.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
My breath broke.
“For now,” Ellis whispered.
Police cuffed him.
He started talking before anyone asked.
“She said it was only sedation. She said the funeral would control the trust. She said nobody would question a grieving widow and a child.”
My father’s face turned deadly.
“Why did you sign the death certificate?”
Ellis cried.
“She paid my debts. Then she owned me.”
Detective Bell asked, “Downstairs where?”
“Procedure wing. Through the west stairwell.”
Police moved.
I followed until an officer blocked me.
“No civilians.”
I looked at Detective Bell.
She hesitated.
Then said, “Stay behind me.”
We went down the west stairwell.
The air grew colder.
At the bottom, a steel door stood open.
Inside was a room that looked like a private clinic from a nightmare.
White walls.
Metal cabinets.
A hospital bed.
A second door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL.
Jonathan lay on the bed.
Alive.
Pale.
Strapped at the wrists.
Eleanor stood beside him holding a syringe.
“Step away,” Detective Bell shouted.
Eleanor looked at us calmly.
“You are interrupting a medical procedure.”
I pushed past the officer.
“Jonathan!”
His eyelids fluttered.
Eleanor’s face tightened.
“You never did know when to stay in your place.”
“My place is with my husband.”
“Your place was temporary.”
She lifted the syringe slightly.
Detective Bell aimed her weapon.
“Drop it.”
Eleanor smiled.
“If I press this, he will not suffer.”
I could not breathe.
My father stepped beside me.
“Eleanor, you are surrounded.”
She looked at him.
“Thomas Grant. Always theatrical.”
“No,” Dad said. “Thorough.”
Detective Bell spoke into her radio.
“We have the victim. Suspect armed with syringe.”
Eleanor’s eyes moved to me.
“Madison should have stayed in her seat.”
I shook with rage.
“She saved him.”
“She ruined the plan.”
There it was.
Clear.
Cold.
Recorded on every body camera in the room.
Detective Bell’s expression did not change, but I saw her hear it.
Eleanor continued, unraveling now.
“Jonathan was weak. Just like his father. He wanted to hand everything to a child and a woman who married upward.”
I stepped closer.
“My daughter is not a business problem.”
“She is the key to voting control.”
“She is seven.”
“She is Reed blood,” Eleanor snapped. “And blood must be managed.”
Jonathan’s fingers moved against the strap.
His voice came out rough.
“Mother.”
Eleanor froze.
His eyes opened.
“Don’t touch my family.”
For the first time, she looked hurt.
Real hurt.
Then angry because she had felt it.
“You chose them.”
“Yes,” he whispered.
She lifted the syringe.
A shot cracked.
Not from police.
From Detective Bell’s taser.
Eleanor dropped before the syringe reached Jonathan.
Officers rushed in.
I ran to the bed.
My hands fumbled with the straps until an officer cut them.
Jonathan’s hand found mine.
“Madison?”
“Safe.”
His eyes filled.
“She climbed in?”
I sobbed.
“Yes.”
May you like
He tried to smile.
“My brave girl.”
