Chapter 3
Angela Pierce looked smaller without her confidence.
They brought her into the east library wrapped in a gray blanket from the garage security station. Her blue scrubs were damp. One sleeve was torn. Mascara had streaked under both eyes.
Her red nails shook around a paper cup of water.
Dr. Mercer stood near the fireplace with two guards beside him. He looked ten years older than he had in the great room.
When Angela saw him, she started crying harder.
“I didn’t know they were going to hurt me.”
Mercer’s face went white.
“They?”
I lowered myself into the chair opposite her.
My leg throbbed. My pride hated the chair. My body needed it.
Vincent stood behind me.
Lena stayed by the door with a tablet.
“Start at the beginning,” I said.
Angela shook her head.
“No. I need protection.”
“You are sitting inside my house with six armed guards between you and every exit.”
She looked at Vincent.
“Not from them. From him.”
She meant Arthur.
I did not ask.
Let her say it.
She swallowed.
“Mr. Voss came to me three weeks ago.”
Mercer whispered, “Angela.”
She flinched.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dr. Mercer. I told myself it was just pressure settings. I told myself it wasn’t permanent.”
I felt my fingers tighten around the head of my cane.
“What did he ask you to do?”
“He said your recovery was moving too fast.”
Vincent’s face darkened.
“He said the council needed time to see the truth. He said you were forcing yourself, hiding pain, risking everyone.”
I laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“And the reversed retaining plate?”
Angela wiped her face with the blanket.
“He gave it to me. He said it was a modified replacement part from the brace company. He said it would limit strain.”
“Did you believe him?”
“At first.”
“At first.”
She nodded quickly.
“Then you got worse. You kept saying the pain felt wrong. Dr. Mercer asked me to check the fit, and I almost told him.”
Mercer stared at her.
“Almost?”
Her eyes filled again.
“Arthur knew about my brother.”
The room went still.
“What about your brother?” I asked.
“He owes money. Not to you. To people outside Cicero. Bad people. Arthur said he could make it disappear. Then he said he could make it worse.”
Her voice broke.
“I have a son. I couldn’t lose my job. I couldn’t lose my brother. I thought it would only slow you down.”
I leaned forward.
“Who else knew?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know. Arthur. Maybe one of his men.”
“Names.”
“I never met them. I swear.”
“Angela,” I said, very softly, “a child saw you.”
She covered her mouth.
“I know.”
“You saw her too.”
“Yes.”
“And what did Arthur say?”
Her breathing changed.
“He said children forget things.”
Clare’s face flashed in my mind.
Ellie behind her skirt.
Ellie pointing through the glass.
My voice dropped.
“What else did he say?”
Angela looked toward the door, as if Arthur might walk through it.
“He asked who her mother was. I told him housekeeping. I told him Clare Rowan. He smiled. He said poor women scare easily.”
The cane creaked under my grip.
Vincent stepped closer.
I lifted one hand to stop him.
My anger had to stay clean.
Dirty anger made mistakes.
“Did Arthur order the crash?” I asked.
Angela blinked.
“I don’t know.”
Mercer looked at me.
“Dominic—”
I turned to him.
“You heard the question.”
He swallowed.
“I treated your injuries. There was nothing unusual in the surgical records.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Mercer’s shoulders slumped.
“I don’t know.”
Angela whispered, “He said the crash was a gift.”
My blood went cold.
“What?”
She looked at me with wide, terrified eyes.
“Two days ago. He was angry because you had called a private specialist. He said everything was going according to plan until you started doubting Mercer. He said the crash was a gift, and I was wasting it.”
Mercer sat down hard.
“I didn’t know.”
I watched him.
I believed him.
That did not make him innocent.
Blindness could serve betrayal as well as malice.
The door opened.
Lena stepped in.
“Clare is asking to leave.”
I stood too quickly.
Pain ripped through my knee, but I held the cane hard and stayed upright.
“Where is she?”
“Blue sitting room.”
I moved before anyone could argue.
The hallway outside felt longer than it had ever felt. Every step sent heat up my leg, but the loosened brace no longer tried to crush me.
That made me angrier.
Pain was one thing.
Knowing someone had fed it to me on purpose was another.
When I reached the blue sitting room, Clare was near the window with Ellie in her arms.
Ellie’s wooden toy lay on the sofa.
Clare turned when I entered.
Her eyes were swollen.
“I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “I know you said we should stay. But this is too much. I have to get my daughter out.”
I closed the door behind me.
“No one will hurt her here.”
“You don’t know that.”
She was right.
The truth hit harder because she said it without trying to wound me.
I looked at Ellie.
She had fallen asleep against Clare’s shoulder, one fist curled near her mouth.
So small.
So brave without knowing it.
“I know Arthur noticed her,” Clare whispered. “I saw how he looked at her.”
“Yes.”
Her lips parted.
I could have lied.
I did not.
“He knows she saw him.”
Clare hugged Ellie tighter.
“Then why would you keep us here?”
“Because if you leave through those gates, I cannot control who follows.”
Tears slipped down her face.
“I don’t have anyone, Mr. Vale.”
“I know.”
Her expression changed.
“You know?”
I looked away for a second.
“I know your husband died in a warehouse accident eighteen months ago. I know the settlement was delayed. I know you work double shifts and bring Ellie here when the sitter cancels.”
Her face flushed with shame.
“I never stole time.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“I never asked for special treatment.”
“No,” I said. “You didn’t. That is the problem.”
She stared at me.
The room felt too quiet.
“My world teaches people not to ask,” I said. “It teaches them to hide pain until it can be used against them.”
Her voice shook.
“That sounds like your world. Not mine.”
“It became yours tonight.”
She looked down at Ellie.
“I don’t want that.”
“Neither do I.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Ellie stirred.
Her eyes opened halfway.
“Mommy?”
“I’m here, baby.”
Ellie looked at me.
“Is the bad click gone?”
My throat tightened.
“Not yet.”
She blinked slowly.
“You have to fix all the clicks.”
“All of them?”
She nodded against her mother.
“The lady clicked the leg. The man clicked the door.”
I stepped closer.
“What door?”
Clare stiffened.
Ellie rubbed her eyes.
“The little door in the wall.”
My skin prickled.
“What wall?”
She pointed lazily toward the hallway.
“Where Mommy gets sheets.”
The linen closet.
I turned toward the door.
Vincent was already outside, waiting.
He saw my face and moved with me.
The linen closet sat near the service corridor, ordinary and narrow, stocked with sheets, towels, cleaning supplies, and old vents from a version of the house built before cameras and keypads.
Vincent opened it.
Nothing looked wrong.
Then I remembered Ellie’s words.
Little door in the wall.
Vincent pulled the shelves aside.
Behind stacked towels, low near the floor, was a small maintenance panel.
Its screws had fresh marks.
Vincent crouched and opened it.
Inside was a black device no larger than a deck of cards.
Wires ran into the wall.
Lena arrived behind us.
Her face changed as soon as she saw it.
“That’s tied into the security network.”
Vincent looked up at me.
“Backdoor access.”
My pulse slowed.
Not from calm.
From focus.
The brace.
The camera blackout.
The locked vote.
Angela’s attempted escape.
Now a device hidden where Clare and Ellie worked every day.
Arthur had not only weakened my leg.
He had walked through my house through a hole in its heart.
Lena checked the device.
“It’s transmitting.”
“To where?”
She looked at the signal trace.
Her voice went flat.
“The conference room.”
Vincent stood.
May you like
Arthur was not waiting to be questioned.
He was listening.
