Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Fell On The Sidewalk Had Been Marked For Death
The man caught in the building was named Peter Sloan.
At least, that was the name on his identification.
His fingerprints told another story.
He had several aliases.
None were connected to Hargrove Health Group.
He was not maintenance staff.
He had entered using a stolen access card.
And he had one specific target.
Margaret Hargrove's medical records.
Adrian wanted answers.
The police wanted cooperation.
Adrian gave them neither.
Instead, he called me into his office.
“Tell me what you remember from the sidewalk.”
I thought for a moment.
“She had a seizure.”
“Anything unusual?”
“Her breathing changed afterward.”
“Explain.”
“Her pulse was irregular before she became conscious.”
“And?”
I hesitated.
“There was a smell.”
“What kind?”
“I don't know.”
“Chemical?”
“Possibly.”
Adrian nodded.
“You've confirmed what I suspected.”
“What?”
“Someone poisoned her.”
I sat down.
“How?”
“We don't know yet.”
“Then why call it poisoning?”
“Because the hospital reran her toxicology.”
My stomach tightened.
“And?”
“They found traces of aconite.”
I stared at him.
“Aconite?”
“Yes.”
“That's dangerous.”
“Very.”
“It can cause arrhythmias and neurological symptoms.”
“That is why you're here.”
“No.”
He waited.
“I am here because you offered me a job. I am not part of your investigation.”
“You are now.”
“I didn't agree to that.”
“You agreed to work with my mother's medical records.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“You're right.”
He stepped closer.
“It means I trust you.”
I hated how much that affected me.
We worked together for hours.
I reviewed Margaret's records.
The toxicology suggested exposure days before the seizure.
Which meant the sidewalk wasn't the beginning.
It was the final stage.
Someone had been slowly poisoning her.
“Who knew about her medications?” I asked.
“Family. Staff. Doctor.”
“House staff?”
“Yes.”
“Security?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else?”
Adrian's expression changed.
“My fiancée.”
I looked up.
“Your what?”
He stared at me.
“I was engaged.”
“Was?”
“Until yesterday.”
“Why?”
“Because I discovered she lied to me.”
That was an understatement.
Her name was Celeste Vaughn.
She arrived the next afternoon.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
Cold.
She entered Adrian's office as though she owned it.
Then she saw me.
Her smile disappeared.
“Who's she?”
“Nora Callahan,” Adrian said.
Celeste looked me up and down.
“The paramedic.”
I nodded.
“You work here?”
“Yes.”
“How interesting.”
I did not like her.
She did not like me.
That became obvious within seconds.
Celeste stepped closer to Adrian.
“You didn't tell me she was involved.”
“She isn't involved.”
I looked at him.
He looked back.
“That was convincing,” I murmured.
Celeste's eyes narrowed.
“What exactly does she do?”
“My mother's medical liaison.”
Celeste laughed.
“She's a paramedic.”
“A former paramedic.”
“Still.”
Adrian said nothing.
Celeste looked at me.
“You should be careful, Nora.”
I frowned.
“About what?”
“People in Adrian's world tend to disappear.”
The room went silent.
Adrian's voice turned ice-cold.
“Leave.”
Celeste blinked.
“What?”
“I said leave.”
“But—”
“Now.”
She stormed out.
I waited.
Then I asked:
“Who is she?”
Adrian leaned against his desk.
“Someone I was supposed to marry.”
“Why aren't you?”
“Because I found out she had been meeting with someone named Victor Kane.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Adrian noticed.
“You don't know who he is.”
“No.”
“Good.”
Later that week, Margaret asked me to visit her home.
She had made tea.
We sat in the sunroom overlooking the lake.
“My son likes you,” she said.
I nearly choked.
“He tolerates me.”
She smiled.
“No.”
“Mrs. Hargrove…”
“Margaret.”
I sighed.
“Margaret.”
“He hasn't looked at a woman like that in years.”
I looked away.
“That's not appropriate.”
“Why?”
“Because he's my employer.”
“He wasn't always.”
“What do you mean?”
She didn't answer.
Instead, she reached into a drawer.
Then she placed a small velvet box on the table.
Inside was a silver bracelet.
I recognized it immediately.
It had been in her purse the day she collapsed.
“You were wearing this.”
“Yes.”
“Why give it to me?”
“Because you found it.”
I stared.
There was a tiny inscription on the inside.
N.C.
My initials.
But that was impossible.
“Where did this come from?”
Margaret's expression became strange.
“I was wondering the same thing.”
My pulse quickened.
“Who gave it to you?”
She shook her head.
“I don't remember.”
Before I could ask another question, the door opened.
Adrian entered.
He saw the bracelet.
His face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your mother gave it to me.”
He looked at Margaret.
“Why?”
“She deserves to know.”
“Know what?”
Margaret stood.
“Not yet.”
“Mother.”
“Not yet.”
I looked from one to the other.
“What is going on?”
Neither answered.
Adrian took my wrist gently.
The bracelet fit perfectly.
Too perfectly.
My breath caught.
“How?”
He stared at the inscription.
Then at me.
“I don't know.”
I pulled my hand away.
“That's a terrible answer.”
He looked at me.
Then he said something that made the entire room turn cold.
“My father died twenty-four years ago.”
“I know.”
“He wore a bracelet like this.”
I stared.
“What does that have to do with me?”
Adrian didn't answer.
May you like
Margaret did.
“Everything.”
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