Chapter 9 - The Second Payment
Steven left my house in police custody.
Not because I called them.
Malcolm did.
That surprised everyone.
Especially Steven.
Malcolm had brought his own attorney and enough documentation to prove he had authorized the original intimidation plan.
He also had banking records showing Steven transferred the first payment to the truck driver.
Then Patricia transferred another twenty-five thousand dollars through a shell company three days before the crash.
“What was the second payment for?” I asked.
Malcolm sat across from me.
“I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
“I suspected.”
“Different word.”
“Patricia told Steven the driver needed more money.”
“For what?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
Steven, sitting between two officers, looked exhausted.
“I didn’t know about the second payment.”
Malcolm laughed bitterly.
“You expect anyone to believe that?”
“It didn’t go through me.”
“Because Patricia went around you.”
Steven looked at me.
“I arranged a scare. That is the truth.”
“A scare that killed my wife.”
“Yes.”
“Then you buried evidence.”
“Yes.”
He looked older by the minute.
“I deserve prison.”
Nobody spoke.
“But I did not order Madeline killed.”
I believed him.
Not because I forgave him.
Because shame looked different from fear.
Steven was ashamed of the crash.
Terrified of Patricia.
“Then help me prove who did.”
He looked at Malcolm.
“The driver.”
“What about him?”
“Patricia met him personally.”
My jaw tightened.
“When?”
“The night before the crash.”
“Where?”
“A motel near Katy.”
“How do you know?”
“I followed her.”
“Why?”
“Because the second payment made me suspicious.”
“So you knew about it.”
“I knew money moved. I didn’t know where it went.”
“What happened at the motel?”
“I never went inside.”
“Why not?”
“She saw me.”
I stared.
“She confronted you?”
“The next morning.”
“What did she say?”
Steven looked toward the officers.
Then at me.
“She said I needed to decide whether I wanted to remain useful.”
That sounded like Patricia.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
Cowardice again.
A pattern.
“Then Madeline died.”
Steven nodded.
I looked at Malcolm.
“You brought these records here because?”
“Because Patricia stopped answering my calls yesterday.”
“Meaning?”
“She knows the investigation is closing around her.”
“So she ran.”
“I think so.”
Luis entered.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“Patricia’s house is empty.”
Of course.
“Airport?”
“No commercial flights under her name.”
“Private?”
“Checking.”
“Phones?”
“Off.”
I looked toward Clara.
She had gone upstairs to be with the twins.
A sudden thought hit me.
“Where is Daniel Hale Jr.?”
Malcolm frowned.
“At Texas Children’s.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Confirm.”
He called his son.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
His face changed.
“Call the hospital,” I said.
Malcolm did.
I watched panic slowly replace arrogance.
The nurse transferred him.
Then another voice.
Then silence.
“What?” I asked.
Malcolm stood.
“Daniel was discharged.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“By who?”
His face went white.
“Patricia.”
The room erupted.
Malcolm shouted into the phone.
“She is not his legal guardian!”
Steven stood despite the officers.
Luis began issuing instructions.
I felt something colder.
Patricia had taken the sick boy.
Why?
Not simply to run.
She still wanted Sophie.
I called Clara.
No answer.
My heart stopped.
Again.
Nothing.
I ran upstairs.
“Avery!”
No response.
“Sophie!”
Their bedroom was empty.
Clara’s phone lay on the floor.
The window was closed.
No broken glass.
I shouted for Luis.
He ran in.
“What happened?”
“The girls are gone.”
His face drained.
“That’s impossible.”
“Then explain the empty room.”
He checked the bathroom.
Closet.
Adjoining playroom.
Nothing.
I saw the blue lamp.
On.
Bunny lay on the floor.
Sophie would never leave without him willingly.
My body became ice.
“Lock the estate.”
“It’s already locked.”
“Then someone inside helped.”
Luis called security.
Every guard accounted for.
Every vehicle still present.
Then Avery’s voice came faintly from somewhere below.
“Daddy!”
I ran.
Downstairs.
Family room.
Kitchen.
“Avery!”
“Here!”
The voice came from behind the pantry.
Clara had taken the girls into the old storm shelter beneath the service staircase.
I ripped open the hidden door.
Clara stood inside holding a fireplace poker.
Avery and Sophie were behind her.
I nearly collapsed.
“What happened?”
Clara lowered the poker.
“Someone came upstairs.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You saw them?”
“Black clothes. Mask.”
Luis cursed.
“How did they enter?”
“I heard the hall door open. I grabbed the girls.”
“You didn’t call me.”
“I dropped my phone.”
I pulled both daughters into my arms.
Sophie was shaking violently.
“Daddy.”
“I’m here.”
“Bad man.”
“I know.”
Clara looked at Luis.
“He went into the bedroom.”
Luis radioed his men.
The intruder had disappeared.
No alarms.
No gate activity.
No visible entry.
That meant one thing.
Internal access.
Someone had used a route only household staff or longtime security knew.
The old service tunnel.
Madeline had hated it.
It connected the garage to the basement.
Originally built decades earlier for deliveries.
We had supposedly sealed it during renovation.
Apparently not completely.
Security found the basement panel open.
The intruder was gone.
On Sophie’s bed lay an envelope.
Inside was a photograph of Daniel Hale Jr.
Thin.
Bald from treatment.
Sitting in a hospital bed.
On the back:
ONE CHILD CAN SAVE ANOTHER.
I felt sick.
Clara read it.
Then tore the card in half.
I looked at her.
“That was evidence.”
“Sorry.”
She wasn’t.
Avery looked at the photograph.
“Is that boy sick?”
I took it away.
“Yes.”
“Does Patricia want Sophie to help him?”
I crouched.
“How do you know?”
“She told us.”
Every adult froze.
“When?”
“A long time ago.”
Of course.
Children had been carrying pieces of this secret for months.
“What did she say?”
Avery looked at Sophie.
Then answered.
“She said families share.”
Sophie whispered, “She said I was selfish.”
My chest tightened.
“For what?”
“For being scared of needles.”
Clara closed her eyes.
I fought to keep my voice steady.
“Did Patricia ever take you somewhere?”
The twins looked at each other.
That look.
The silent communication between siblings.
Finally Avery nodded.
“Doctor house.”
“What is doctor house?”
“Not hospital.”
Clara asked, “A clinic?”
Avery shrugged.
“White room.”
“When?”
“When you were in Dallas.”
I nearly stopped breathing.
Patricia had taken my daughters for medical testing while I traveled.
More than once.
I looked at Malcolm.
He appeared ready to vomit.
“You knew nothing about this?”
“No.”
“Your grandson did?”
“I don’t know.”
I turned toward Luis.
“Find every medical facility Patricia has paid in the last three years.”
He nodded.
“Also trace Daniel’s transportation.”
“Yes.”
Malcolm stepped closer.
“If she has him—”
“She does.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Patricia thinks children are leverage.”
The realization became complete.
She had spent years observing people through one lens.
Need.
What do they need?
What are they afraid to lose?
How can that be used?
She understood my guilt.
Malcolm’s desperation.
Steven’s cowardice.
Clara’s love for the girls.
And the twins’ fear of abandonment.
Now she had Daniel.
A dying child.
And somewhere in her mind, she believed that gave her leverage over Sophie.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone stopped.
I answered.
“Ethan.”
Patricia.
My entire body went still.
“Where are you?”
“You sound upset.”
“If you hurt Daniel—”
“I’m saving Daniel.”
“That isn’t your decision.”
“He has weeks.”
I looked at Malcolm.
He heard.
His face broke.
“Where is he?”
Patricia ignored the question.
“You have something I need.”
“What?”
“Sophie.”
Clara moved closer.
My voice became deadly calm.
“No.”
“She may be Daniel’s only match.”
“You will never touch my daughter again.”
“Then Daniel dies.”
“That blood is on you.”
Patricia went silent.
I continued.
“You could have asked.”
“And you would have said yes?”
“I would have listened.”
She laughed.
“You don’t listen, Ethan.”
That hurt because it was true.
“At least not until Clara teaches you.”
There it was.
Jealousy.
Still.
Even now.
“This was never about Daniel, was it?”
Patricia’s voice changed.
“You had everything.”
“What?”
“You, Madeline, those girls. Everyone acted like she had won some great prize.”
I closed my eyes.
“You killed her.”
Silence.
Malcolm stared at me.
Steven looked up.
Then Patricia whispered:
“No, Ethan.”
May you like
A pause.
“I just made sure the driver stopped being careful.”
