Chapter 2 - I DIDN’T BREAK THE CHAIN
The moment Rachel disappeared upstairs, I went back to Ethan.
“Is there another camera?”
He blinked slowly.
“Two. Maybe three.”
I found one above the furnace and another aimed at the pillar.
Rachel had not only imprisoned him.
She had created a record.
Some part of their plan required footage of Ethan weak, confused, and surrounded by drug paraphernalia.
I did not touch the cameras.
I photographed their positions.
Then I took out the small emergency phone I carried when driving mountain roads. It used a separate carrier and was registered through a holding company with no visible connection to me.
I called 911.
I spoke quietly.
“My son is restrained in the basement of 817 Crestmoor Ridge. He has a severe leg injury and appears to have been drugged. The people responsible are upstairs with approximately fifteen guests. At least one suspect may be armed.”
The dispatcher wanted me to leave.
“I won’t move him. I’ll stay hidden.”
I gave the entrance code and described the service door.
Then I sent one message to Miriam Cross.
Miriam had worked for Royal Way Transport for twenty-three years. Publicly, she was director of compliance at a midsize freight holding company.
Privately, she was one of three people who knew I still controlled Royal Way.
I wrote:
Activate Miller emergency protocol. Ethan alive. Crestmoor estate. Preserve all corporate access. Contact Helen Ward.
Her reply came in nine seconds.
Done.
Ethan’s breathing changed.
I moved close enough for him to hear me.
“Police are coming.”
“No.” Panic sharpened his face. “Arthur knows people.”
“Not everyone.”
“They’ll say I did this to myself.”
“That is why I haven’t touched anything.”
I wanted to cut the chain.
I wanted to carry him out.
His leg could contain damaged blood vessels, and I had no idea what they had injected. Moving him without medical support might cause more harm.
So I stayed beside him.
That decision felt like betrayal while he suffered inches away.
Evidence and safety sometimes required stillness that looked like cowardice.
Footsteps sounded overhead.
The band stopped.
A man’s voice announced that midnight was twelve minutes away.
Then Arthur came down the stairs.
I moved behind the rack again.
He carried a medical case and a glass of amber liquid.
Ethan tried to drag himself backward.
Arthur set the case down.
“You have created an unnecessary amount of work.”
“My father will come.”
Arthur laughed.
“Your father is an old trucker who thinks your regional company belongs to you.”
He opened the case.
Inside were sealed syringes, alcohol pads, and two medication vials.
Ethan turned his face away.
Arthur caught his jaw.
“The final dose needs to look believable.”
I recorded every word.
Then Arthur’s phone rang.
He stepped aside to answer.
A male voice came faintly through the speaker.
“Has he signed?”
“No.”
“Then use the contingency. The board meets at eight.”
Arthur lowered his voice.
“The overdose announcement goes out at twelve fifteen. His death certificate won’t exist by eight.”
“It doesn’t need to. Rachel invokes incapacity under the spouse authorization.”
Arthur glanced toward the camera.
“Keep the transport files moving. Shaw is getting nervous.”
Shaw.
May you like
Gavin Shaw was Royal Way’s chief operating officer.
The man I had trusted to run the company I pretended no longer to own.
