Chapter 2 - The Background Check
Marcus returned to the command center forty-eight minutes later carrying a thin black folder.
Dominic noticed the folder before he noticed the expression on his security chief’s face.
“Problem?”
Marcus placed it on the desk.
“Not exactly.”
Dominic opened it.
Grace Miller.
Thirty-two years old.
Born in Yonkers.
No arrests.
No bankruptcies.
No suspicious travel.
No connection to any rival family Dominic recognized.
No unexplained deposits.
No hidden luxury.
No boyfriend with a gambling problem.
No brother in prison.
Nothing that should have made Dominic feel better.
It did not.
He turned the page.
Employment history.
For six years, Grace had worked as a certified nursing assistant at Maple Glen Memory Care in White Plains.
Dominic looked up.
“She told human resources she’d been doing hotel housekeeping.”
“She did,” Marcus said. “Before that. Two years at a hotel near LaGuardia. Then Maple Glen.”
“Why leave it off?”
“Maybe because she applied to clean floors, not manage patients.”
Dominic’s gaze hardened.
Marcus knew better than to smile, but one corner of his mouth nearly moved.
“There’s more.”
Dominic looked back down.
The next page contained an address he recognized only because his people had already photographed it.
A narrow brick apartment building in Yonkers.
Third floor.
No doorman.
No parking garage.
No private security.
Grace lived there alone.
Then he saw another name.
Lorraine Miller.
Deceased.
Age sixty-one.
Dominic read the next paragraph twice.
Grace had left Maple Glen seven months before her mother’s death.
Lorraine had suffered from vascular dementia.
For nearly five years, Grace had been listed as her primary caregiver.
Dominic closed the folder.
“So she knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“Yes.”
“And she lied.”
Marcus leaned against the edge of the desk.
“She omitted a job.”
“That’s called lying.”
“Then half the people in Manhattan are criminals.”
Dominic looked at him.
Marcus straightened.
“Figure of speech.”
Dominic opened the folder again.
There was a copy of a complaint Grace had filed against Maple Glen three years earlier.
No lawsuit.
No settlement.
No dramatic accusation.
Just a written complaint regarding the repeated use of sedating medication on residents who were agitated but not medically dangerous.
Grace had refused to administer one of the medications until a supervising nurse personally evaluated the patient.
She had been written up.
Six months later, she resigned.
Dominic tapped the page.
“Why wasn’t she fired?”
“Because the resident’s family backed her.”
“What resident?”
Marcus shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter. Different facility. Different people.”
Everything mattered to Dominic.
That was another rule he had survived by.
“You spoke to anyone there?”
“One former nurse. She said Grace was good at the job and terrible at following orders she thought were stupid.”
Dominic almost laughed.
Almost.
“That sounds familiar.”
Marcus glanced toward Camera Four.
Evelyn’s suite was empty.
“She’s with your mother now.”
Dominic’s eyes shifted to the feed from the sitting room.
Grace sat beside the window with Evelyn.
No food tray.
No medical equipment.
A deck of playing cards lay between them.
Evelyn held one card close to her face.
“Queen,” she said.
Grace leaned over.
“Which queen?”
“The mean one.”
“There are four.”
“They’re all mean.”
Grace laughed.
Evelyn looked pleased with herself.
Dominic shut the folder.
“Send Grace to my office when she finishes.”
Marcus did not move.
“What?”
“You could just ask her.”
“I am asking her.”
“No. You’re ordering me to order her.”
Dominic slowly raised his eyes.
Marcus had worked for him for fourteen years.
That bought him a certain amount of freedom.
Not an unlimited amount.
“I pay you very well to survive observations like that.”
Marcus nodded.
“That’s why I stop after one.”
He left.
Dominic remained in the command center.
On the monitor, Grace collected the cards.
Evelyn reached out and caught her wrist.
Grace stopped immediately.
“What?”
Evelyn stared at her with sudden intensity.
“Don’t let him frighten you.”
Grace’s expression changed.
“Who?”
“My son.”
Dominic sat forward.
Grace glanced once toward the camera mounted high in the corner.
She knew exactly where it was.
Then she looked back at Evelyn.
“I’m not afraid of your son.”
Evelyn considered that.
“You should be a little.”
Grace smiled.
“I’ll write it down.”
Twenty minutes later, someone knocked on Dominic’s office door.
“Come in.”
Grace entered wearing the same black uniform and white apron.
She did not look nervous.
That irritated him more than nervousness would have.
“Close the door.”
She did.
Dominic gestured toward the chair across from his desk.
Grace sat.
The black folder rested between them.
Her eyes dropped to it.
Then returned to his face.
“You ran a background check.”
Not a question.
Dominic leaned back.
“You seem remarkably comfortable with that.”
“I work in the home of a man with armed guards at the breakfast table.”
“There are no armed guards at the breakfast table.”
“There are two outside the dining-room door.”
“That’s different.”
“Of course.”
He ignored the tone.
“You were a certified nursing assistant.”
“Yes.”
“You cared for dementia patients.”
“Yes.”
“You cared for your mother.”
Grace’s jaw tightened slightly.
“Yes.”
“But you applied here as a housekeeper.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked at the folder again.
“Did the paper not answer that?”
“I’m asking you.”
For the first time since entering, she looked tired.
Not afraid.
Tired.
“Because I don’t want to be a caregiver anymore.”
“Yet you’ve been caring for my mother.”
“I’ve been talking to your mother.”
“You’re getting her to eat.”
“Sometimes.”
“You’re calming her.”
“Sometimes.”
“You know how to redirect her when she’s confused.”
Grace folded her hands.
“People don’t forget how to be people because their memory is failing.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is the only one I have.”
Dominic stood and walked toward the window.
His office overlooked the rear gardens.
Everything outside had been designed to be controlled.
Hedges trimmed to exact height.
Cameras hidden beneath stone ledges.
Motion sensors beneath the trees.
Nothing entered without permission.
Nothing left without being noticed.
“What happened to your mother?”
Grace went very still.
He turned.
“I read the report.”
“Then you know she died.”
“I know that.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because reports tell me what happened. Not what it did to you.”
Grace stared at him for several seconds.
“You ask personal questions like an interrogation.”
“That’s usually how I ask questions.”
“I noticed.”
She stood.
“I need to finish the east hallway.”
“Sit down.”
“No.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
Grace took a slow breath.
“Mr. Blackwell, I came here because cleaning work is simple. A room is dirty. I clean it. The shift ends. I go home.”
“You make less money.”
“Yes.”
“You’re overqualified.”
“Probably.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“Not as much as being responsible for whether another human being eats, sleeps, remembers, wanders, falls, cries, fights, or wakes up knowing who I am.”
The last words came out quieter.
Dominic said nothing.
Grace looked toward the door.
“My mother lived with me for four years.”
He waited.
“She used to be a bookkeeper. She balanced everything to the penny. Then one day she accused me of stealing a blue sweater she hadn’t owned in twenty years.”
Grace swallowed.
“The next year she stopped knowing which apartment was ours.”
Dominic lowered his voice.
“And the year after that?”
“She started asking when her daughter was coming home while I was sitting next to her.”
The office felt different.
Smaller.
Grace reached for the doorknob.
“That’s why I left it off my application.”
“You thought I wouldn’t hire you.”
“I thought you would hire me for the wrong job.”
Dominic stared at her.
“What if I offered you that job now?”
“No.”
He had not expected the answer so quickly.
“I haven’t told you the salary.”
“That’s because you think the salary is the important part.”
“I can triple what you make.”
“No.”
“Four times.”
Grace’s hand remained on the doorknob.
“You really hate that word, don’t you?”
Dominic’s mouth tightened.
“You’re good with my mother.”
“That doesn’t mean I belong to her.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
A sound came from the hallway.
A crash.
Then a woman screamed.
Dominic moved before Grace did.
They reached the east wing at the same time.
One of the nurses stood outside Evelyn’s room.
Inside, Evelyn had backed herself against the wall.
Her dinner tray lay overturned.
A glass had shattered near the bed.
And Evelyn was staring at Dominic as if she had never seen him before.
“Get away from me.”
He stopped.
“Mom.”
Her face twisted.
“No.”
“It’s me.”
“No.”
“Dominic.”
Evelyn grabbed the lamp from the bedside table.
Grace caught his sleeve.
“Don’t go closer.”
He looked down at her hand.
“Let go.”
“Lower your voice.”
“This is my mother.”
“I know.”
“She’s confused.”
“I know.”
He took another step.
Evelyn raised the lamp.
“Charles, I swear to God, if you touch me—”
Dominic stopped so abruptly his shoe scraped the floor.
Nobody spoke.
Charles.
His father.
Dead for twenty-seven years.
Grace released Dominic’s sleeve.
Very quietly, she said, “Step into the hallway.”
His eyes snapped toward her.
“Now.”
No employee had ever spoken to him like that in his own home.
But his mother was shaking.
So Dominic did something no one in the hallway expected.
He obeyed.
Grace entered alone.
She did not approach Evelyn.
She sat on the floor near the doorway.
“Mrs. Blackwell?”
Evelyn’s hands shook around the lamp.
“He found me.”
Grace looked toward the hallway, then back at her.
“You don’t want him near you.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Dominic’s fingers curled into his palm.
Grace’s voice remained steady.
“He can stay outside.”
Evelyn stared at her.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Five minutes later, the lamp was back on the table.
Ten minutes later, Evelyn was sitting on the bed.
Fifteen minutes later, she was drinking water.
Dominic stood outside the entire time.
Helpless.
Again.
When Grace finally came out, he blocked her path.
“What did she mean?”
Grace looked at him.
“You know who Charles was.”
“My father.”
“She was afraid of him.”
“He never—”
Dominic stopped.
Grace waited.
His certainty had arrived too quickly.
He heard it himself.
“She was confused.”
“Yes,” Grace said. “And confusion doesn’t invent every feeling from nothing.”
His eyes hardened.
“Be careful.”
“I am.”
“You don’t know my family.”
“No.”
Grace stepped around him.
“But maybe you don’t know all of it either.”
That night, Dominic sat beside Evelyn’s bed after she woke.
For several minutes, she stared at the ceiling.
Then her eyes moved toward him.
This time, recognition appeared.
“Dominic?”
His chest loosened.
“Yes.”
She looked toward the empty doorway.
“Did you fire the girl?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He almost smiled.
Evelyn closed her eyes again.
Then she said, “She remembers I’m still a person.”
Dominic looked at his mother.
May you like
At the woman who had spent most of his childhood protecting him from things he had never fully understood.
And for the first time, the background check on Grace Miller felt less important than the questions he had never asked about his own home.
