Chapter 7 - The Lawyer at Midnight
Peter Vale did not run.
That made it worse.
He turned toward the sound of Arthur’s monitor like a man who had heard somebody drop a tray.
Quinn stepped into the doorway and raised one hand.
“Mr. Vale, stay where you are.”
Peter looked at her badge.
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not yet.”
“Then move.”
“No.”
Marcus was already in the hall.
Two nurses were inside Arthur’s room. One was checking the monitor leads. Arthur had pulled the oxygen tubing away from his nose and was trying to sit up.
“That man,” he said.
Marcus took his shoulder.
“Dad.”
“He was at the house.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.” Arthur pointed toward the door. “He came to the elevator.”
Peter stood twenty feet away with Quinn between him and the room.
Arthur’s finger shook.
“He said keep me breathing until Thursday.”
Peter’s mouth tightened.
“That is absurd.”
Arthur laughed once and coughed.
“You always did use that word when you were caught.”
Quinn said, “Mr. Vale, I need you to come with me.”
Peter picked up his briefcase.
“I will come voluntarily. I want that stated clearly.”
He walked with her.
At the elevator he looked back at Marcus.
“You have no idea what your father has done to this family.”
The doors closed.
Arthur sank back against the pillow.
Marcus stood over him.
“What did he mean?”
“Later.”
“No.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
“Marcus.”
“Everybody keeps telling me later.”
A nurse touched Marcus’s arm.
“Your father needs rest.”
Arthur opened his eyes again.
“Peter knows the charter because Peter wrote the amendment.”
“What amendment?”
“The one that gave you twelve.”
Marcus waited.
Arthur looked toward the window.
“I was removing Susan from succession.”
The words landed cleanly.
Marcus felt no satisfaction from them.
“Why?”
“Because money was already missing.”
“You knew that eighteen years ago?”
“No. I knew she was signing things Vincent put in front of her without reading them.”
Marcus thought of the four folders at Calder House.
“What did you think would happen when she found out?”
“I thought she would hate me.”
“She locked you in a wall.”
Arthur did not answer.
At 5:18 a.m., Quinn came back alone.
“Vale’s office is empty.”
Marcus stared at her.
“You had him.”
“He came voluntarily. We did not have probable cause to hold him on kidnapping based on one statement from a hospitalized victim while we were still processing the scene.”
“He was on video.”
“Entering a house he has represented for twenty-seven years.”
“The syringe.”
“Not in his hand.”
Marcus turned away.
Quinn continued.
“His office was cleared before he came here. Computers gone. Paper files gone. His assistant says he told staff yesterday afternoon the firm was closing for renovation.”
“Yesterday.”
“Yes.”
Before Arthur had been found.
Before Eli heard the wall.
Peter had planned to disappear whether Marcus signed or not.
A nurse came down the hall pushing a medication cart.
She wore blue scrubs and a white jacket. Her hair was tucked into a disposable cap.
Eli stepped out of the family room carrying the hot chocolate cup, still full.
He looked at the nurse.
Then at Quinn.
Then back at the nurse.
“Dad,” he said.
Marcus turned.
The nurse had reached Arthur’s door.
Eli pointed.
“Her badge is wrong.”
The woman’s hand stopped on the door handle.
Quinn moved.
The woman shoved the medication cart sideways.
It hit Quinn at the knees.
Marcus grabbed the doorframe as the woman drove through Arthur’s doorway with a syringe already in her hand.
Arthur turned his head.
The needle came down toward the IV port.
Marcus hit her from the side.
They went into the wall hard enough to crack the plastic dispenser mounted there.
The syringe flew under the bed.
Quinn came in behind him and took the woman down with one knee between her shoulder blades.
For three seconds the room held nothing but breathing.
Then something slid out of the woman’s jacket pocket.
A photograph.
Eli bent before anyone stopped him.
It was a school picture.
His school picture.
On the back, in black ink, someone had written:
May you like
IF ARTHUR TALKS, MOVE TO THE BOY.
