Chapter 4 - THE FALL THEY PLANNED FOR HIM
Peter left Hawthorne House at 8:14 that night.
He was not escorted out.
Adrian deliberately allowed him to leave alone.
Leah thought it was a mistake.
"You have security."
"They report to Peter."
"All of them?"
"I don't know."
"That's comforting."
Adrian ignored the sarcasm.
Camille remained in the east wing.
Technically.
Leah suspected she was packing.
At ten, Dr. Shaw returned.
He confirmed what they already feared.
The unauthorized sedative had appeared repeatedly in Adrian's medication administration records.
More alarming, someone had adjusted other drugs in ways that could worsen fatigue and reduce blood pressure.
Enough to make Adrian confused.
Weak.
Possibly unconscious.
Not necessarily enough to kill him.
"Why not simply murder me?" Adrian asked.
Dr. Shaw looked uncomfortable.
"Because dead men attract investigations."
Leah stood near the fireplace.
"And disabled men?"
Dr. Shaw answered quietly.
"Disabled men are too often assumed to be declining naturally."
Adrian looked toward the fire.
He didn't react outwardly.
Leah had started recognizing the moments that hurt him most.
They were the moments when he became completely still.
Dr. Shaw continued.
"I need to report this."
Adrian shook his head.
"Not yet."
"Adrian."
"I need evidence that leads beyond the medicine."
"You need protection."
"I need to know who shot me."
Leah looked at him.
"You think it's connected?"
"The medication. The property transfer. Peter. Camille."
He paused.
"Too many coincidences."
Dr. Shaw packed his bag.
"I'll return tomorrow."
When he left, Leah looked at Adrian.
"What happens if Peter knows you figured it out?"
"He doesn't."
"He basically confessed that he knows about your medication."
"He made a mistake. There's a difference."
"You're awfully confident for someone whose own security might be compromised."
Adrian looked at her.
"Go home."
"No."
He frowned.
Leah folded her arms.
"Your night nurse called out twenty minutes ago."
"I'll call somebody else."
"From the staff you don't trust?"
Silence.
"Exactly."
"I don't need a babysitter."
"Good. Because I don't babysit men who own helicopters."
"I own one helicopter."
"That changes everything."
For a moment, the tension broke.
Then Adrian's expression softened.
"You have a life."
Leah thought about her apartment.
Her brother studying for an accounting exam at the kitchen table.
The stack of bills near the refrigerator.
Her mother's photograph beside the sink.
"I do."
"You should go live it."
"Tonight I can live it here."
Something changed in his face.
Leah busied herself adjusting the blanket over his legs.
She was not trained as a nurse, but after weeks around Adrian she had learned the practical routines.
Position changes.
Pressure checks.
Keeping his legs supported.
Making sure he didn't remain in one posture too long.
She always explained before touching him.
That mattered.
People had begun treating his body like public property.
She refused.
"Can I move your left foot?"
"Yes."
She adjusted it.
Adrian watched her.
"Why do you always ask?"
"What?"
"Before touching me."
Leah looked up.
"Because it's your body."
The simplicity of the answer silenced him.
She added, "Losing movement doesn't mean you lost the right to decide who touches you."
Adrian looked away.
Leah pretended not to notice the emotion he tried to hide.
At midnight, she settled into the sitting room connected to his bedroom.
At 1:47 a.m., she woke to a crash.
Leah ran.
Adrian was on the floor.
His wheelchair lay on its side.
"Don't move."
He was conscious.
Furious.
"I'm aware."
She dropped beside him.
"What happened?"
"Brake failed."
Leah looked at the wheelchair.
Adrian had apparently tried transferring from the bed alone.
He had positioned the chair close.
Locked it.
Or thought he had.
Then the chair rolled.
"Did you hit your head?"
"No."
"Back?"
"No."
"Any pain?"
"Only to my pride."
"That survived."
She reached for the emergency call system.
Nothing happened.
She pressed again.
Dead.
Leah's heartbeat changed.
She looked at the wall panel.
The power indicator was dark.
Someone had disabled it.
"Adrian."
He heard the difference in her voice.
"What?"
"The call system's off."
His face hardened.
Leah grabbed her phone.
No signal.
They both looked at each other.
The estate had signal boosters throughout the house.
Unless someone had disabled those too.
A floorboard creaked in the hallway.
Leah stood.
"Stay here."
Adrian stared at her.
"An inspired suggestion."
She almost smiled.
Another sound.
Closer.
Leah moved toward the door.
A shadow crossed beneath it.
Then the handle turned.
Leah grabbed the nearest object.
A brass lamp.
The door opened.
A man stepped inside.
Not Peter.
One of the night security guards.
Mason.
He looked surprised to see Leah.
"What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?"
"I heard a crash."
"The alarm system is down."
"Power issue."
"The lights work."
Mason's eyes flicked toward Adrian on the floor.
Then toward the wheelchair.
Too quickly.
Leah noticed.
Adrian noticed.
Mason took one step forward.
"I'll help him."
"No."
Leah's answer came instantly.
Mason stopped.
"Move."
"No."
He smiled.
It was not friendly.
"You're housekeeping."
"And you're standing in a bedroom at two in the morning after the emergency system mysteriously stopped working."
Adrian spoke from the floor.
"Mason."
The guard looked at him.
Adrian's voice was calm.
"Show me your hands."
Mason didn't.
Instead, his right hand moved toward his jacket.
Leah lifted the lamp.
Adrian shouted, "NOW!"
Mason lunged.
Leah swung.
The lamp caught his forearm.
Something metal hit the floor.
A syringe.
Adrian saw it.
His expression changed.
Mason shoved Leah into the dresser.
Pain exploded through her shoulder.
He reached for the syringe.
Adrian grabbed the fallen wheelchair by the rim and pulled with both arms.
The heavy chair slid across the floor and struck Mason's knee.
The guard stumbled.
Leah kicked the syringe beneath the bed.
Then she screamed.
Not because she was frightened.
Because Hawthorne House was enormous, and someone trustworthy had to hear.
Mason grabbed her.
Adrian seized his ankle.
Mason tried to kick free.
Adrian couldn't feel the boot striking his leg.
That made him dangerous in a different way.
He held on.
Leah twisted.
Mason lost balance.
He fell hard against the bedframe.
Footsteps thundered down the hallway.
The door flew open.
Helena appeared with two daytime security men behind her.
Mason froze.
Adrian still gripped his ankle.
"Get him off my floor."
The guards pulled Mason away.
Helena stared at the syringe.
"What is that?"
Adrian's eyes found Leah.
She was breathing hard, one hand pressed to her shoulder.
"Evidence."
Thirty minutes later, police had been called.
Not Adrian's usual police contacts.
Real detectives.
Dr. Shaw arrived again and confirmed the syringe contained enough sedative to render Adrian unconscious.
Then one detective examined the wheelchair.
The brake cable had been cut.
The fall had been planned.
The disabled call system had been planned.
The syringe had been planned.
Adrian had not accidentally fallen.
Someone intended to make it appear that a newly paralyzed man, emotionally unstable and overmedicated, had suffered another medical crisis.
Mason refused to talk.
Until detectives found thirty thousand dollars in cash in his locker.
The money had been withdrawn that afternoon from an account connected to Meridian Waterfront Partners.
Camille's brother.
Leah stood near the bedroom window as police photographed the scene.
Adrian sat back in bed.
For once, he looked tired enough to admit it.
"You should go to the hospital," Leah said.
"I'm fine."
"You fell."
"I can't feel half of where I landed."
"That isn't reassuring."
He looked at her bruised shoulder.
"You're injured."
"Also fine."
"Leah."
"Adrian."
They stared at each other.
He sighed.
"You are incredibly difficult."
"You hired me."
"I don't remember doing that."
"Then complain to Helena."
A detective interrupted.
"Mr. Marlowe, there's something else."
Adrian turned.
"We accessed Mr. Mason's phone."
The detective hesitated.
"The payment contact was saved under initials."
"What initials?"
"C.V."
Silence.
Leah looked toward the hallway.
Camille Voss.
The woman wearing Adrian's engagement ring.
The woman sleeping beneath his roof.
The woman who had just become the primary suspect in an attempt to incapacitate him.
Adrian looked at the detective.
"Where is Camille?"
Nobody answered.
Helena rushed in moments later.
Her face was white.
"Sir."
"What?"
"Miss Voss is gone."
Adrian stared.
"Her car?"
"Still here."
"Security footage?"
Helena swallowed.
"The east service camera was shut off seventeen minutes before the incident."
Adrian's eyes hardened.
Helena continued.
"And Peter D'Angelo's car was seen leaving the rear road at two-oh-three."
Leah looked at the clock.
Peter had returned.
He had taken Camille.
Or Camille had gone willingly.
Adrian looked toward the darkness beyond the windows.
The betrayal was no longer inside his imagination.
May you like
It was moving through the night.
And whoever had begun this six months earlier now knew Adrian Marlowe was no longer willing to remain upstairs and disappear.
