Chapter 2 - THE BOY HAD BEEN DRUGGED BEFORE HE EVER TOUCHED THE WATERThe first lie reached the hospital before Dorian Ashford did.
“The boy sleepwalks.”
Audrey looked up from the emergency-room chair.
A woman in a cream raincoat stood beside the trauma-room doors, perfectly dry despite the storm outside.
She was beautiful in the polished, deliberate way expensive people often were.
Dark auburn hair.
Pearl earrings.
Diamond wedding band.
Not one strand out of place.
Audrey was still soaked through.
Mud dried beneath her fingernails.
Her scrub pants clung to bruised legs.
One bare foot was wrapped in gauze because she had sliced it climbing the river embankment.
The contrast was almost insulting.
“Who are you?” Audrey asked.
The woman looked at her as though the question were strange.
“Sabine Ashford.”
The name landed.
Dorian Ashford’s wife.
Not the boy’s mother, Audrey realized.
She had read enough society pages during endless overnight shifts to know Dorian’s first wife, Olivia, had died six years earlier.
Sabine had married him two years ago.
She glanced toward the closed trauma-room doors.
“Eli has had sleepwalking episodes since his mother died.”
Audrey stared.
“He sleepwalked four miles through a security lockdown and into the Mississippi?”
Sabine’s expression tightened.
“I’m explaining that he sometimes wanders.”
“He was wearing a winter coat.”
“What?”
Audrey leaned forward.
“Shoes too.”
She had noticed while pulling him from the water.
Expensive leather sneakers.
Laces tied.
Heavy coat zipped to the chin.
“That wasn’t a child who wandered downstairs half asleep.”
Sabine’s face remained composed.
“You’ve had a difficult night.”
“So has Eli.”
That answer seemed to irritate her.
Then the emergency-room doors opened.
A doctor stepped out.
“Family of Eli Ashford?”
Sabine moved first.
“I’m his stepmother.”
Audrey stood despite the pain in her side.
The doctor glanced between them.
“He’s stable.”
Audrey’s knees nearly failed.
Stable.
Not safe.
But stable.
“His temperature was dangerously low when EMS brought him in, and he aspirated river water. We’re monitoring his lungs closely.”
Sabine pressed a hand to her chest.
“Can I see him?”
“His father has been contacted?”
Audrey almost laughed.
Contacted was one description.
Threatened by phone was another.
“He’s coming,” Audrey said.
Sabine looked sharply at her.
“You spoke to Dorian?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did you tell him?”
“The truth.”
For the first time, something cold moved behind Sabine’s expression.
Then tires screamed outside.
Not one vehicle.
Several.
The waiting room changed before Dorian even entered.
Security guards straightened.
A police officer near reception looked toward the doors.
Two nurses stopped talking.
Dorian Ashford walked inside wearing black trousers and a charcoal shirt beneath an open raincoat.
No tie.
No polished public mask.
His dark hair was wet.
His face looked carved from something harder than anger.
Three men followed.
One of them carried himself like professional security.
The others looked like men Audrey would not willingly meet in an alley.
Dorian’s eyes found her immediately.
Then Sabine.
Then the trauma-room doors.
“Where is he?”
The doctor stepped forward.
“Mr. Ashford—”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
The single word broke something in Dorian’s face.
Only for a second.
He closed his eyes.
Then:
“What happened?”
The doctor began explaining.
Dorian listened without interrupting.
That surprised Audrey.
No threats.
No demands.
Just terrifying concentration.
Then the doctor said:
“There is another concern.”
Dorian’s eyes sharpened.
“What?”
“We ran a standard toxicology screen because of his altered mental status.”
Sabine became still.
Audrey noticed.
The doctor continued.
“Eli had a benzodiazepine in his system.”
Silence.
Dorian stared.
“Medication?”
“No prescription is listed.”
“How much?”
“Not a lethal dose.”
“But enough to cause sedation, poor coordination, confusion.”
Audrey felt cold despite the hospital heat.
Dorian looked toward Sabine.
“Did he take anything tonight?”
“No.”
Her answer came quickly.
“Nothing.”
Dorian’s gaze moved back to the doctor.
“Could river exposure cause a false result?”
“No.”
“Could hospital treatment?”
“We drew blood before administering medication.”
Dorian did not move.
Then:
“Who was with him tonight?”
Sabine opened her mouth.
A second voice answered.
“Mrs. Ashford, his tutor, and two security officers.”
The man behind Dorian stepped forward.
He was broad, gray at the temples, maybe forty-five.
“Name?” Audrey asked.
He looked at her.
“Jonah Mercer.”
“Head of security,” Dorian added.
Jonah continued.
“Estate went into full lockdown at nine thirty after we received another threat.”
Audrey frowned.
“Another?”
Dorian’s eyes shifted toward her.
“Three weeks ago someone sent photographs of Eli leaving school.”
“Last week a vehicle followed his driver.”
“Tonight he was not supposed to leave the residence under any circumstances.”
Audrey remembered his question on the phone.
Who let him out?
Jonah’s expression darkened.
“Nobody should have been able to.”
Sabine folded her arms.
“The boy sleepwalks.”
Dorian looked at her.
And this time Audrey saw it.
Not agreement.
Suspicion.
“Through magnetic locks?” he asked.
Sabine’s mouth tightened.
“He knows codes.”
“No.”
Dorian’s voice dropped.
“He knows his bedroom code.”
“The security lockdown disables child-level permissions.”
Sabine went quiet.
Jonah added:
“Exterior doors required executive override.”
“Who has executive override?” Audrey asked.
Nobody answered immediately.
That was answer enough.
Dorian.
Jonah.
Sabine.
And—
Dorian looked toward his security chief.
“Landon.”
Jonah nodded once.
Audrey did not know the name.
Sabine did.
Her face lost color.
Only slightly.
But Audrey had spent years caring for elderly people who lied about falls, pain, medication, and children who never visited.
She had learned to watch the parts of faces people could not discipline fast enough.
“Who is Landon?” she asked.
Dorian’s voice became colder.
“My brother.”
Before anyone could say more, a nurse approached Audrey.
“Ms. Voss?”
“Yes?”
“We found something in the boy’s coat.”
She handed over a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a gold cufflink.
Black enamel.
A small engraved letter.
L.
Dorian stared.
Jonah swore quietly.
Sabine said:
“That proves nothing.”
Nobody had accused her.
Interesting.
Dorian took one step closer to the evidence bag.
“Landon lost those cufflinks last Christmas.”
“How do you know?” Audrey asked.
“I gave them to him.”
A police officer approached.
“We’ll need that for evidence.”
The nurse nodded.
Dorian did not argue.
Another surprise.
Then Eli woke.
The sound came from behind the trauma-room doors.
A strangled cry.
“No!”
Everyone turned.
Another cry.
“NO!”
Audrey moved before anyone else.
A nurse opened the door.
Eli was sitting upright in the hospital bed, oxygen tubing beneath his nose, terror making his entire small body shake.
“Don't lock it!”
Dorian stopped in the doorway.
His son looked toward him.
For one second Audrey expected relief.
Instead Eli recoiled.
“Don't lock me in!”
Dorian’s face changed.
“Eli.”
“No!”
Audrey entered slowly.
“Hey.”
The boy saw her.
His breathing slowed by a fraction.
She approached the bed.
“You remember me?”
He nodded.
Audrey sat.
“You’re in a hospital.”
Another nod.
“You’re safe.”
His fingers caught her sleeve.
Behind her, Dorian whispered:
“Son.”
Eli looked at him.
Tears filled his eyes.
Then he said something that silenced every adult in the room.
“Dad, I’m sorry.”
Dorian’s face went blank.
“For what?”
Eli swallowed.
“I wasn't supposed to see.”
Audrey looked toward Dorian.
Dorian crouched beside the bed but stopped several feet away.
“What did you see?”
The boy’s eyes moved toward Sabine standing at the doorway.
His entire body stiffened.
Then toward the hallway beyond her.
Eli covered his mouth with both hands.
“No.”
Dorian followed the look.
Sabine stepped closer.
“Sweetheart, you're confused.”
Eli began shaking harder.
Audrey raised one hand.
“Please stay back.”
Sabine stared at her.
“I’m his stepmother.”
“And he’s frightened.”
“Of the hospital.”
“No.”
Audrey looked directly at her.
“He was calming down until you moved.”
Dorian slowly stood.
Sabine turned toward him.
“You cannot seriously be listening to a stranger over your wife.”
Dorian’s answer was quiet.
“I’m listening to my son.”
Then a hospital security officer appeared.
“Mr. Ashford?”
“Yes?”
“Your brother is downstairs.”
Sabine stopped breathing.
Dorian noticed.
So did Audrey.
“Landon?”
“Yes.”
“He says he heard what happened and came immediately.”
Eli made a sound.
Not a word.
A terrified little gasp.
Then he buried his face against Audrey’s arm.
Dorian looked at his son.
Then at Sabine.
Then toward the elevator where his brother was coming up.
And the most dangerous man in New Orleans suddenly understood something far worse than an enemy getting through his gates.
May you like
Whatever Eli had seen before somebody drugged him and took him toward the river—
he had seen it inside his own family.
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