Chapter 3 - THE SECOND TEST
The safe house overlooked a deserted stretch of the Massachusetts coast.
No staff.
No cameras connected to the Hayes network.
No address under Declan’s name.
Sarah sat at the kitchen table while Declan opened a medical kit.
“You need to tell me everything.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“That sentence has ruined more lives in my family than bullets.”
Sarah looked down.
“Dr. Weaver didn’t order the first toxicology test.”
“Who did?”
“I did.”
Declan stopped.
Sarah explained.
Three weeks earlier she had fainted in the office bathroom. She blamed pregnancy until she noticed something strange.
Her symptoms were worst Monday through Friday.
They eased on weekends.
So she bought a home water-testing kit.
The results showed contamination.
Then she secretly sent blood and hair samples to an independent laboratory.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know who I could trust.”
“You could trust me.”
“Could I?”
The question landed cleanly.
Declan said nothing.
Sarah’s eyes filled.
“You were negotiating to marry another woman.”
“I never agreed to marry Catherine.”
“You never publicly refused either.”
“I was buying time.”
“For what?”
“To dismantle the Bishop deal without starting a war.”
Sarah shook her head.
“You expect me to know things you never say.”
Declan set the medical kit down.
“That is fair.”
She looked surprised.
Declan Hayes did not often admit fault.
He crouched before her.
“I should have told you.”
His gaze dropped to her stomach.
“And you should have told me about our child.”
“Our child?”
“Yes.”
“You say that very easily now.”
“Nothing about this is easy.”
He gently touched the side of her belly.
Then stopped.
“May I?”
Sarah stared at him.
Slowly, she nodded.
His palm settled against her.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the baby moved.
Declan froze.
The most feared man in half the Boston waterfront looked as though someone had removed the floor beneath him.
“That was—”
“Yes.”
Again.
A tiny kick beneath his palm.
Declan bowed his head.
Sarah saw his eyes close.
When he looked up, something in him had changed.
“I will fix this.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No. But I can promise you won’t face it alone.”
His phone rang.
Thomas.
Declan answered.
“Where is Weaver?”
Thomas laughed softly.
“You’re asking the wrong question.”
“Try me.”
“Ask why Catherine was at the clinic.”
Declan glanced at Sarah.
Thomas continued.
“You think I’m your enemy because Sarah found my access logs. Convenient, isn’t it?”
“You threatened her.”
“I warned you.”
“You fired at us.”
“No, Declan.”
Silence.
“I came upstairs because someone told me Sarah was about to be killed.”
Declan’s expression changed.
Thomas said, “Those weren’t my shooters.”
“Then why cut the power?”
“I didn’t.”
“Prove it.”
“Check security protocol Omega Seven.”
Declan opened a secure application.
Omega Seven controlled emergency lockdown.
The command had indeed disabled the executive floor.
But Thomas’s credentials had not initiated it.
The authorization came from an older Hayes master key.
One Declan had believed destroyed.
His father’s.
Patrick Hayes had been dead for six years.
Sarah saw Declan’s face.
“What?”
He showed her.
“That’s impossible.”
“Yes.”
Thomas spoke through the phone.
“Someone has been using your father’s credentials for months.”
“Who has access?”
“One living person besides you.”
Declan already knew.
His mother.
Eleanor Hayes.
Sarah stared at him.
“No.”
Declan ended the call.
“Your mother likes me.”
“She likes everyone until they interfere with the family.”
“Declan—”
“She also wants the Bishop alliance.”
Sarah’s face changed.
At Christmas, Eleanor had poured her tea herself.
At a fundraiser, she had insisted Sarah take a scarf because Boston was too cold.
She had asked whether Sarah was dating anyone.
Whether she wanted children.
Sarah suddenly remembered something else.
“The vitamins.”
Declan turned.
“What vitamins?”
“Your mother gave them to me.”
“When?”
“Six weeks ago. She said I looked exhausted.”
Declan’s face emptied.
“Where are they?”
“My apartment.”
They drove back into Boston before dawn.
Declan insisted on entering Sarah’s apartment first.
Nothing looked disturbed.
Sarah retrieved a brown bottle from her bathroom.
Declan photographed the label and sent it to a private chemist.
The response arrived fourteen minutes later.
Do not ingest. Bring immediately.
Sarah sat down.
Declan stared at the bottle in his hand.
“My mother.”
“Maybe she didn’t know.”
“She gave them to you.”
“That doesn’t prove she poisoned them.”
A knock sounded.
Declan raised his weapon.
Three slow knocks.
Two fast.
Thomas’s old signal.
Declan opened the door.
Thomas Callahan entered alone.
He looked exhausted.
And furious.
Sarah instinctively stepped behind Declan.
Thomas noticed.
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve worse,” Declan said.
Thomas reached into his coat.
Declan aimed.
Thomas carefully removed a folder.
“I found this in Catherine Bishop’s hotel room.”
He placed it on the table.
Inside were photographs of Sarah.
Leaving the obstetrician.
Buying prenatal vitamins.
Entering her apartment.
There was also a copy of her ultrasound.
Declan’s hands tightened.
Then Sarah saw the final photograph.
It showed Catherine meeting someone outside a private club.
The person’s face was partially hidden.
But the ring on the hand was unmistakable.
A black onyx signet ring.
The Hayes family crest.
Declan looked at Thomas.
“My mother?”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
He turned the photograph over.
A name had been written on the back.
MICHAEL HAYES.
Declan stared.
Sarah knew that name.
Everyone in Boston did.
Michael Hayes.
Declan’s older brother.
The man whose death had made Declan head of the family twelve years earlier.
Sarah whispered, “Your brother is dead.”
May you like
Thomas looked at Declan.
“That’s what your father told us.”
