Chapter 3 - THE DEAD DOCTOR’S SECRET
Everyone believed Pierce had named his killer.
Gabriel did not.
The letters were too convenient.
Marcus disappeared before sunrise.
His phone went dead.
His car was found near the marina.
Vivian demanded increased security.
Gabriel ordered the opposite.
“Open the gates.”
She stared at him.
“Gabriel, someone murdered your doctor.”
“Yes.”
“And Marcus is missing.”
“Yes.”
“You're vulnerable.”
There it was.
Vulnerable.
A word everyone had started using after the bullet.
Gabriel hated it.
“Leave security to me.”
Vivian's eyes hardened.
“You can't keep pretending nothing has changed.”
Gabriel looked at his wheelchair.
“No one lets me forget.”
That afternoon Lena Ortiz arrived secretly through the staff entrance.
She examined him for nearly three hours.
When she finished, she sat back.
“The original injury is serious.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“But someone has been suppressing whatever recovery you might have achieved.”
“Can I walk?”
“I don't know.”
“That's not good enough.”
“Medicine doesn't care what answer is good enough for Gabriel DeLuca.”
Claire, standing near the window, almost smiled.
Lena noticed.
“I like her.”
Gabriel ignored both women.
“What do I do?”
“Physical therapy. Daily. Painful, boring, humiliating physical therapy.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
They began that night.
Gabriel fell trying to stand.
Then fell again.
On the third attempt, he remained upright for four seconds between parallel bars.
Claire cried.
Gabriel pretended not to see.
Emma counted.
“One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi.”
Then Gabriel collapsed.
Emma considered this.
“Tomorrow five.”
Gabriel laughed despite himself.
“Tomorrow five.”
Meanwhile, Claire searched Pierce's belongings.
Inside an old medical textbook, she found a photograph.
Pierce.
Marcus.
And her husband, Ethan Bell.
Alive.
Together.
Taken three weeks before Ethan supposedly died.
Claire dropped the photograph.
Gabriel picked it up.
“Claire?”
She could barely speak.
“My husband didn't know them.”
Apparently, he had.
On the back, Pierce had written:
ETHAN FOUND THE SECOND ACCOUNT. IF I DIE, ASK CLAIRE ABOUT THE BLUE BOX.
Claire stared at the handwriting.
“What blue box?”
Then she remembered.
The box Ethan had given her the week before his death.
He had told her it contained useless paperwork.
Claire had never opened it.
It had been sitting beneath Emma's winter clothes for two years.
Inside they found photographs, shipping manifests and a flash drive.
And a letter.
Claire recognized Ethan's handwriting immediately.
Claire,
If anything happens to me, it wasn't an accident.
Don't go to the police.
Don't go to Gabriel.
Someone beside him is involved.
Take Emma and disappear.
Claire began shaking.
Gabriel read the final sentence.
The account numbers are hidden where Emma sleeps.
Both adults turned.
Emma's stuffed rabbit sat on the sofa.
Claire picked it up.
A hard object was sewn inside.
Gabriel cut the seam.
A tiny memory card fell into his palm.
And outside the window, a red laser dot appeared on Claire's chest.
Gabriel saw it first.
“DOWN!”
He threw himself from the wheelchair.
Glass exploded.
The bullet missed Claire by inches.
Emma screamed.
Gabriel covered the child with his body while guards rushed outside.
The shooter escaped.
But something else happened.
Something Gabriel did not understand until Claire stared at him.
“You moved.”
“What?”
“You moved your left leg.”
Gabriel looked down.
She was right.
He had.
Not much.
But enough to throw himself toward Emma.
Enough to save her.
His legs were waking up.
May you like
And somebody was willing to kill a three-year-old before they woke completely.
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