Chapter 4 - THE NURSE WHO FOUND THE MISSING HOUR
The hospital records revealed something strange.
Desmond had been discharged at 10:15 a.m.
The transport van exploded at 11:42.
But its official journey log contained a gap.
From 10:36 until 11:29, there was no location record.
Sadi sat at the kitchen table with Frankie and Desmond.
“Where was the van during that hour?”
Frankie frowned.
“We took the west route.”
“Then why does the record say you left the highway?”
“We didn't.”
Sadi pointed to the document.
“Someone changed the route history.”
Frankie leaned closer.
“That's impossible.”
“It's clearly possible, because we're looking at it.”
Desmond studied the report.
“Who maintained the vehicles?”
“Contracted fleet service,” Frankie answered.
“Who approved the contract?”
Frankie hesitated.
“Dr. Vale recommended the company.”
Sadi looked up.
“Your doctor?”
“He said they specialized in medical transport.”
Desmond's expression darkened.
***
Sadi did not investigate the vehicle herself. She persuaded Desmond to give the records to the detectives handling the bombing.
Then she returned to her actual job.
She helped organize his care schedule, coordinated appointments, and worked with the rehabilitation team to establish a safer routine.
Desmond disliked nearly every change.
He complained about pressure-relief reminders.
He complained about scheduled therapy.
He complained about having to discuss his symptoms with strangers.
Sadi listened to each complaint.
Then reminded him that he could refuse treatment, but he deserved accurate information before deciding.
One afternoon, after an exhausting session, Desmond sat beside the indoor pool.
Sadi brought him water.
“You're quieter than usual,” she said.
“I'm considering firing you.”
“Again?”
“You keep making me do things I hate.”
“Like participating in your own life?”
He looked at her.
Then laughed.
The sound echoed through the empty pool room.
Sadi smiled.
It was becoming easier to make him laugh.
That worried her.
Because she was beginning to look forward to it.
***
Three days later, a detective called.
The fleet contractor had been dissolved four months earlier.
Its registered owner was a shell company.
The shell company was connected to a private investment firm.
And the firm's controlling shareholder was Caleb Gallagher.
Desmond listened without moving.
When the call ended, he stared at the fireplace.
“My brother.”
Sadi sat across from him.
“That's a financial connection. Not proof he planted the bomb.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He looked at her sharply.
She didn't look away.
“Desmond, you can hate him. You can suspect him. But if you want the truth, you need evidence.”
His shoulders lowered.
After a long silence, he said:
“You sound like my mother.”
“Was she annoying?”
“Terribly.”
“Then I like her already.”
His expression softened.
“She died when I was twenty.”
“I'm sorry.”
He nodded.
“She tried to keep Caleb and me from becoming our father.”
“Did she succeed?”
Desmond looked toward the dark window.
“Not with me.”
Sadi waited.
Then he added:
“Maybe it's not too late.”
***
That night, Sadi's phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A man's voice said:
“Tell Desmond his brother wants to talk.”
Sadi sat upright.
“Who is this?”
“You know.”
“Caleb?”
A soft laugh.
“You're smarter than the others.”
“Then you'll understand why I'm hanging up.”
“Wait.”
Something in his tone stopped her.
“Ask Desmond what happened to our sister.”
Sadi froze.
“Your sister?”
The call ended.
She stared at the screen.
Then hurried to Desmond's office.
He looked up.
“What happened?”
She swallowed.
“Caleb called me.”
Desmond went still.
“What did he say?”
Sadi looked directly at him.
May you like
“He asked what happened to your sister.”
For the first time since she'd met him, Desmond Gallagher looked genuinely devastated.
