Chapter 2 - THE HAND THAT ANSWERED
Willa stared at Everett's hand.
She had spent three years being told that her judgment was unreliable. She had heard lawyers describe her as reckless and physicians describe her as incompetent. She had begun to question her own memories of the night Harold Fisk died.
But the pressure against her fingers was unmistakable.
“Everett,” she whispered, “I'm going to ask you something. If you understand me, squeeze once.”
A pause.
Then a faint movement.
Willa covered her mouth.
She wanted to cry.
Instead, she looked toward the door.
The hallway was quiet.
She bent closer.
“Do you know who I am?”
One squeeze.
“Do you know that we're married?”
Another squeeze.
A strange, breathless laugh escaped her.
“I'm sorry about that. Neither of us had much say in it.”
Everett's hand remained still.
Willa swallowed.
“Do you know Sterling?”
One squeeze.
“Are you afraid of him?”
The pressure came so sharply that she nearly gasped.
For eight months, Everett had been a prisoner inside his own body.
Now he had found one person who knew.
Willa leaned close.
“I'm going to help you. But we need to be careful.”
She paused.
“And I need you to understand something. I'm not a licensed nurse anymore. I can't safely manage what Whitfield has been giving you. We need independent medical help before anyone changes your treatment further.”
Everett squeezed once.
Willa exhaled.
For the first time since entering the estate, she had a plan that did not depend entirely on courage.
It depended on evidence.
And on finding someone Sterling could not buy.
The next morning, Willa discovered that Everett's bedroom had three cameras.
One above the doorway.
One facing the monitors.
And one hidden inside a decorative wooden panel near the fireplace.
She noticed the third because its tiny indicator reflected in the glass of a framed photograph.
She stopped immediately.
Someone had been watching.
Perhaps every moment.
Perhaps even the night Everett squeezed her hand.
Willa forced herself to behave normally.
She straightened the blanket.
Adjusted the curtains.
Read aloud from a book.
Then she took her notebook into the bathroom, the only room without a visible camera, and wrote down everything she remembered.
At eleven, Mr. Crowley entered.
“Mrs. Kane.”
Willa looked up.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Sterling requests your presence downstairs.”
“I'm sitting with Everett.”
“Your husband doesn't know whether you're here.”
Willa's fingers tightened around the book.
“You don't know that.”
Crowley gave her a thin smile.
“The doctor has been very clear.”
Willa stood.
“Then perhaps the doctor should be clearer about the medication he administers after midnight.”
Crowley's expression changed.
For one instant, she saw genuine alarm.
Then he recovered.
“You should be careful, Mrs. Kane.”
“About what?”
“Making accusations you cannot prove.”
He turned and walked out.
Willa watched him go.
She had revealed too much.
Sterling Kane waited in the breakfast room.
He wore a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. Sunlight fell across the silver cuff links resting beside his coffee cup.
“Willa,” he said warmly. “How are you settling in?”
She remained standing.
“Fine.”
“Is the room comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We want you to feel at home.”
She almost laughed.
Sterling gestured toward the chair opposite him.
“Sit.”
Willa obeyed.
He slid a folder across the table.
“These are routine household agreements.”
She opened it.
The first page restricted her ability to discuss Everett's medical condition with outsiders.
The second prohibited her from requesting independent evaluations without authorization from Sterling.
The third contained a confidentiality clause with financial penalties larger than anything she could earn in ten lifetimes.
Willa looked up.
“You want me to sign away my right to ask questions about my husband.”
Sterling smiled.
“Your husband is receiving excellent care.”
“Then another doctor should be able to confirm that.”
His smile disappeared.
“You're not qualified to make medical decisions.”
“No,” she answered. “But I'm qualified to be concerned.”
Sterling leaned forward.
“Let's remember why you're here.”
Willa went still.
He continued softly.
“Your mother's bills are being paid. Her room is secure. She's receiving the best care we can arrange.”
He paused.
“Don't make me regret my generosity.”
Willa closed the folder.
“I'll have an attorney review these.”
Sterling stared at her.
Then laughed.
“An attorney?”
“Yes.”
“With what money?”
She stood.
“That's my problem.”
For the first time, Sterling looked at her without pretending to be kind.
“You are becoming inconvenient.”
Willa met his eyes.
“So I've been told.”
That evening, she found an envelope beneath Everett's pillow.
There was no name.
Only a single sentence written in blue ink.
IF YOU WANT HIM TO LIVE, STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.
Willa read it twice.
Then folded it into her notebook.
Somebody in the house knew she was getting close.
And somebody wanted her frightened enough to stop.
She looked at Everett.
His eyes remained closed.
But when she took his hand, his finger moved.
One squeeze.
She whispered:
“I'm scared too.”
May you like
Then she pulled her chair closer.
“But I'm not leaving.”
