“She came home late. She was scared. I’ve never seen her scared before. She locked the door, closed all the curtains, and made me promise that if anything happened to her, I would come here.”
“To me?”
“To your cast.”
Adrian’s fingers tightened around the identification badge.
“What did she see?”
Leo glanced toward the doctors’ empty workstation.
“Not what she saw.”
He pointed again.
“What she put inside.”
Graham stepped forward.
“That’s enough.”
Adrian’s voice became cold.
“Sit down, Graham.”
“Adrian—”
“Sit.”
The attorney slowly returned to his chair.
Adrian looked at Leo.
“What did your mother put inside my cast?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because she left me a message.”
Leo reached into his pocket and produced an old phone with a cracked screen.
“My mother said there was evidence hidden where they couldn’t search without making you ask questions.”
Adrian looked down at his leg.
The cast suddenly felt heavier.
“What evidence?”
Leo shook his head.
“She didn’t say.”
The door opened.
Dr. Simon Kessler entered.
He was tall, silver-haired, immaculate even in surgical scrubs.
He stopped the instant he saw Leo.
For perhaps half a second, the distinguished surgeon looked terrified.
Then the expression disappeared.
“Security,” he said calmly, “remove the child.”
“No,” Adrian replied.
Kessler turned.
“Mr. Vale, this boy should not be here.”
“Apparently he disagrees.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
Kessler approached the bed.
“Your condition requires a stable environment.”
“My condition?”
“Your fracture.”
Adrian studied him.
“Show me today’s X-ray.”
Kessler hesitated.
“There’s no clinical reason for—”
“Show me.”
“We haven’t taken one today.”
“Then take one.”
Kessler’s face hardened.
“Unnecessary imaging exposes you to radiation without benefit.”
Adrian smiled faintly.
“I’ve invested four hundred million dollars into medical technology companies, Simon. Don’t talk to me as though one diagnostic X-ray is going to turn me into a lighthouse.”
Nobody laughed.
Kessler looked at Leo.
“What has he told you?”
“Enough to make me curious.”
“Children invent stories.”
Leo suddenly shouted, “Where is my mother?”
His voice cracked.
For the first time, the courage vanished from his face.
Underneath it was exactly what he had been all along.
An eleven-year-old child terrified that the person he loved most might never come home.
“Where is she?” he shouted again.
Kessler gave no answer.
Leo’s eyes filled with tears.
“You took her.”
“Leo,” Adrian said quietly.
But the boy backed toward the wall.
“You took her because she found out.”
“Found out what?” Adrian asked.
Leo stared at the cast.
Then he saw something near the fireplace.
A brass decorative sculpture sat on a stone pedestal—a heavy abstract figure shaped like a twisted circle.
Before anyone understood what he intended to do, Leo grabbed it.
“Stop!”
He ran toward the bed.
The guards lunged.
Adrian threw up a hand.
“Nobody touch him!”
Leo lifted the brass sculpture.
Kessler’s composure shattered.
“GET THAT AWAY FROM HIM!”
Too late.
Leo brought it down against the side of the cast.
CRACK.
A fracture appeared across the hardened shell.
Claire screamed.
Graham leapt backward.
The guards froze.
Adrian felt almost nothing.
That surprised him more than the blow.
Leo raised the sculpture again.
Kessler grabbed his arm.
“Stop!”
The boy fought desperately.
“Let me go!”
Adrian stared at the doctor.
“Simon.”
Kessler didn’t respond.
“Let go of him.”
“He’s endangering you.”
Adrian’s voice dropped.
“Then explain why you look more frightened than I am.”
Kessler slowly released Leo.
Nobody moved.
Adrian looked at the damaged cast.
“Break it.”
Claire whispered, “Mr. Vale…”
Adrian never looked away from Kessler.
“I said break it.”
Leo struck again.
CRACK.
A larger section split.
This time several pieces fell onto the blanket.
Underneath was white padding.
And beneath the padding—
black plastic.
Adrian stopped breathing.
It wasn’t medical equipment.
It was a narrow rectangular packet taped against the inside of the cast.
Leo dropped the sculpture.
“I told you.”
Kessler stepped backward.
Adrian pulled at the broken plaster himself.
“Don’t,” Kessler said.
Adrian ignored him.
He tore away another piece.
More black material became visible.
There were several packets.
One contained what appeared to be a flash-memory drive.
Another contained a tiny digital recorder.
The third held folded sheets of waterproof paper.
Adrian stared at them.
“Claire.”
The nurse began crying.
“Tell me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Tell me what this is.”
“I wasn’t part of it at the beginning.”
Graham stood.