Chapter 3 - A House Full of Listening Walls
The door clicked shut behind Chloe.
Not locked.
But the sound still made my body tense.
Ethan remained near the entrance, one hand resting inside his trouser pocket.
His expression was pleasant.
Too pleasant.
“What’s in the syringe?” I asked.
He glanced toward Richard.
“Medication.”
“What medication?”
“Something prescribed.”
“By whom?”
“Dr. Halpern.”
“Then there should be a label.”
Ethan shrugged.
“Maybe Chloe removed the packaging.”
“I didn’t,” Chloe said.
Interesting.
Ethan looked at her.
For just a fraction of a second, irritation crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
Richard watched from the bed with the dull, tired expression everyone expected from him.
“What is everyone arguing about?” he asked weakly.
Ethan turned toward him.
“Nothing.”
Richard blinked slowly.
“Maya?”
I understood immediately.
He was performing.
So I performed too.
“I found an empty syringe and wanted to make sure I hadn't missed something on your medication schedule.”
Ethan relaxed slightly.
“Exactly.”
He reached out.
“Give it to me.”
I held the syringe.
“I need to document it.”
His smile stopped.
“Why?”
“Because I am responsible for his daily care.”
“We pay you to follow instructions.”
“No. You pay me to care for him safely.”
Chloe stepped closer.
“It was a vitamin injection.”
“Which vitamin?”
“B12.”
“What dosage?”
She hesitated.
That was all I needed.
“I’ll note it in his record.”
Ethan’s voice became colder.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Yes, it will.”
Richard coughed.
“Maya.”
I looked at him.
His eyes met mine.
Stop.
I understood.
I placed the syringe on the table.
“If the prescription information is provided tomorrow, I’ll add it then.”
Ethan picked it up.
“Good.”
He and Chloe left.
We waited.
Thirty seconds.
One minute.
Two.
Richard whispered, “Bathroom.”
I pushed his chair inside and closed the door.
This time, I turned on the shower before speaking.
“You stopped me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Ethan was about to fire you.”
“Maybe I should be fired.”
Richard stared at me.
“You mean leave?”
“I mean call the police.”
“With an empty syringe?”
“With suspicious medication.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It may be enough for testing.”
“You surrendered it.”
“Because you told me to.”
Richard closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
“I couldn’t risk Ethan realizing you believe me.”
“He already suspects.”
“Suspicion is survivable.”
I folded my arms.
“And certainty isn’t?”
“Not in this house.”
His words landed heavily.
“What did your previous caregiver actually see?”
“My hand move.”
“You said Ethan fired her.”
“He did.”
“What was her name?”
“Marissa Cole.”
“Have you tried contacting her?”
“Yes.”
“No answer?”
“No.”
“Does she have family?”
“A sister in Milwaukee.”
“Did you contact her?”
Richard looked uncomfortable.
“My security director did.”
“The missing one.”
“Yes.”
I rubbed my temples.
“This keeps getting worse.”
“I know.”
“Do you have any evidence that doesn't disappear?”
Richard gave a humorless smile.
“Not yet.”
“Then we need some.”
The next morning, I started documenting everything.
Every tablet.
Every meal.
Every visitor.
Every time Richard appeared abnormally drowsy.
I used a notebook that never left my possession.
At breakfast, Chloe placed three pills beside his plate.
“Dr. Halpern changed his schedule.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Where’s the order?”
“She printed it.”
Ethan appeared behind her.
“I’ll have the office send it.”
“Thank you.”
He gave me a long look.
I gave him a polite smile.
Richard swallowed the pills.
Or appeared to.
Later, privately, he handed two of them to me.
“You can't keep doing that without knowing what they are.”
“I know.”
I photographed the tablets.
Dr. Pierce called an hour later.
He could identify one from the markings.
A powerful muscle relaxant.
The second required laboratory analysis.
“Can you come sooner than Saturday?” I asked.
“What’s happening?”
“I need an independent assessment.”
He hesitated.
“Tomorrow. Five thirty in the morning.”
“That works.”
I gave him directions to the service entrance.
That afternoon, Eleanor found me in the kitchen.
“You’re settling in?”
“I think so.”
She poured tea.
“Richard seems calmer.”
“He’s adjusting.”
She studied me.
“My son used to fill every room he entered.”
There was sadness in her voice.
“After the accident, he became quieter.”
“That’s understandable.”
“Ethan says Richard sometimes imagines people are against him.”
There it was again.
The same warning.
Almost identical language.
“Do you believe that?”
Eleanor didn’t answer immediately.
“I believe trauma changes people.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Her eyes lifted.
For the first time, I saw something beneath the elegant composure.
Fear.
“Maya.”
“Yes?”
“Do your job.”
I waited.
“Nothing more.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means this family has endured enough.”
She left her untouched tea on the counter.
That night, Richard asked what she had said.
I told him.
He looked genuinely hurt.
“My mother knows something.”
“You’re sure?”
“She never speaks like that.”
“Maybe she’s afraid.”
“Of Ethan?”
“Maybe.”
Richard looked toward the closed bedroom door.
“My father died six years ago. Ethan always believed Dad favored me.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
I appreciated the direct answer.
“Why?”
“I worked harder.”
“That sounds modest.”
“It isn't meant to.”
He almost smiled.
“Ethan wanted everything immediately. Titles. Money. Authority. Dad refused to hand them to him.”
“And you founded your own company.”
“With Dad’s first fifty-thousand-dollar investment.”
“That’s still help.”
“It was.”
He paused.
“I paid him back within eighteen months.”
“So Ethan resented you.”
“Resentment isn't attempted murder.”
“No.”
I sat across from him.
“But money can turn resentment into motive.”
Richard nodded.
“The company is valued at several hundred million.”
“And who controls it if you’re incapacitated?”
“Temporarily, Ethan.”
“There it is.”
“Not entirely.”
“What?”
“If I die, control does not automatically pass to him.”
“Who gets it?”
“A trust.”
“For whom?”
“My mother has lifetime beneficiary rights. After her death, the controlling shares go to a medical research foundation.”
That complicated things.
“So Ethan needs you alive but incapacitated.”
Richard looked at me.
“Exactly.”
The realization chilled me.
“If you're dead, he loses control.”
“Yes.”
“But if you're disabled indefinitely—”
“He can act as executive proxy.”
“And collect compensation?”
“Very substantial compensation.”
I leaned back.
“That’s motive.”
“It’s not proof.”
“But it explains the medications.”
“Possibly.”
A soft electronic sound came from beneath the side table.
Beep.
We both froze.
“What was that?” I whispered.
Richard pointed.
I crouched.
Nothing.
Then I looked beneath the table.
A small black object was attached to the underside.
No larger than a coin.
I pulled my hand back.
“Camera?”
“Maybe microphone.”
Richard’s face turned pale.
“Don’t touch it.”
I stood.
“How long has that been there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then everything we’ve said—”
“I know.”
For several seconds we stared at each other.
Had they heard everything?
The bathroom conversations?
The plan for Dr. Pierce?
My questions about the medication?
Richard whispered, “We need to act normal.”
“Now?”
“Immediately.”
He raised his voice.
“Maya, could you get my evening medication?”
I understood.
“Of course.”
I walked toward the cabinet.
Richard continued loudly.
“My brother worries too much.”
“He cares about you,” I replied.
The words tasted bitter.
“Yes.”
I prepared the usual routine.
Ten minutes later, we heard footsteps.
Ethan entered without knocking.
“Maya.”
“Yes?”
“There’s been a change of plans.”
My heart started pounding.
“What change?”
“Tomorrow morning, Richard is being transferred.”
Richard looked surprised.
“Transferred where?”
Ethan smiled.
“A private rehabilitation facility.”
My blood ran cold.
“When?”
“Five in the morning.”
Exactly thirty minutes before Dr. Pierce was supposed to arrive.
Richard and I exchanged the smallest possible glance.
Someone had heard us.
May you like
And whoever was listening had decided we were running out of time.
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