Chapter 9 - The Accident Twenty-Six Months Ago
Julian ordered Bellweather evacuated.
Victoria argued against it.
Gabriel agreed with Julian.
Claire supported evacuation for a different reason.
If the next “accident” was meant to occur at midnight, reducing the number of people inside the estate reduced the attacker’s options.
Staff left through three gates.
Security scanned vehicles.
Power systems were isolated.
Julian’s chair was replaced with a completely manual model.
No network connection.
No electronics.
At 11:56, only twelve people remained inside the main residence.
Claire.
Julian.
Victoria.
Gabriel.
Four trusted guards.
Two technicians.
Doctor Reeves.
And Julian’s attorney, Samuel Cole.
At 11:58, nothing happened.
At 11:59, everyone waited.
Midnight arrived.
Still nothing.
Claire released the breath she had been holding.
Then every light in Bellweather went out.
Emergency systems activated immediately.
A second later, the fire alarms began.
Gabriel shouted into his radio.
“Report!”
No answer.
Smoke appeared beneath a door.
Claire smelled it.
Then Julian said, “That isn’t smoke.”
“What?”
“Fog.”
A white cloud moved down the corridor.
Gabriel pulled his jacket over his mouth.
“Gas?”
Doctor Reeves stepped back.
“Could be.”
“Move!”
They entered the private dining room and sealed the doors.
Gabriel smashed a window.
Cold air rushed inside.
Julian remained calm.
Too calm.
Claire noticed.
“You expected this.”
“No.”
“You’re not surprised.”
“I’ve seen it before.”
Her stomach tightened.
“When?”
Julian looked toward the spreading white fog.
“Twenty-six months ago.”
The night of the crash.
Julian finally told them everything.
Before his car lost steering, ventilation vents had filled with a sweet-smelling vapor.
His driver became disoriented.
Dane nearly unconscious.
Julian had opened a window.
That was why he remembered the curve.
Why he remembered the black SUV.
Why he survived with a clearer memory than the others.
“The investigators never found gas.”
Gabriel said, “Because the vehicle burned after impact.”
Claire stared.
“So tonight is a message.”
Julian nodded.
“Someone wants me to remember.”
“Or panic,” Victoria said.
A loud mechanical sound came from beneath the house.
Then the building shook.
Claire grabbed the table.
“What was that?”
Gabriel looked toward the floor.
“Generator.”
The emergency generator had shut down.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Only phones remained.
Claire switched hers on.
No service.
“Signal jammer,” Gabriel said.
Victoria laughed nervously.
“Of course.”
Julian said, “Someone wants us isolated.”
Claire thought of Andrew’s video.
Stop trusting the person who keeps surviving.
What if that sentence did not identify a person?
What if it identified a pattern?
Someone repeatedly survived because they controlled the accidents.
Claire looked around.
Julian survived the crash.
Gabriel survived years investigating.
Victoria survived accusations.
But there was another survivor.
Doctor Hartwell.
He had treated Julian after the crash.
He was at the lake.
He had advised guests not to intervene.
And nobody had asked where he was now.
Claire turned to Gabriel.
“Where’s Hartwell?”
“At his residence.”
“Are you sure?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“No.”
A phone rang.
Not Claire’s.
Not Julian’s.
Victoria’s.
She looked at the screen.
“Mother.”
Everyone froze.
She answered.
“Mom?”
A woman whispered.
“Victoria?”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Who has you?”
Silence.
Then Eleanor Vescari spoke.
“David.”
Julian frowned.
“David who?”
Victoria repeated.
“Who is David?”
Eleanor’s breathing became uneven.
“Your father’s friend.”
Julian’s face changed.
Claire saw recognition.
“David Hartwell.”
The line disconnected.
Claire stared at Julian.
“Your doctor?”
“He was my father’s physician first.”
Victoria whispered, “He delivered Julian.”
Claire felt the shape of the conspiracy change again.
Doctor Hartwell was not an outsider.
He had been inside the family for decades.
He knew medical records.
He knew Julian’s vulnerabilities.
He advised the board.
He had access to medication.
Health evaluations.
Rehabilitation equipment.
And through medical necessity, perhaps even Julian’s wheelchair.
Gabriel called his team.
Still no signal.
Claire moved toward the door.
Julian said, “Where are you going?”
“Outside.”
“Gas.”
“It’s theatrical fog.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know the windows in the west hall open.”
She used a cloth over her mouth.
Gabriel followed.
They moved through the corridor.
The fog smelled faintly sweet.
Claire’s heart raced.
At the west hall, she opened two windows.
Fresh air rushed in.
Gabriel located the security panel.
“Jammer source is inside the building.”
“Can you locate it?”
“Roughly.”
“Where?”
He checked.
“Medical wing.”
Claire looked at him.
Hartwell’s office.
They moved quickly.
The medical wing door was unlocked.
Inside, emergency lamps glowed.
Gabriel opened Hartwell’s consultation room.
Empty.
Claire searched drawers.
Nothing.
Then she noticed a red light beneath the desk.
A small transmitter.
Gabriel unplugged it.
Phone signals immediately returned.
Dozens of alerts appeared.
One came from Bellweather’s automated security system.
DOOR OPEN — GARAGE LEVEL 3.
Julian was on the ground floor.
The underground garage was beneath him.
Claire called.
No answer.
They ran.
When Claire reached the dining room, it was empty.
The broken window remained open.
Victoria’s phone lay on the floor.
Julian’s manual wheelchair was overturned.
No blood.
No sign of struggle.
Only tire marks leading into the hallway.
Claire followed.
Elevator.
Garage level 3.
She and Gabriel descended.
The doors opened.
A black SUV accelerated toward the exit.
Claire saw Julian through the rear window.
Someone held him upright.
Beside him sat Doctor Hartwell.
Claire ran after the vehicle.
Impossible.
Gabriel drew his weapon but did not fire.
“Julian!”
The SUV vanished up the ramp.
Claire stood breathing hard.
Her phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
A photograph arrived.
Julian in the SUV.
Beneath it:
NOW YOU KNOW WHO CAUSED THE FIRST ACCIDENT.
Claire stared.
Hartwell.
But another message followed.
OR DO YOU?
Then a live location pin appeared.
Warehouse 17.
Claire looked at Gabriel.
“They’re taking him to Andrew.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Warehouse 17 burned down eight months ago.”
Claire looked at the map.
The pin remained active.
Then Gabriel added the detail that made Claire’s stomach drop.
“It burned the same night I received proof Andrew was dead.”
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And so the place where Andrew had supposedly died was now exactly where Julian was being taken.
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