Chapter 2 - The Name He Wasn't Supposed to Say
Hannah did not answer him immediately.
Nicholas stared at her as if he were looking through her face and seeing someone standing several feet behind her.
"Rebecca?"
His voice was weaker the second time.
Hannah set the glass on the nightstand and checked his pupils again.
"Nicholas, look at me."
His gaze drifted toward the ceiling.
"What day is it?"
He swallowed.
"Tuesday."
It was Friday.
Hannah felt a cold pressure settle behind her ribs.
She checked his pulse, then the medication log clipped beside the bed.
Nothing on the chart explained the confusion.
His evening medication had been routine.
His blood pressure had been stable before midnight.
His temperature was normal.
There had been no new prescription, no documented dose change, and no note from his neurologist.
Yet Nicholas was sweating as if he had run a mile.
"Who is Rebecca?"
His eyes sharpened for one second.
Then his face changed.
Not confusion this time.
Fear.
"Do not say that name in this house."
Hannah stared at him.
"You said it first."
Nicholas closed his eyes.
"I was dreaming."
"You were awake."
"Then I was confused."
"That is exactly what concerns me."
His jaw tightened.
Even half-conscious, Nicholas Valenti hated being examined like a problem someone else might solve.
"Call the doctor if you need permission to worry."
"I do not need permission."
Hannah reached for the medication tray.
The water glass trembled slightly in Nicholas's hand.
She took it from him before it spilled.
"What did you take after dinner?"
"Whatever you gave me."
"I did not give you anything after ten."
His eyes opened.
That got his attention.
Hannah looked toward the small porcelain dish on the dresser.
It had been empty when she checked the room before midnight.
Now a faint white powder clung to its edge.
She crossed the room and picked it up.
Nicholas watched her.
"What is that?"
"I do not know yet."
She ran a clean gauze pad lightly over the residue and folded it into a specimen bag from her nursing kit.
"Who came in here after I left?"
Nicholas said nothing.
Hannah turned.
"Nicholas."
"Claire."
The answer came too quickly to be accidental.
Hannah's hand stopped.
"What did she want?"
"To see whether I was sleeping."
"Did she give you anything?"
His expression hardened.
"No."
Hannah waited.
Nicholas looked toward the dark window.
The lake beyond the glass was invisible except for a strip of silver moonlight.
"She brought tea."
"Did you drink it?"
"Half."
Hannah glanced at the empty cup on the desk.
She had not noticed it when she entered.
The cup was not part of his nighttime service.
"What kind of tea?"
"I did not ask for its biography."
"Humor me."
"Chamomile, I think."
Hannah lifted the cup by the handle.
A sweet smell lingered beneath the herbs.
Not strong.
Just unfamiliar.
She placed the cup inside a large plastic bag.
Nicholas watched that too.
"You are being dramatic."
"Maybe."
"Claire has brought me tea for years."
"Did you become disoriented for years?"
He said nothing.
Hannah checked the time.
2:17 a.m.
She called the on-call physician listed in Nicholas's file.
The call went directly to voicemail.
She tried again.
Nothing.
Then she called Dr. Marcus Hale, Nicholas's neurologist.
He answered on the fourth ring with the irritated breath of a man who believed sleep was a right other people were violating.
"Hale."
"Dr. Hale, this is Hannah Reed, Mr. Valenti's private nurse."
"What happened?"
"Acute confusion, diaphoresis, tremor, disorientation to date, possible unrecorded ingestion."
There was a pause.
"Possible what?"
"There is residue in a dish and an undocumented cup of tea in his room."
Hale sighed.
"He has episodes."
Hannah looked at Nicholas.
"There are no episodes documented in his chart."
"Then document this one."
"I want him evaluated tonight."
"For being confused after waking at two in the morning?"
"For being confused with tremor and sweating after a possible ingestion."
Another silence.
Then Hale's tone changed.
Not softer.
More careful.
"Who gave him the tea?"
Hannah felt the hair rise on her arms.
She had not said anyone gave him tea.
She had only said there was an undocumented cup in the room.
"Why?"
"Because I am his physician."
"Claire brought it."
Hale breathed out slowly.
"Then stop frightening everyone."
Hannah's grip tightened around the phone.
"Excuse me?"
"Claire knows his routine better than you do."
"Claire is not authorized to administer medication."
"Tea is not medication."
"Then you should have no objection to me sending the residue and the cup for testing."
The silence on the line lasted three seconds too long.
"Do not remove anything from that house without Mr. Valenti's written authorization."
Hannah looked at Nicholas again.
He had heard every word.
"Fine."
She held out the phone.
"Ask him."
Nicholas did not take it.
Hale spoke before he could.
"Hannah, put the cup down, monitor him, and call me if his symptoms worsen."
"They already worsened."
"You have been in that house less than six weeks."
"Symptoms do not care how long I have been employed."
"Neither do employment contracts."
The call ended.
Hannah stared at the phone.
Nicholas gave a humorless laugh.
"Now you know why I pay him so much."
"Because he is charming?"
"Because he is supposed to be very good."
"Those are not the same thing."
Hannah placed the bagged cup in her locked medication cabinet.
Then she took the evening pill organizer from the drawer.
One compartment was empty.
It should not have been.
She checked the medication administration record again.
The tablet scheduled for midnight was still marked as not given.
She had deliberately held it because Nicholas had been nauseated after dinner.
Someone had taken it anyway.
Hannah turned slowly.
"Did Claire open this drawer?"
Nicholas looked at the organizer.
"I did not see her."
"That was not my question."
"I do not know."
Hannah removed the entire organizer and locked it away.
"From now on, no one touches your medication except me."
Nicholas's expression went flat.
"This is my house."
"And that is my license."
"You think someone drugged me."
"I think something entered your body that is not on this chart."
"That is a careful sentence."
"I am a careful person."
He studied her for several seconds.
Then he looked toward the door.
"Rebecca was my sister."
Hannah did not move.
Nicholas's voice changed when he said the next words.
The arrogance disappeared.
So did the impatience.
"She died in the accident."
Hannah sat in the chair beside him.
"The same accident that injured you?"
"Yes."
"I am sorry."
"Do not be."
His eyes stayed on the darkness outside.
"You did not kill her."
Something in the way he said it made Hannah stop breathing for half a beat.
"Do you think someone did?"
Nicholas turned his head sharply.
The old danger appeared in his face.
"I think my sister is dead."
"That was not what I asked."
"And that is not something you are paid to ask."
Hannah stood.
"Then I will ask something I am paid to ask."
She held up the empty pill organizer.
"How many times have you woken up like this since the accident?"
Nicholas did not answer.
"Once?"
Silence.
"Five times?"
Still nothing.
Hannah watched his eyes.
"More than ten?"
His gaze dropped.
That was her answer.
She felt anger cut through the fear.
"Why is none of that in your chart?"
"Because it passes."
"That is not an answer."
"Because every time I mentioned it, Hale said it was trauma, pain medication, stress, sleep deprivation, grief, or all four together."
"And Claire?"
Nicholas's mouth tightened.
"Claire said I scared her when I talked about it."
Hannah almost laughed, but there was nothing funny in the room.
"So you stopped talking about it."
"People prefer a disabled man to be grateful and quiet."
"I do not."
He looked at her.
"I noticed."
By four in the morning, Nicholas's tremor had eased.
By five, he knew the date again.
At six, he was angry enough to insist nothing unusual had happened.
Hannah documented every symptom anyway.
She also made a second copy of the notes and slipped it into her personal bag.
At 6:40 a.m., while Nicholas slept, she went downstairs to the kitchen.
Claire was already there.
She wore a cream silk robe and held a cup of coffee with both hands.
Her hair was perfect.
Her face was calm.
She looked like a woman beginning a peaceful morning in a beautiful home.
"Rough night?" Claire asked.
Hannah stopped in the doorway.
"How did you know?"
Claire smiled.
"Nicholas has rough nights."
"You brought him tea."
"I often do."
"What was in it?"
Claire's smile faded by one degree.
"Tea."
"Anything else?"
"Honey."
"Medication?"
Claire set her cup down.
"Are you accusing me of something?"
"I am asking a medical question."
"Then ask his doctor."
"I did."
For the first time, Claire's eyes changed.
The reaction was tiny.
So tiny most people would have missed it.
Hannah did not.
"What did Marcus say?" Claire asked.
Not Dr. Hale.
Marcus.
Hannah kept her face still.
"He said to monitor him."
Claire relaxed.
"Then perhaps you should do that instead of interrogating me in my own kitchen."
Hannah turned to leave.
"Hannah."
She looked back.
Claire had picked up her coffee again.
Her voice was pleasant.
"Nicholas has been through enough."
"I agree."
"Then do not put ideas in his head because you want to feel important."
Hannah stared at her.
"I do not need him afraid of the people who love him."
"Neither do I."
Hannah walked out.
Ten minutes later, she opened the locked medication cabinet upstairs.
The bagged cup was still there.
The pill organizer was still there.
Everything appeared exactly where she had left it.
Then she noticed the medication bottle on the second shelf.
It had been turned around.
The pharmacy label faced the wall.
Hannah took it out.
The bottle looked identical to the one she had checked the previous afternoon.
Same patient.
Same drug name.
Same printed instructions.
But the lot number was different.
And the tablets inside were not the same color.
May you like
Someone had replaced Nicholas Valenti's medication bottle while Hannah was downstairs.
