Chapter 6 - The Nurse Who Never Resigned
Claire looked from Nicholas to Hannah and back again.
"I did not say your legs were moving."
"You said spasms again."
"You have had muscle spasms since rehabilitation."
"Not in my feet."
Claire's expression flickered.
"How would I know the difference?"
Nicholas leaned back in his chair.
"That is what I am asking."
Daniel Cho quietly covered Nicholas's legs with the blanket.
Claire noticed the movement.
"And you are?"
"Daniel Cho."
"From which furniture company?"
Daniel looked at Nicholas.
Nicholas looked at Hannah.
Hannah decided the lie had lived long enough.
"He is a physical therapist."
Claire's face went blank.
"You brought another clinician into this house without telling Marcus?"
"Nicholas authorized it."
Claire turned on him.
"Why?"
"Second opinion."
"On what?"
"My body."
Claire stared at him.
"We already have one of the best neurologists in Illinois."
"Then another opinion should not frighten anyone."
Her face softened so quickly it was almost frightening.
"I am not frightened."
She stepped closer and crouched beside him.
"I am worried you are exhausting yourself because Hannah is feeding you false hope."
Nicholas's eyes hardened.
Hannah spoke before he could.
"Daniel did not promise recovery."
Claire did not look at her.
"I was not speaking to you."
"You were speaking about me."
Claire stood.
"This is exactly what Marcus warned me about."
Nicholas's voice cut through the room.
"Enough."
Everyone stopped.
He looked at Daniel.
"Finish your report."
Then at Hannah.
"Get the independent tests arranged."
Finally he looked at Claire.
"And stop calling my doctor before speaking to me."
Claire's eyes filled with hurt.
"I am trying to protect you."
"Then protect me by respecting me."
She left without another word.
The door closed softly.
Daniel waited three seconds.
"Furniture consultant?"
Nicholas looked at him.
"You wanted confidentiality."
Daniel laughed once.
"I like him," he told Hannah.
"Do not encourage him."
By noon, Daniel had arranged an appointment for the following evening at a private diagnostic center in Evanston.
The appointment would not appear in Nicholas's usual hospital system until after completion.
That bought them twenty-four hours.
Hannah intended to use every one of them.
She started with Amanda Sloane.
Walter claimed he did not know where the former nurse had gone.
Hannah did not believe him.
At lunch she searched nursing-license records and found Amanda still registered in Illinois.
Then she found a professional profile under the name Amanda Sloane Patel.
She worked at a rehabilitation clinic in Oak Park.
Hannah called from the estate kitchen.
A receptionist answered.
"Oak Park Mobility Center."
"May I speak with Amanda Patel?"
"May I ask who is calling?"
"Hannah Reed."
There was a pause.
"One moment."
Thirty seconds later a woman answered.
"This is Amanda."
"My name is Hannah Reed."
"I heard."
Hannah tightened her grip on the phone.
"I am working for Nicholas Valenti."
The line went silent.
Then Amanda hung up.
Hannah called again.
The receptionist said Amanda was unavailable.
Hannah tried once more from another number.
No answer.
That evening she told Walter she was taking two hours off.
He looked at her coat.
"Where are you going?"
"Dinner."
"With whom?"
"You are not my father."
"No."
Walter's eyes narrowed.
"Your father probably asked fewer questions."
Hannah left before he could ask another.
She drove to Oak Park.
Amanda's clinic closed at seven.
At 7:08, a woman in dark green scrubs came out through the employee entrance.
She was in her mid-thirties, with dark hair pulled into a low ponytail.
Hannah stepped from her car.
"Amanda?"
The woman stopped.
Fear crossed her face before recognition could.
"I told you not to call me."
"You hung up before telling me anything."
"That was me telling you something."
She walked toward a gray sedan.
Hannah followed.
"Someone changed Nicholas's medication."
Amanda stopped.
Hannah saw the answer in her shoulders.
"You knew."
Amanda unlocked the car.
"Go home."
"He is getting weaker after certain doses."
Amanda's hand froze on the door handle.
"Go home."
"He had confusion last night."
"Stop."
"You reported missing medication."
Amanda spun around.
"Who told you that?"
"Walter."
Amanda laughed bitterly.
"Of course he did."
"Was he lying?"
"Not about that."
"Then tell me what happened."
Amanda looked across the parking lot.
Only three cars remained.
A train sounded in the distance.
"I had a daughter," Amanda said.
Hannah did not understand.
"Had?"
"I still have her."
Amanda swallowed.
"But for three days I thought someone was going to take her away."
Hannah's skin went cold.
"Who?"
"I do not know."
"What happened?"
Amanda opened the car door but did not get in.
"I found a pill in Nicholas's room that did not match the chart."
"What did it look like?"
"White."
Hannah thought of the replacement bottle.
"I put it in a specimen bag."
"The next morning it was gone."
"From a locked cabinet?"
"From my purse."
Hannah stopped breathing.
Amanda continued.
"That afternoon a man picked up my daughter from school."
"What?"
"He used my name."
"The school released her to a stranger?"
"He claimed he was my brother."
"And they believed him?"
"He had a copy of my driver's license and the emergency contact form."
Hannah felt nausea rise in her throat.
"Where did he take her?"
"Two blocks away."
Amanda's voice shook now.
"He bought her ice cream."
"Then he brought her back to the school office and told her he had made a mistake."
"She thought it was funny."
"I did not."
Hannah understood.
The message had not been abduction.
The message had been access.
"Did you call police?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"Nothing useful."
Amanda looked at her.
"That night I received a photograph of my daughter asleep in her bedroom."
Hannah's stomach twisted.
"No message?"
"One sentence."
Amanda's eyes filled.
"You saw the wrong pill."
Hannah said nothing.
"I resigned the next morning."
"Walter said you recanted."
"Walter asked me to stay."
"I told him I had imagined everything."
"Then I moved."
"Twice."
Hannah thought of Ethan.
Eight years old.
Small hands folding paper cranes at the kitchen table.
Her phone felt suddenly heavy in her pocket.
Amanda saw her face.
"You have someone."
It was not a question.
Hannah did not answer.
Amanda stepped closer.
"A child?"
"My brother."
"Then quit tonight."
"I cannot."
"Yes, you can."
"He needs surgery."
Amanda's expression changed.
"And the Valenti insurance covers it."
Hannah stared at her.
"How did you know?"
Amanda looked away.
"Because they knew."
Hannah's heart hammered.
"Who knew?"
"The agency knew why you took the job."
"That is normal employment paperwork."
"Not like this."
Amanda opened her car and took out an old envelope.
"I was going to burn this."
Inside was a photocopy of an internal nursing-agency profile.
Hannah's name was printed across the top.
Under DEPENDENTS was Ethan's name, age, diagnosis category, insurance status, and pending surgical referral.
Someone had highlighted the words high financial vulnerability.
Hannah could barely speak.
"Where did you get this?"
"It was in a file on Walter Bell's desk the week before you started."
Hannah looked at her.
"You were still at the house?"
"I went back once to sign separation papers."
"Why keep it?"
"Because your name was on it."
Amanda's face tightened.
"I thought maybe I should warn you."
"But you did not."
"I was afraid."
The answer was honest enough to hurt.
Hannah folded the paper and put it in her bag.
She did not trust herself to speak for several seconds.
The page had turned Ethan into a vulnerability category.
Not a boy who hated peas.
Not a child who slept with one sock on and one sock off.
Not the eight-year-old who saved the marshmallows from his cereal because he believed dessert tasted better after homework.
Just leverage.
Hannah looked at Amanda.
"Did anyone ever ask you for information about me?"
Amanda shook her head.
"Not directly."
"What does that mean?"
"Two weeks after I left, someone from the agency called and asked whether I had kept copies of household records."
"Who?"
"A man who said he was conducting a security audit."
"Name?"
"He gave one."
"Do you remember it?"
Amanda thought.
"Michael Trent."
Hannah took out her phone and typed the name.
"Did you verify him?"
Amanda's face tightened.
"I was trying to forget that house."
Hannah understood the answer.
"What did he ask?"
"Whether I had photographed medications."
"Whether I had spoken with Walter."
"Whether Nicholas had ever mentioned Rebecca."
Hannah looked up sharply.
"Rebecca?"
Amanda nodded.
"That was the question that made me end the call."
The name connected too many rooms now.
Nicholas had whispered it while confused.
Claire somehow knew he had.
Walter had been suspicious since Rebecca died.
And someone pretending to conduct a security audit had asked a former nurse whether Nicholas still spoke about his sister.
This was not only about medication.
Someone was afraid of a dead woman's name.
"One more question."
Amanda shook her head.
"Please."
"Did Nicholas ever move his feet while you worked for him?"
Amanda stared at her.
That was the reaction Hannah had feared.
"Why?"
"Answer me."
Amanda looked over both shoulders.
"Once."
Hannah felt the parking lot disappear around her.
"When?"
"About four months ago."
"What happened?"
"He missed an evening dose because he was vomiting."
Hannah's mouth went dry.
"And?"
"The next morning his right foot moved."
"Did you tell Hale?"
Amanda's face went pale.
"That is the last thing I told him before I found the strange pill."
A car turned into the parking lot.
Its headlights swept across them.
Amanda stepped backward immediately.
"Go."
"Amanda--"
"Go home and get your brother."
She got into her car and locked the doors.
Hannah stood under the parking-lot light with the copied profile in her hand.
Her phone rang.
It was Ethan.
She answered instantly.
"Hey."
For two seconds she heard only breathing.
Then Ethan whispered.
"Hannah?"
"What happened?"
"There is a man outside our apartment."
Hannah's blood turned cold.
"Where are you?"
"In the bedroom."
"Is the door locked?"
"Yes."
"Do not open it for anyone."
A knock sounded through Ethan's phone.
Three slow knocks.
Then a man's voice came from the hallway.
"Ethan Reed?"
Hannah stopped breathing.
The man knocked again.
May you like
"I have something from your sister."
