Chapter 4 - THE DRIVER WHO WASN’T HERS
Manuel lunged between the front seats before the sedan reached the first curve.
The driver jerked the wheel.
The car crossed the center line and struck the gravel shoulder.
Rosalie braced one hand against the door while Veronica grabbed the back of the passenger seat.
The driver’s gloved elbow hit Manuel beneath the jaw.
Pain flashed through his face.
He caught the man’s wrist and saw a small black device strapped beneath the glove.
It resembled a remote starter.
A red light blinked on its side.
“Let go of the wheel,” Manuel said.
The driver answered by accelerating.
Trees rushed past the windows.
The narrow estate road curved toward East Ridge, where the ground dropped steeply beyond the guardrail.
Veronica reached beneath her coat and removed a small pistol.
Rosalie flinched at the sight of it.
Veronica aimed toward the ceiling rather than the driver.
“Take your foot off the gas.”
The driver laughed.
“Mr. Durham said you would threaten before shooting.”
Veronica fired once into the roof.
The explosion inside the car stunned everyone.
The driver’s foot lifted instinctively.
Manuel forced the steering wheel left and reached for the ignition.
The engine did not shut off.
The red light on the driver’s wrist flashed faster.
“He has remote control,” Maya said through the phone, her voice distorted by the struggle.
“Cut the power if you can.”
“The battery is in the trunk,” Veronica shouted.
“Of course it is,” Manuel said.
Rosalie leaned forward between the seats.
She seized the medical case from the floor and swung it against the driver’s temple.
The case struck with a dull crack.
The driver lost control for half a second.
The sedan spun across the road and hit the guardrail sideways.
Metal screamed.
The windows filled with black sky.
The car stopped with its right wheels hanging over the edge.
No one moved.
Loose glass fell from the damaged roof and landed across Veronica’s coat.
The driver groaned and reached toward his wrist device.
Rosalie hit him with the medical case again.
His hand dropped.
Manuel climbed over the center console and pulled the emergency brake.
The car shifted several inches toward the drop.
“Everyone out on the left,” he said.
The rear door remained locked.
Veronica fired into the locking mechanism.
The blast opened a hole through the trim.
Manuel kicked the door.
Cold air rushed inside.
Veronica climbed out first and held the frame while Rosalie crawled after her.
Manuel dragged the unconscious driver across the console.
The man was larger than he appeared from the rear seat.
Manuel pulled him through the door just as the guardrail bent beneath the sedan.
The car tipped nose-first over the ridge.
Its headlights swept across the trees below.
Then it disappeared.
Several seconds later, a distant impact echoed through the ravine.
Veronica stared down at the darkness.
“That was a new car,” she said.
Manuel looked at her.
She lifted one shoulder.
“Shock makes everyone stupid.”
Rosalie sat on the frozen ground with the medical case beside her.
Her breathing had become shallow again.
Manuel crouched in front of her.
“Where are you hurt?”
“I’m not.”
“You are shaking.”
“So are you.”
He looked at his hands.
She was right.
Maya’s voice came from the phone somewhere inside his jacket.
“Is everyone alive?”
“Yes,” Manuel said.
“The driver is unconscious.”
“Check his pockets.”
Veronica searched him while Manuel opened the medical case.
Inside were three syringes, sealed vials, gauze, a blood-pressure cuff, and a leather folder bearing Dr. Voss’s initials.
Rosalie recoiled from the syringes.
Manuel closed the lid halfway.
“You do not have to look.”
“I need to.”
Her voice was quiet but firm.
She lifted one vial toward the moonlight.
A printed pharmacy label identified a strong sedative.
The patient name had been typed as Rosalie D. Nelson.
The prescription date was three days before the wedding.
Veronica read it over her shoulder.
“He prepared the medication before you were legally a Nelson.”
“Before I was his patient,” Rosalie said.
“You have been his patient on paper since you were eleven,” Veronica replied.
Manuel turned toward his mother.
“How do you know that?”
She looked down at the unconscious driver.
“Because Thomas found Voss’s records twenty-two years ago.”
“My father knew?”
“Your father knew too much and acted too late.”
The words cut through the night more sharply than the gunshot had.
Manuel stood.
“You told me he died because he was driving too fast in the rain.”
“I told you what the police told me.”
“Lorelei’s journal says he found evidence beneath Parcel Nine.”
Veronica’s face lost color.
“You found the journal.”
“Why does everyone know it exists except me?”
“Because you were twelve when Thomas died.”
“I am not twelve now.”
“No.”
“You are standing on the same road where someone just tried to send you over a cliff.”
“That is why I kept you out of it.”
Manuel laughed once without humor.
“You arranged my marriage into it.”
Veronica took the accusation without blinking.
“I arranged access to Durham contracts.”
“Emmett proposed the marriage after Rosalie’s trustees raised concerns about his control.”
“I believed the marriage gave us leverage.”
“You believed wrong.”
“I know.”
Rosalie closed the case and rose carefully.
“Argue later.”
“Headlights are coming.”
A vehicle appeared around the distant bend.
Maya spoke quickly.
“Sheriff units are responding to a reported crash.”
“I cannot tell whether Emmett reached them first.”
Veronica found a wallet in the driver’s coat.
The identification named him Warren Pike, a licensed private paramedic employed by Voss Medical Services.
His phone contained one recent message.
DELIVER ALL THREE TO EAST RIDGE CLINIC.
NO COUNTY CONTACT.
The sender was listed only as E.D.
Manuel photographed the screen.
“Send everything to me,” Maya said.
“Already done.”
The approaching vehicle slowed.
A county sheriff’s SUV stopped twenty yards away.
A deputy stepped out with one hand near his holster.
“Stay where you are.”
Veronica placed the pistol on the ground and raised her hands.
“My name is Veronica Nelson.”
“We were abducted by this man.”
The deputy’s flashlight moved across Rosalie’s damaged gown.
Then it moved to Manuel.
“Mr. Nelson, step away from your wife.”
Rosalie stepped closer to him instead.
“I am here voluntarily.”
The deputy did not lower the light.
“We received a report that you were experiencing a psychiatric emergency and had been removed from Pinecrest against medical advice.”
“Who made the report?” Manuel asked.
“Emmett Durham.”
“Did he mention sending a paramedic to drive us off a ridge?”
The deputy glanced toward Warren Pike.
A second patrol vehicle arrived.
This one carried an older sergeant named Elena Ruiz, according to the badge on her coat.
She surveyed the damaged guardrail, the medical case, the unconscious driver, and Veronica’s pistol.
Then she looked directly at Rosalie.
“Ma’am, do you know where you are?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know today’s date?”
Rosalie answered.
“Do you want to return to Pinecrest?”
“No.”
“Do you want medical care?”
“Yes, from someone who does not work for my father.”
Ruiz nodded once.
She ordered the younger deputy to call an ambulance from the county hospital.
Manuel felt some of the pressure in his chest ease.
Then Ruiz’s radio crackled.
Dispatch reported an active warrant request from Dr. Harlan Voss under the state’s emergency mental-health statute.
The deputy looked at Rosalie differently after that.
Ruiz did not.
“Has a judge signed it?” she asked.
“Negative,” dispatch answered.
“Then it is a request, not a warrant.”
She turned off the radio.
“You have ten minutes before Durham’s lawyers start calling everyone above me.”
“Where do you need to go?”
Maya answered through the phone.
“County General.”
“I will meet them there.”
Ruiz looked toward the device.
“Maya Chen?”
“Yes.”
“I remember your closing arguments.”
“Then you remember I hate losing evidence.”
Ruiz almost smiled.
The ambulance arrived seven minutes later.
A county paramedic treated Rosalie’s back and feet while Manuel remained beside her.
Veronica rode in the front.
Ruiz followed behind them.
Warren Pike was transported separately under guard.
For the first time, Rosalie was surrounded by medical workers who asked before touching her.
Each question seemed to surprise her.
At County General, Maya waited near the emergency entrance in a gray coat and white sneakers.
She was a small woman in her early forties with straight black hair cut at her jaw and eyes that seemed to evaluate every exit before every person.
She met the stretcher before the doors closed behind it.
“You kept the key?”
Manuel touched his pocket.
“Yes.”
“The journal?”
“Inside my shirt.”
“The medical case?”
Ruiz carried it through the entrance.
Maya nodded.
“Then we still have a chance.”
A television mounted above the waiting room changed to a breaking-news report.
Footage from Pinecrest filled the screen.
Emmett stood before the estate gates with Dr. Voss beside him.
He looked devastated in exactly the way wealthy men looked devastated when cameras were present.
“My daughter has suffered privately for many years,” he told reporters.
“Tonight, her new husband exploited a vulnerable moment and removed her from qualified care.”
Manuel stared at the screen.
The report cut to security footage from the greenhouse.
It showed him pulling Rosalie by the hand through the dark rows.
It did not show her opening the passage or speaking voluntarily.
The next image displayed a document signed by Dr. Voss.
EMERGENCY INCAPACITY CERTIFICATION.
The time stamp read 11:42 P.M.
Maya checked her watch.
It was 11:49.
“He signed it seven minutes ago,” she said.
Rosalie sat upright on the stretcher.
“Can he do that without examining me?”
“He just did.”
The television displayed a second document.
It bore the seal of the Durham Trust and the signature of its chairman, Gideon Wren.
TEMPORARY SUSPENSION OF BENEFICIARY CONTROL.
Effective immediately.
Maya’s expression hardened.
“They moved the deadline.”
“You said noon,” Manuel replied.
“It was noon until the trustees accepted an emergency certification.”
“Now we have to overturn it before the bank opens.”
“Why before the bank opens?”
Maya looked at the brass key inside his handkerchief.
May you like
“Because Emmett just became Lorelei’s legal successor.”
“If he reaches Box 317 first, every answer inside it disappears.”
