Chapter 5 - THE POWER OF ATTORNEY
Derek held a blue folder in front of the camera.
The same folder Marianne had seen at the hospital.
“You gave me access to your phone, your accounts, and your medical decisions,” he said. “You also authorized emergency location services.”
Marianne said nothing.
Derek leaned closer to the screen.
“Where are you?”
“Why was Dr. Vale in my house?”
“He came to help you.”
“With what?”
“Your breakdown.”
Naomi motioned for Marianne to keep him talking.
Derek continued.
“You called him this afternoon. You accused him of stealing from you. Then the neighbors heard shouting.”
“I was at the hospital.”
“For less than ten minutes.”
“The cameras will show that.”
“They’ll show you entering the private wing. They won’t show when you left.”
Marianne remembered the service areas, the elevator cameras, the security network Derek could access.
“You changed the footage.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Who killed him?”
Derek’s face hardened.
“You always did this.”
“Did what?”
“Decided I was guilty before asking what happened.”
Marianne nearly laughed at the absurdity.
She had spent his entire life doing the opposite.
She had defended him after school suspensions, unpaid debts, broken engagements, and business failures. She had blamed teachers, girlfriends, employers, bad luck, and grief over his father.
Never Derek.
“Come home,” he said. “I can help you.”
“You are standing in my house beside a dead man.”
“Our house.”
“No.”
“You signed the transfer documents.”
Marianne’s pulse slowed.
“What transfer documents?”
“The lake property and the house.”
“I signed medical papers.”
“You signed what I put in front of you.”
There was no regret in his voice.
Only triumph.
Naomi wrote on a dusty notepad.
Ask about Rosewood.
Marianne nodded.
“Are you sending me to Rosewood Haven?”
Derek’s confidence faltered.
“Who told you that?”
“So it’s true.”
“You need help.”
“I need a lawyer.”
“You need treatment.”
“I heard you in the hospital room.”
Silence.
Derek’s eyes changed.
The performance ended.
“How much?”
Marianne understood immediately.
“How much what?”
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough.”
He stood and walked away from the police activity into the dining room.
His voice dropped.
“Listen carefully. Dr. Vale was involved with dangerous people. Whatever you think you heard, you do not understand the situation.”
“You told someone I would give you every penny if I believed you were dying.”
Derek closed his eyes briefly.
“That was a joke.”
“You laughed about selling your father’s watch.”
“I was under pressure.”
“You planned to take the lake property.”
“It should be mine.”
“Why?”
“Because Dad promised it to me.”
“He left it to me.”
“He left everything to you because he wanted to punish me.”
“For what?”
Derek looked over his shoulder.
“Come home and we’ll talk.”
“Tell me now.”
“I can’t.”
“Because the police are listening?”
“Because you are not safe with Naomi Hart.”
Naomi stiffened.
Marianne kept her voice steady.
“How do you know I’m with Naomi?”
Derek smiled faintly.
“I didn’t.”
The video ended.
Marianne stared at the dark screen.
“I gave him confirmation.”
“He already suspected,” Naomi said. “Now we move.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere your phone cannot find us.”
She took the device into the kitchen, placed it in the sink, and struck it repeatedly with a hammer until the screen shattered.
Marianne watched without protest.
Twenty minutes later, they left through the back door carrying the cassette, the black drive, and the ledger pages.
Naomi’s aunt’s old car sat beneath a tarp in the detached garage. The engine resisted before finally starting.
They drove west along narrow roads.
Marianne looked out at dark fields.
“Where are we going?”
“To someone who can read the documents you signed.”
“A lawyer?”
“A former probate judge.”
“Why would a judge help us?”
“Because he helped create the guardianship system they abused.”
Naomi glanced toward her.
“Judge Elias Mercer approved dozens of transfers to Rosewood Haven. He believed they were legal. When he discovered the truth, he tried to investigate.”
“What happened?”
“His wife was declared incompetent.”
Marianne turned toward her.
“Was she ill?”
“No.”
“Where is she now?”
“Rosewood.”
The judge lived in a farmhouse beyond the county line. Every exterior light was off.
Naomi knocked three times, paused, then knocked twice.
A voice spoke through the door.
“You were told never to come here.”
“I brought Marianne Cole.”
Locks moved.
The door opened.
Elias Mercer was in his seventies, tall but stooped, with deep lines around his mouth. He looked at Marianne for several seconds.
“You have Thomas’s eyes,” he said.
“You knew my husband?”
“I knew the man he became when he realized his son had helped monsters.”
Marianne entered without invitation.
The judge’s study contained stacks of legal files and newspaper clippings. Photographs of missing adults covered one wall.
Mercer examined copies of the documents Marianne remembered signing.
Naomi described their appearance and the witness names.
The judge searched a state database.
“Your house was transferred to Cole Medical Recovery Trust three days ago,” he said.
“Who controls the trust?”
“Derek.”
“And the lake property?”
“Transferred to North Ridge Holdings.”
“Who controls that?”
Mercer looked at Naomi.
“Conrad Pike.”
Marianne gripped the edge of the desk.
“Can we reverse it?”
“If we prove fraud.”
“How long?”
“Months.”
“I may be arrested tonight.”
“Then months are a luxury we do not have.”
He opened another file.
“There is one way to interrupt their plan.”
“What?”
“You must claim the lottery prize before Derek files for emergency guardianship.”
Naomi shook her head.
“That exposes her.”
“She is already exposed.”
Mercer looked at Marianne.
“Once the claim is validated, the prize becomes traceable. If she assigns it to a protected legal structure before they control her, Derek cannot touch it.”
“What kind of structure?”
“A whistleblower trust.”
Naomi frowned.
“Those are used in federal investigations.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a federal investigator?”
“No.”
The judge opened a drawer and removed an old business card.
“But Thomas did.”
The name printed on the card was Special Agent Samuel Rourke.
Marianne stared at it.
“My husband never mentioned him.”
“He was not allowed to.”
“Can we contact him?”
Mercer’s expression darkened.
“Samuel Rourke died seven years ago.”
“Then why show me the card?”
“Because three days ago, someone used his federal credentials to access your husband’s sealed accident file.”
A floorboard creaked in the hallway.
Mercer turned.
He had locked the front door behind them.
Another creak followed.
Closer.
Then a woman’s voice came from the darkness.
“Elias?”
The judge went white.
“That’s my wife.”
Naomi looked toward the hallway.
“You said she was locked inside Rosewood.”
“She is.”
A woman stepped into the study wearing a white patient gown.
Blood stained the hem.
May you like
She looked at Mercer and whispered, “They know about the ticket.”
Then she collapsed.
