Chapter 5 - THE BLACK BIRD
Claire backed toward the hospital bed.
Diane began to sob.
The man stood between them and the door. A cap shadowed his face, but Claire recognized the silver ring.
The black bird seemed to spread its wings when the emergency light flashed.
“What do you want?” Claire asked.
“The same thing everyone wants.”
“Money?”
“An ending.”
He took one step toward Diane.
“You disappointed us.”
Diane raised her unbandaged hand.
“I didn’t tell her your name.”
“You told her enough.”
Claire reached behind her, searching the bedside table. Her fingers closed around a metal water pitcher.
The man noticed.
“You are carrying two children,” he said. “Do not make a foolish choice.”
Claire held the pitcher tighter.
“Then don’t come closer.”
The door suddenly rattled.
“Claire!” Ethan shouted from the hallway.
The man turned.
Claire threw the pitcher.
It struck his shoulder. Diane screamed as he stumbled sideways.
The door burst open.
Ethan charged inside with a hospital security officer behind him. The man slammed the officer against the wall and rushed into the hallway.
Claire saw his face for one second.
A narrow scar ran from his left ear to his jaw.
Then he disappeared through the stairwell.
Nora arrived fifteen minutes later.
The hospital’s emergency system had been deliberately triggered from a maintenance panel. Cameras near the stairwell went offline thirty seconds before the intrusion.
Diane was placed under police protection.
This time, she spoke.
“The man called himself Mr. Crow,” she said. “I don’t know his real name. He contacted me four months ago. He knew my son had gambling debts. He offered to make them disappear if I changed Claire’s records.”
“What did he want the records to show?” Nora asked.
“That Claire was emotionally unstable. That she imagined people following her. That she sometimes refused medical advice.”
“Did he explain why?”
“No.”
“Who paid you?”
“Cash was delivered to my apartment.”
“Did you ever see Margaret Hale?”
Diane looked at Claire.
“Once.”
Claire held her breath.
“At a clinic fundraiser,” Diane continued. “But she never spoke to me about the records. I don’t know whether she was involved.”
Nora placed the photograph of the maintenance worker on the table.
“Is this Mr. Crow?”
“Yes.”
“Did he mention Samuel Reed?”
Diane frowned.
“Who?”
“Claire’s father.”
“No.”
Nora showed her the clipping.
Diane’s face changed when she saw the red writing.
“I’ve seen that handwriting.”
“Where?”
“On an envelope Mr. Crow gave me.”
“What was inside?”
“A photograph of Claire.”
Claire’s skin went cold.
“When was it taken?”
Diane lowered her eyes.
“She was standing beside a grave.”
Claire knew exactly which grave.
Every year on the anniversary of her father’s death, she visited the small cemetery outside Hartford alone.
At least, she had believed she was alone.
Nora received a call and stepped into the hallway.
When she returned, she carried a new expression.
“What happened?” Ethan asked.
“Margaret Hale has disappeared.”
Ethan stared at her.
“She was under court supervision.”
“She removed her tracking bracelet forty minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“At the family estate.”
Nora looked at Claire.
“Officers searched the property.”
“Did they find her?”
“No.”
“What did they find?”
Nora hesitated.
“A room beneath the east wing that does not appear on the architectural plans.”
Ethan’s face emptied of color.
“What was inside?”
“Photographs,” Nora said. “Hundreds of them.”
May you like
“Of whom?”
“Your wife.”
