Chapter 6 - THE POISON HIDDEN INSIDE THE MANSION
"MY FATHER IS ALONE WITH THE PEOPLE WHO TRIED TO KILL HIM!"
Dante was already moving toward the door.
Emily caught his arm.
"Michael can't travel without treatment."
"Then call an ambulance."
"He said the hospitals aren't safe."
Dante stopped.
For years, he had solved problems through intimidation and force.
But force couldn't stop a stroke.
It couldn't heal a gunshot wound.
And it couldn't guarantee that Frank Valenti would survive another attack.
Emily met his eyes.
"We need a licensed doctor outside Kessler's network. Someone who can examine Michael and your father without reporting to the foundation."
Dante took out a clean phone Elena had given him.
He called Dr. Rebecca Warren, an independent emergency physician who had treated his family years earlier.
She agreed to meet Michael at a private medical facility with proper emergency equipment.
Dante arranged for Marco's trusted men to escort him.
Then he and Emily raced toward Newport.
The eastern sky was beginning to lighten.
Dante drove faster than Emily liked.
She didn't tell him to slow down.
Her thoughts were fixed on Frank.
The elderly man had been kind to her from the first day she arrived.
When Gloria criticized her uniform, Frank had quietly pointed out that Emily looked professional.
When she spoke about Lily's treatments, his eyes filled with sympathy.
And when Gloria ordered her to kneel at dinner, Frank had tried desperately to stop it.
Emily now understood why.
He hadn't just been protecting his caregiver.
He had been trying to expose someone.
Dante's phone rang.
Marco.
"Boss, the mansion's security cameras went offline six minutes ago."
Dante pressed the accelerator.
"Get everyone out of the medical wing."
"I'm sending men now."
A pause.
Then Marco said something that made Dante's blood turn cold.
"Dr. Simon Sloan just arrived."
Sloan was the neurologist who had overseen Frank's recovery.
He also worked as a consultant for the Valenti Family Foundation.
Emily grabbed the phone.
"Marco, don't let him give Frank anything."
"Understood."
"And check the medication drawer. There should be a blue prescription bottle labeled for nighttime agitation."
Dante glanced at her.
"What's wrong with it?"
"I don't know yet. But Frank becomes unusually confused after taking the medication."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I reported it to Gloria and Dr. Sloan. They both said it was expected."
Dante gripped the steering wheel.
"God help him if he hurt my father."
When they reached the mansion, two guards stood outside Frank's bedroom.
Dante pushed past them.
Frank lay in bed, pale and unresponsive.
A medication cup sat on the bedside table.
Dr. Sloan stood beside him.
"Mr. Valenti," the physician began, "your father has experienced another neurological episode."
Emily moved straight to Frank.
She checked his breathing and responsiveness, then immediately called for emergency medical assistance.
"What did you give him?"
Sloan frowned.
"The medication prescribed for his condition."
"Which medication?"
"Mrs. Dawson, you're a caregiver. I'm his physician."
"And I'm asking what you administered."
Dante stepped forward.
"Answer her."
Sloan glanced toward the door.
"A mild sedative."
Emily lifted the bottle.
"How much?"
Sloan hesitated.
Dante noticed.
"Doctor."
"I followed the chart."
Emily examined the medication record.
Her expression changed.
"This dosage was increased last month."
"His agitation had worsened."
"Because he was trying to communicate," Emily replied.
Sloan said nothing.
Dante took the chart.
Three dosage adjustments.
Each authorized after Frank had made progress in therapy.
Each followed by worsening confusion.
Emily looked at him.
"These records don't prove anyone caused his original stroke. But somebody needs to investigate whether his recovery has been deliberately suppressed."
Dante's voice became quiet.
"Who authorized the changes?"
Sloan looked toward Gloria.
She had entered the room behind them.
Her face went white.
"I approved them," she whispered.
Dante turned.
"Mother?"
Gloria began shaking.
"Sloan told me Frank was suffering. He said the medication would help him rest."
Emily felt a mixture of anger and pity.
Gloria had been cruel.
Controlling.
Blind to her husband's desperate attempts to communicate.
But now she looked like a woman realizing she had helped the very people she feared.
"Did you question the dosage?" Emily asked.
"No."
"Did you ask Frank whether he wanted it?"
Gloria began crying.
"No."
Emergency medical personnel arrived.
After evaluating Frank, they arranged immediate transfer to a hospital outside the foundation's network.
Dante watched them lift his father onto a stretcher.
For the first time in his life, the older man seemed frighteningly small.
"Dad," Dante whispered, taking his hand. "I'm here."
Frank's eyes opened briefly.
His left fingers closed around Dante's.
Then the ambulance doors shut.
Dante turned back toward Sloan.
"You're staying."
Sloan backed away.
"You can't detain me."
"Then you can explain everything to the investigators I'm calling."
The doctor looked toward the hallway.
Marco appeared in the doorway.
"Don't make this worse," Marco warned.
Sloan sank into a chair.
Emily began gathering Frank's therapy notes, medication charts, and the wheelchair's maintenance records.
As she examined the underside of the seat, she found a narrow black transmitter secured beneath the frame.
It was smaller than a matchbox.
"Here," she said.
Dante crouched beside her.
The device had a serial number but no manufacturer's label.
Marco photographed it.
"That explains how someone kept finding him."
Emily pulled back the canvas seat lining.
Something else was hidden beneath it.
A small brass key.
It had been taped inside a folded piece of cloth.
Emily lifted it carefully.
An engraved letter was visible on the handle.
D.
Then another.
D.
Daniel Dawson.
She suddenly remembered the wooden box in her closet.
"The key," she whispered. "Frank was protecting it."
Dante stared at the initials.
"Your husband trusted my father."
Emily nodded.
"And your father trusted him."
Gloria lowered herself into a chair.
"I knew Frank was hiding something. Kessler kept asking me to search his room."
Dante turned sharply.
"What did you tell him?"
"That I couldn't find it."
"Why?"
Gloria looked at Emily.
"Because Frank wouldn't stop trying to warn her. I thought if Emily kept asking questions, Kessler would realize she knew something."
Emily stared at her.
"So you humiliated me to make me quit?"
Gloria's eyes filled.
"I thought you would leave."
Emily's voice shook.
"You slapped me. You threatened my livelihood. You knew I needed that job to care for my daughter."
"I know."
"No," Emily replied firmly. "You don't. You had choices. I didn't."
Gloria covered her face.
For once, nobody rushed to comfort her.
Dante looked at his mother.
"Fear doesn't excuse what you did."
She nodded through her tears.
"I understand."
Hours later, at the independent hospital, Frank gradually regained consciousness as his doctors reviewed his medications and stabilized him.
Dr. Warren explained that some of his sedating drugs might have unnecessarily impaired his ability to participate in rehabilitation.
A full investigation would be needed.
Emily sat beside Frank's bed.
She held up the communication board.
"Frank, we found Daniel's key."
His eyes brightened.
"Did he want us to open the box?"
Two blinks.
"Does it contain proof against Kessler?"
Two more.
Dante stepped closer.
"Dad, did Kessler know you were helping Daniel?"
Frank began breathing rapidly.
Emily placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Take your time."
Frank pointed to the letter board.
N.
O.
T.
Then another word.
S.
A.
F.
E.
"Not safe," Emily whispered.
Frank pointed toward Dante.
Then toward the hospital door.
Dante turned immediately.
Marco stood outside talking on his phone.
A police cruiser had pulled into the emergency entrance.
Dante stepped into the hallway.
Two uniformed officers entered.
Behind them walked Victor Hale, his injured arm wrapped in a bandage.
"What's going on?" Dante demanded.
Hale looked exhausted.
"There's been a murder."
Dante stared at him.
"Who?"
"Dr. Simon Sloan."
Emily appeared in the doorway.
"That's impossible. We left him alive at the mansion."
Hale looked at her.
"I know."
One officer stepped forward.
"Emily Dawson?"
She nodded.
The officer held out a warrant.
"You're under arrest in connection with Dr. Sloan's death."
Dante moved between them.
"Absolutely not."
Hale lifted a hand.
"Let me finish."
He showed Dante a still image taken from the mansion's security system.
It appeared to show Emily entering Sloan's room carrying a syringe.
The timestamp was from less than an hour earlier.
Emily stared.
"That's not me."
The officer reached for his handcuffs.
"We'll discuss that at the station."
Emily stepped backward.
Then another officer's radio crackled.
A voice announced that investigators had found a handwritten statement beside Sloan's body.
Hale looked at Dante.
"What statement?"
The answer came over the radio.
A note signed with Daniel Dawson's name.
Seven years after Michael disappeared.
Six years after Daniel was buried.
May you like
And the note contained one sentence:
MY WIFE KNOWS WHERE THE MISSING MONEY WENT.
