Chapter 4 - THE DOCTOR WHO WANTED MY SON SILENT
Dr. Crane disappeared from the balcony.
I ran.
Vincent grabbed my shoulder.
“Think.”
“That man has something Serena gave my son.”
“And he may have ten armed men inside.”
I shoved his hand away.
“Then ten men are about to have a terrible night.”
Emma stepped in front of me.
“Preston.”
“Move.”
“Oliver needs you alive.”
That stopped me.
Not because I feared death.
Because Oliver was standing behind her.
Watching me.
I had spent years telling myself violence protected my family.
For the first time, I wondered what it looked like through my son’s eyes.
I crouched beside him.
“Stay with Emma.”
His fingers closed around my coat.
“No.”
The word was clear.
My chest tightened.
“I’ll come back.”
He shook his head.
“Dad.”
I almost forgot how to breathe.
Dad.
Not Daddy.
Not Father.
One word.
But mine.
I touched his face.
“I promise.”
He released me.
Vincent and I entered through the kitchen.
Two of Crane’s men were waiting.
The fight lasted less than thirty seconds.
By the time we reached the second floor, the mansion was quiet.
Too quiet.
Oliver’s bedroom door stood open.
The blue book was gone.
Crane was gone.
But he had left something behind.
A phone.
It rang.
Vincent looked at me.
I answered.
Crane’s calm voice filled the line.
“Good evening, Preston.”
“You have thirty seconds to explain why I shouldn’t tear Chicago apart looking for you.”
“Because I’m the only person who can tell you why Serena Hale died.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“You have my attention.”
“I assumed I would.”
“Where’s the book?”
“Safe.”
“If you hurt my son—”
“I have never wanted to hurt Oliver.”
“You spent two years treating him.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow he never improved.”
Silence.
That silence told me everything.
“You kept him from speaking.”
“I kept him stable.”
“You drugged him?”
“Careful, Preston. Anger makes you stupid.”
Vincent motioned for me to keep Crane talking while he traced the call.
Crane continued.
“Oliver wasn’t mute because he couldn’t speak. He was mute because he was terrified of what would happen if he did.”
I remembered every appointment.
Every medication.
Every private session.
“What did you do to him?”
“Nothing compared with what he saw.”
“What did he see?”
“You should ask him.”
The call ended.
Vincent looked at his screen.
“Burner. Signal bounced.”
I stared at Oliver’s empty room.
On the bedside table stood a framed photograph of Serena.
I picked it up.
For two years, I had trusted Crane because he was recommended by the hospital.
Recommended the morning after Serena died.
Who had recommended him?
I couldn’t remember.
That terrified me.
We returned to the carriage house.
Emma was sitting on the floor with Oliver asleep against her chest.
The sight struck somewhere I wasn’t prepared to be struck.
For one second, she looked like Serena.
Not physically.
Emma’s hair was darker. Her face was softer.
But the way she held Oliver—
I looked away.
“Crane took the book.”
Emma’s face tightened.
“Then he knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That Serena left something.”
Vincent entered behind me.
“I checked Crane’s background.”
“And?”
“It’s too clean.”
“How clean?”
“Medical school, residency, private practice. But there’s almost nothing before he was twenty-three.”
Emma whispered, “Changed identity?”
“Possible.”
I looked at Oliver.
“He said Oliver saw something.”
Emma gently woke him.
I hated it, but we needed answers.
Oliver blinked.
“Sweetheart,” Emma whispered, “do you remember Dr. Crane?”
His body immediately stiffened.
That was answer enough.
I knelt.
“Did he hurt you?”
Oliver shook his head.
“Did he scare you?”
A nod.
“How?”
Oliver looked toward the house.
“Needle.”
My stomach turned.
“What needle?”
“He said sleep.”
Emma’s eyes met mine.
“Sedatives.”
I felt murder rising inside me.
Oliver continued.
“Mommy said no.”
“When?”
He touched his chest.
“Hospital.”
The room went silent.
“Crane was at the hospital?” Vincent asked.
Oliver nodded.
I had never seen him there.
At least, I didn’t remember seeing him.
“What else happened?”
Oliver began trembling.
Emma started humming.
He breathed.
Then he whispered, “Mommy fighting.”
“With Crane?”
He shook his head.
“Who?”
Oliver looked at Vincent.
Vincent froze.
My hand moved toward my gun.
Oliver pointed.
Not at Vincent.
At his ring.
Vincent looked down.
A black onyx ring bearing our family crest.
Every senior man in my father’s organization had once worn one.
Oliver whispered, “Ring man.”
My blood chilled.
“Someone wearing that ring was in Serena’s hospital room?”
Oliver nodded.
Vincent removed his ring immediately and placed it on the table.
“Half a dozen men still have these.”
“Names.”
“Me. Carlo Vescari. Anthony Bell. Your uncle Raymond. Your father’s old attorney, Malcolm Shaw.”
“And?”
Vincent hesitated.
“One more.”
“Who?”
“Your brother.”
I stared at him.
My younger brother, Julian, had disappeared three years ago after stealing money from the organization.
I had believed he was living somewhere in Europe.
Vincent looked at me.
“We need to find him.”
Emma suddenly stood.
“No.”
I turned.
“What?”
She looked terrified.
“Serena mentioned Julian.”
“When?”
“The last time I saw her.”
“What did she say?”
Emma swallowed.
“She said if anything happened to her, Julian would be blamed.”
My skin went cold.
“Why?”
“Because whoever was really responsible needed you to hate him.”
A vehicle approached outside.
Vincent drew his gun.
Three SUVs stopped at the gate.
My guards surrounded them.
A man stepped out of the middle vehicle.
Older than I remembered.
Thinner.
A scar crossed his jaw.
But I knew my brother.
Julian Hale raised both hands.
“I’m unarmed.”
I walked outside.
“You picked a bad night to come home.”
He looked past me toward Emma.
Then Oliver.
Relief crossed his face.
“They found her.”
“Who?”
Julian looked at me.
“The people who killed Serena.”
My hand tightened around my gun.
“You know who killed my wife?”
“Yes.”
“Name them.”
He stared at me for a long moment.
May you like
Then he said the one thing I never expected.
“You did.”
