Clare and Ellie remained nearby.
Dominic had offered to send them upstairs.
Ellie refused.
“I wanna see the click.”
It was the first thing that almost made Dominic smile.
Almost.
Vincent placed a tablet on the desk.
“Rehabilitation hallway. Yesterday. Three twelve in the afternoon.”
The recording began.
Arthur appeared at the end of the corridor.
Clare inhaled.
“That’s when I went downstairs.”
Arthur approached the rehabilitation room.
He looked behind himself.
Opened the door.
Entered.
Vincent advanced the recording.
Three minutes passed.
Then the image froze.
Static.
When the feed returned, nine minutes had disappeared.
Arthur emerged from the room at 3:27.
Alone.
Dominic looked at Vincent.
“Camera failure?”
“No.”
“You’re certain?”
“The file was deleted manually.”
“By whom?”
Vincent hesitated.
“An administrative credential.”
Dominic leaned back.
“How many people possess one?”
“Three.”
“Names.”
“You. Me.”
Vincent stopped.
Dominic’s gaze sharpened.
“And?”
Vincent looked toward the glass doors beyond the library.
“Arthur Voss.”
Clare hugged Ellie closer.
Dominic stared at the frozen image.
Arthur walking away from the rehabilitation room.
Arthur’s access.
Arthur’s vote.
Arthur’s ambition.
Too neat.
Dominic had survived too long to trust neat answers.
“Bring him in.”
Arthur entered without protest.
He sat opposite Dominic and crossed one leg over the other.
“You have footage.”
“You already knew that.”
“I assumed.”
“You entered the rehabilitation room yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“You denied knowing what happened to the brace.”
“No. I asked what happened tonight.”
“You’re playing with language.”
“I learned from your father.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“Why were you in that room?”
Arthur looked at Vincent.
“Should he be here?”
Vincent laughed once.
“I run security.”
“That was not my question.”
Dominic said, “Answer me.”
Arthur’s eyes returned to him.
“I went because I received a message.”
“From whom?”
“An anonymous number.”
Arthur removed a folded sheet of paper from inside his jacket.
Vincent immediately drew his weapon.
Arthur didn’t flinch.
“Relax. It’s paper.”
He placed it on the desk.
Printed across the page were seven words.
CHECK THE BRACE BEFORE THEY BREAK HIS LEG.
Dominic read it twice.
“When did you receive this?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“And instead of telling me, you went alone?”
“If I had told you, Vincent’s security team would have known.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“Careful.”
Arthur looked at him.
“I am being careful.”
Dominic raised a hand.
“What did you find?”
“Your brace on the therapy bench. You were upstairs undergoing imaging.”
“And?”
“I inspected it.”
“You know orthopedic equipment?”
“No. But I know what a fastening plate looks like.”
Arthur paused.
“It appeared reversed.”
Dominic frowned.
“You saw it?”
“Yes.”
“And left it that way?”
“No.”
Arthur leaned forward.
“I turned it back.”
The room went silent.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“But it was reversed again tonight.”
“Exactly.”
Vincent scoffed.
“How convenient.”
Arthur ignored him.
“I thought perhaps the message was nonsense. Then I corrected the plate. If it later returned to the wrong position, I would know someone was deliberately changing it.”
“You were conducting an experiment with my leg?”
“I was trying to discover whether somebody inside this house was hurting you.”
“You could have warned me.”
“And warned them.”
Arthur’s voice hardened.
“You have thirty-two security employees, private physicians, nurses, drivers, accountants, and senior staff moving through this property. Someone arranged a crash eleven weeks ago that nearly killed you.”
Mercer looked up sharply.
Dominic stared at Arthur.
“The police called it an accident.”
Arthur’s expression did not change.
“The police were wrong.”
2
Arthur produced photographs.
Dominic’s black sedan.
The wreck beneath Lower Wacker Drive.
A close-up of the steering assembly.
Another of a severed hydraulic line.
Vincent picked up the photograph.
“Where did you get this?”
“A mechanic who inspected the vehicle before your people removed it.”
