Chapter 3 - My Brother Did Not Come Alone
Garrick did not open the front door.
Instead, he grabbed my elbow.
Pain detonated across my chest as the movement jerked one of my drains.
I gasped.
“Who else did you call?” he demanded.
“No one.”
“Where’s your phone?”
“My phone is on your nightstand. You know that because you took it yesterday.”
His fingers tightened.
Another knock hit the door.
“Garrick,” Nolan called. “I know Lena is inside. I also know she had major surgery fourteen days ago. Open the door.”
Miriam moved quickly toward me. “You ungrateful little liar. After everything my son has done—”
I stepped back.
“Don’t touch me.”
Her mouth fell open.
I had never said those words to her before.
Garrick released my elbow as if he had suddenly remembered witnesses existed.
“I’ll handle this.”
He opened the door six inches.
My brother pushed it wider.
Nolan was forty-one now, broader through the shoulders than I remembered, with silver at his temples and our father’s dark eyes. He wore jeans and a navy button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
He was not alone.
A woman in a cream pantsuit stood beside him carrying a leather portfolio. Behind them waited a uniformed home-health nurse.
And at the curb sat a black SUV.
Garrick stared. “What is this?”
Nolan looked past him and found me.
His face changed.
“Jesus, Lena.”
Miriam snapped, “Do not use the Lord’s name in my house.”
Nolan glanced at her. “It isn’t your house.”
Silence.
Garrick’s shoulders stiffened.
“What did you say?”
The woman in the cream suit stepped forward.
“My name is Camille Ross. I represent Lena Mercer Vale.”
“I didn’t hire a lawyer,” I said.
Camille looked at me gently. “Your brother retained me for the limited purpose of getting you safely out of this residence and preserving your property. You can fire me in thirty seconds if you want.”
Garrick laughed. “This is insane.”
Nolan’s eyes dropped to my stained surgical bra.
Then to the drain tube visible beneath my robe.
Then to the trash can, where sterile medical supplies were sitting on top of coffee grounds.
“What happened?” he asked.
Miriam answered first. “She has become dependent on narcotics.”
The nurse pushed past Nolan.
“Ma’am, may I check your dressings?”
I nodded.
Her name badge read TANISHA BROOKS, RN.
She put on gloves, examined the leaking drain site without removing anything, and immediately looked at Garrick.
“She needs medical attention.”
“She’s fine,” he said.
Tanisha’s expression hardened. “I wasn’t asking you.”
I almost laughed again.
Camille pulled out her phone. “Lena, do you want to leave this house?”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel safe remaining here with your husband and mother-in-law?”
“No.”
“Do you consent to your brother transporting you to a medical facility?”
“Yes.”
Garrick stepped between us and the door.
“She’s medicated. She’s not thinking clearly.”
I looked at him. “Your mother flushed my medication.”
His eyes flickered.
Camille’s phone was recording.
Miriam saw it too late.
“She was abusing it,” she said.
“How many pills had she taken today?” Camille asked.
Miriam hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“How many yesterday?”
“I don’t count her pills.”
“Then what evidence did you have that she was abusing them?”
“This is a family matter.”
“No,” Camille said. “It stopped being a family matter when you interfered with post-surgical care.”
Garrick pointed toward the door. “Get out.”
Nolan stepped closer to me.
“Lena, grab what you need.”
“I need my identification.”
“I’ll go with you,” Tanisha said.
Garrick blocked the hallway.
“No one is going through my bedroom.”
Camille opened her portfolio and removed a document.
“Interesting choice of words.”
“What?”
“Your bedroom. Your house.” She handed him the paper. “According to the county deed, this property is owned by Mercer Family Holdings. My client owns sixty-two percent of that entity.”
Garrick’s face drained of color.
Miriam whispered, “You cannot do this here.”
There it was again.
Not surprise.
Knowledge.
I turned to her.
“You knew.”
She blinked.
“You knew this house wasn’t Garrick’s.”
“Lena, you’re confused.”
“No.” My voice grew stronger. “You knew.”
Garrick lunged for Camille’s document.
Nolan moved between them.
“Touch her and I call the police.”
“You broke into my home!”
“I used a key your late father-in-law gave me to enter property owned by a company I’m a director of.” Nolan leaned close. “Want to call them?”
For one beautiful second, Garrick had no answer.
Tanisha helped me into the bedroom.
My purse was gone.
So was my wallet.
The drawer where I kept my passport stood open.
Empty.
“Garrick?” I called.
He did not answer.
Nolan entered.
“What’s missing?”
“Everything. ID. Passport. Credit cards.”
His jaw clenched.
“Was your purse here this morning?”
“Yes.”
He looked at the closet.
A large suitcase was missing too.
I stared at the empty space.
“I didn’t pack anything.”
Camille appeared behind him.
“Nolan.”
Something in her tone made us turn.
She held up her phone.
“I just got a message from my investigator.”
“What?”
“Garrick purchased a one-way airline ticket in Lena’s name yesterday.”
I felt the room sway.
“To where?”
“Mexico City. Departure tonight.”
“I’m not going to Mexico.”
“I know.”
Nolan looked toward the living room.
“Where’s Garrick?”
We hurried back.
The front door was open.
Garrick’s car was gone.
Miriam stood by the kitchen island, perfectly still.
“Where did he go?” I asked.
She looked at me with something almost like pity.
“You should have mowed the lawn.”
Nolan crossed the room. “Where did he go?”
Miriam’s smile trembled.
“You think you’re rescuing her.”
“I am.”
“No.” She looked directly at me. “You just made sure Garrick has nothing left to lose.”
Then the prepaid phone hidden beneath my robe buzzed.
A text from an unknown number appeared.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED QUIET.
Underneath was a photograph taken less than a minute earlier.
It showed Nolan’s black SUV from across the street.
Someone was watching the house.
Before we left the house, I made one more choice that felt small but mattered. I asked Tanisha to photograph the trash can exactly as it was, the ruined sterile supplies, the coffee grounds stuck to the gauze packages, and the blood on my robe. Garrick had spent years teaching me to doubt my own memory. I wanted a record that could not be argued with later.
Nolan watched from the doorway. “You don’t have to prove this to me,” he said.
“I’m not proving it to you.”
“Then who?”
I looked at the room I had called home. “The version of me who might wake up next week and start making excuses for him again.”
May you like
Nolan’s expression softened. “Then take every picture you need.”
So I did. The mower through the back window. The empty prescription bottle. The garbage. The master key still lying on the counter where Miriam had dropped it. By the time I stepped into the SUV, I had no luggage, no wallet, and no idea where my husband had gone. But for once, I had evidence.
