Chapter 11 - The Trap Closes
"What do you mean, the Chief of Police?" Marlow barked, storming out of the conference room.
I followed hard on his heels. We stepped off the elevator into the hospital’s main lobby.
Standing in the center of the terrazzo floor was Julian Vance. He had discarded his wet coat and was now wearing a dry, pristine navy suit. Flanking him were two high-powered corporate lawyers carrying leather briefcases, and beside them stood Deputy Chief Douglas—a man with three gold stars on his collar and a face like carved granite.
"Marcus," Deputy Chief Douglas said as Marlow approached. "Stand down."
"Sir?" Marlow stopped, eyes narrowing. "Vance is the prime suspect in an attempted vehicular homicide that occurred four hours ago, and he just breached a secured ICU floor trying to tamper with the victim's life support!"
"You got a warrant, Detective?" one of the defense attorneys sneered, stepping forward. "Do you have physical surveillance placing Mr. Vance in that car? Do you have fingerprints on the hospital manifold? Because what Mr. Vance does have is four sworn affidavits from partners at his firm stating he was in an emergency board meeting in Lake Oswego from 3:00 a.m. until 7:00 a.m."
"They're lying!" I shouted, stepping past Marlow, my fists clenched so hard my skin tore. "He was on the fourth floor! I saw his face!"
Julian looked at me with an expression of heartbreaking pity. He turned to Chief Douglas.
"Chief, you see what I was telling you?" Julian said softly, his voice echoing through the vaulted lobby. "Robert Hale has been psychologically unstable since his wife died a decade ago. He’s grieving, he’s irrational, and he’s projecting his guilt onto me. He threw his own stepson out in the street ten years ago, and now that the boy turns up half-dead, Robert is suffering from a paranoid breakdown."
Julian took a step toward me, hands raised in an open, peaceful gesture.
"Robert, old friend. I forgive you. You’re under tremendous stress. But you cannot slander my name, and you cannot weaponize the police department because you can't live with your own failures as a father."
Bystanders in the lobby murmured, looking at me like I was a lunatic.
"You bastard," I whispered, shaking with pure fury. "I was in Safety Box 314. I heard the recording of Mara. I saw the forged signatures on the digitalis prescriptions."
Julian didn't flinch. He gave an almost imperceptible smirk, visible only to me.
"Safety deposit boxes without court-ordered chain of custody are inadmissible, Robert," Julian whispered coldly. "Any good lawyer knows that. Whatever private family memorabilia you stole from that bank this morning is fruit of the poisonous tree."
Julian turned back to the Chief. "Chief Douglas, I want a temporary restraining order barring Mr. Hale from the premises, and I am requesting an independent medical guardian be appointed for Ethan Reed. As Mara’s legal executor, I have the statutory right to oversee her son’s medical care."
My blood ran cold.
If Julian got guardianship, he could order the doctors to pull the plug. He could sign a 'Do Not Resuscitate' order, pull Ethan off the ventilator, and cremate the body before an autopsy could ever be ordered.
"Over my dead body," I snarled, lunging forward.
Marlow grabbed my arm, holding me back with iron strength. "Robert, don't! That’s what he wants!"
"Chief," Marlow said, his voice deadly serious. "I have a flash drive pulled from the victim's personal effects containing twelve years of Vance’s fraudulent offshore transfers, surveillance logs on the victims, and Mara Hale’s altered toxicology panels. You want to back this man? Put your badge on the line right now. Because the Department of Justice is getting a copy of this drive within the hour."
Chief Douglas hesitated. His eyes flicked from Marlow to Julian, noticing the slight tightening in Julian’s jaw.
"Nobody touches the patient," Douglas commanded slowly. "The ICU room remains under twenty-four-hour police guard. Mr. Vance, you and your counsel will leave the hospital until the District Attorney reviews Detective Marlow’s evidentiary packet."
Julian’s eyes narrowed into slits. He looked at me, his smile completely gone, replaced by the face of a cornered predator.
May you like
"Enjoy the next few hours with him, Robert," Julian said in a low, venomous whisper as he passed me. "Because dead boys tell no tales. And neither do old carpenters."
***
