Chapter 4 - The Man Who Knew Too Much|
"How do you know Emily is here?"
The question left my mouth before Sebastian could continue.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then he chuckled softly.
"Marcus, you're under enormous stress."
"That's not an answer."
"Margaret called me."
"When?"
"A little while ago."
"Why?"
"Because she was worried about Zion."
I stared at the pharmacy receipt in my hand.
"That's interesting."
"What's interesting?"
"You're my attorney, Sebastian."
"Not my nanny's emergency contact."
His tone changed.
"She's been part of your household for years."
"Of course she knows how to reach me."
I remembered all the times Sebastian had praised Margaret.
How reliable she was.
How professional.
How lucky I was to have someone so devoted to Zion.
For years, I had mistaken familiarity for trustworthiness.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"At my office."
"Stay there."
"Marcus, I think we should discuss—"
I ended the call.
Emily was watching me carefully.
"Are you all right?"
"No."
I looked at the receipt again.
"But I'm starting to understand how little I know about the people around me."
Before she could respond, Dr. Collins appeared.
She asked us to step into a private consultation room.
Emily hesitated at the doorway.
"Should I wait outside?"
The doctor looked at me.
"That's your decision, Mr. Whitaker."
I turned toward Emily.
"Please stay."
She entered quietly.
Dr. Collins sat across from us.
"The preliminary testing supports opioid exposure."
I gripped the arms of my chair.
"Is Zion going to recover?"
"He's responding well to treatment."
"His breathing has improved, but we need to watch him closely because some medications can have prolonged effects."
I nodded.
"What about the patch?"
"The item Emily brought us is being handled as potential evidence."
"We can't identify its origin solely from its appearance."
"But it may be an important part of understanding how your son became ill."
Emily lowered her head.
I reached for the receipt.
"Doctor, I think there's something else the police should see."
I explained what Emily had found.
Dr. Collins studied the paper.
"Please preserve the original and share it with the investigator assigned to the case."
Then she looked at Emily.
"You did the right thing by bringing the patch here."
Emily's eyes filled.
"I wish I'd called for help sooner."
"That was a serious situation, and calling emergency services promptly is important."
The doctor paused.
"But the fact that you brought us this evidence may be extremely helpful."
I watched Emily wipe away a tear.
Nobody in my mansion had thanked her for anything that day.
Not even me.
"Thank you," I whispered.
She glanced at me.
I meant it more deeply than any words I had ever spoken.
An hour later, Detective Naomi Brooks arrived.
She was a tall woman with short dark hair and a voice that suggested she had no patience for expensive excuses.
She introduced herself and asked to speak with us separately.
When it was my turn, she placed a notebook on the table.
"Mr. Whitaker, tell me exactly what happened when you returned home."
I described the kitchen.
The bath.
My anger.
The dismissal.
I repeated every cruel word I had spoken.
Detective Brooks didn't interrupt.
When I finished, she studied me for a moment.
"You understand that your housemaid was trying to report a possible danger to your child?"
"Yes."
"And you prevented her from finishing?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
I stared at my hands.
"Because I thought my authority mattered more than her explanation."
The detective wrote something down.
Then she closed her notebook.
"That's an unusually direct answer."
"It doesn't make it a good one."
"No."
She leaned forward.
"But it gives us somewhere to start."
I asked whether she could search my house.
She explained that investigators would need to follow the appropriate procedures and preserve any available evidence.
I immediately offered full cooperation.
Then I called my estate manager, Harold Price.
"Don't erase anything."
"Sir?"
"Security footage, phone logs, visitor records, delivery receipts."
"Preserve all of it."
Harold hesitated.
"There's a problem."
My heartbeat accelerated.
"What problem?"
"The nursery cameras haven't recorded normally since yesterday."
I stood.
"What do you mean?"
"The system shows an interruption."
"How long?"
"Nearly four hours."
"Who has access to that system?"
"Only the security company and senior household management."
I knew the security company.
Vale Protective Services.
A private firm Sebastian had recommended after Hannah died.
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Sebastian had helped hire the security team.
He had helped select Margaret's employment agency.
He reviewed my household insurance policies.
He handled the Whitaker Family Trust.
And I had signed every document he placed in front of me.
"Harold, do not touch the system."
"Understood."
"And don't tell anyone what we've discovered."
"Yes, sir."
After the call, I informed Detective Brooks.
She listened carefully.
"Mr. Whitaker, I want you to avoid confronting anyone while we establish the facts."
I agreed.
But when I returned to the hospital waiting room, I found Margaret standing beside Emily.
She wore a cream-colored coat and carried a designer handbag I recognized.
Her expression was calm.
Too calm.
"Oh, Mr. Whitaker," she said.
"Thank goodness you're here."
Then she pointed at Emily.
"This woman has been filling your head with lies."
Emily stood motionless.
Margaret stepped toward me.
"I've taken care of Zion since the day he was born."
"You know I would never hurt that precious child."
I looked into the face of the woman I had trusted for two years.
Then I asked one question.
"Margaret, why did Sebastian Vale call you before he called me?"
Her smile disappeared.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
And Detective Brooks, who had just entered behind us, saw it too.
Margaret tightened her grip on her handbag.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
The detective moved closer.
"Then perhaps you can explain it to me."
Margaret turned.
For the first time since I had known her, she looked frightened.
But what happened next frightened me even more.
My phone vibrated.
A message had arrived from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph of Zion sleeping in his nursery.
The picture had been taken that morning.
May you like
Beneath it were six words.
"You should have let Emily leave."
