Chapter 3 - THE NUMBER EVERYONE IGNORED
Alexander did not argue.
That frightened Samantha more than disbelief would have.
Inside St. Catherine, Marcus was placed on high-flow oxygen while the emergency physician ordered repeat blood tests.
Alexander received the same treatment in a room three doors away.
Samantha was supposed to be a patient.
Instead, she stood at the foot of his bed reading the monitor.
Alexander watched her.
“You do understand you are also being treated.”
“I’m aware.”
“You removed your oxygen.”
“I was getting a headache from the strap.”
“You already had a headache.”
“Now I have two.”
Alexander almost smiled.
Then it disappeared.
“Nine months ago.”
Samantha knew what he wanted.
“My memory isn’t a medical record.”
“I’m not asking you to violate anything.”
“You’re asking what I personally remember.”
“Yes.”
She pulled a chair closer.
“You arrived around one-ten in the morning. Single-vehicle collision near the East River. Your blood pressure was unstable.”
“I remember pieces.”
“Your carboxyhemoglobin was elevated.”
“How elevated?”
“Enough that I questioned it.”
Alexander’s eyes hardened.
“And nobody followed up?”
“The priority was keeping you alive.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Samantha looked toward the floor.
“I documented the concern.”
“What happened?”
“An attending physician said it was probably scene exposure.”
“Was there enough scene exposure?”
“I didn’t think so.”
“But he did.”
“Yes.”
Alexander studied her face.
“There’s more.”
Samantha hated that he noticed.
“I pushed.”
“And?”
“I was told I was overtired and seeing patterns because it had been a bad shift.”
His jaw tightened.
“They punished you?”
“No.”
“That sounded like punishment.”
“For six weeks I stopped getting assigned as trauma lead.”
Alexander’s expression went cold.
Samantha immediately shook her head.
“Do not do billionaire things.”
“What does that mean?”
“Do not call anybody. Do not threaten a hospital donor. Do not buy the emergency department.”
“I was considering none of those.”
“You considered at least two.”
His mouth almost moved.
She continued.
“I stayed. I did my job. Eventually the schedule changed again.”
“You were right.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“Yes, we do.”
“No. We know someone tampered with your vehicle tonight. We know your old carbon monoxide level was unusual. That is not the same as proving the first crash was deliberate.”
Alexander stared at her for a moment.
“You always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Refuse the emotionally satisfying conclusion until the evidence catches up.”
“I work in emergency medicine.”
A nurse entered and handed Samantha another oxygen mask.
Samantha reluctantly put it on.
After the nurse left, Alexander spoke.
“My brakes failed.”
Samantha lowered the mask.
“Nine months ago?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“The pedal became soft. Then almost useless.”
“Were you driving?”
“Yes.”
“No driver?”
“Marcus had called out.”
“Why?”
“He was sick.”
“Who arranged your vehicle?”
Alexander was quiet.
“My fleet office.”
“Who oversees it?”
“Grant Mercer.”
She waited.
Alexander’s eyes shifted.
“What?”
“You reacted to his name.”
“I reacted because Grant has worked for me for fourteen years.”
“That’s exactly why people react.”
He looked away.
“The night of the crash, I had been at Pier Fourteen.”
Samantha knew the location.
Everybody in New York did.
Cole Meridian’s largest waterfront redevelopment.
Luxury residences.
Public parkland.
Retail.
A freight terminal conversion worth almost a billion dollars.
“I was meeting Ethan Vale.”
“Who?”
“My chief financial officer.”
“Friend?”
Alexander gave a small nod.
“Since college.”
“What was the meeting about?”
Alexander stared at the monitor.
“Forty-one million dollars.”
Samantha slowly removed the oxygen mask again.
“Missing?”
“Moved.”
“Difference?”
“There should have been one.”
That was not comforting.
He explained.
Money assigned to environmental remediation at Pier Fourteen had been transferred between Cole Meridian project accounts without Alexander’s final authorization.
Ethan claimed it was temporary.
A struggling division needed liquidity.
The money would be replaced.
Alexander had refused to approve the transfer after the fact.
He intended to take it to the board the next morning.
He never arrived.
Instead, his brakes failed near the river.
“And afterward?” Samantha asked.
“The money was restored.”
“All forty-one million?”
“Yes.”
“So the problem disappeared.”
“On paper.”
She looked at him.
“But you stopped investigating.”
“I spent seven weeks recovering.”
That answered enough.
The door opened.
A security man entered.
“Mr. Cole, your vehicle has been secured. Police have it.”
“Anything else?”
“The device appears improvised but deliberate.”
Samantha watched Alexander absorb that.
Then the guard added, “Mr. Vale is asking where you are.”
Alexander looked at him.
“How does Ethan know something happened?”
“He was expecting you at the townhouse.”
Alexander checked the time.
“Of course.”
The guard left.
Samantha frowned.
“Townhouse?”
“My niece.”
Something softened immediately in his face.
“Sophie stays with me Friday nights.”
“You have a niece?”
“Nine.”
“And she’s waiting for you?”
“With her nanny.”
“Then stop looking like someone canceled Christmas and go home.”
Alexander looked at her oxygen mask.
“You first.”
One hour later, after both had been medically cleared, Alexander refused to let Samantha order another rideshare.
She gave him a look.
“What?”
“You have one functioning SUV left.”
“Several.”
“That is somehow less reassuring.”
They rode in the security vehicle.
Marcus remained overnight for observation.
Alexander sat closer this time.
Neither mentioned it.
The Cole townhouse was quieter than Samantha expected.
No marble palace.
No gold staircase.
Dark wood.
Books.
Family photographs.
A pair of small sneakers beside the entry table.
Samantha was looking at them when a child appeared on the stairs.
Brown hair.
Pink pajamas.
Bare feet.
Sophie.
She looked at Alexander.
“Why are you late?”
He crossed the room.
“Car trouble.”
Sophie’s eyes narrowed.
“You always say that when it’s bad.”
Alexander crouched.
“I’m okay.”
“Promise?”
He hesitated only once.
Then nodded.
“Promise.”
She hugged him.
Samantha looked away.
When Sophie noticed her, Alexander said, “This is Samantha.”
“The nurse?”
Alexander glanced at Samantha.
Apparently Sophie knew the story.
Sophie’s eyes widened.
“The one who saved you?”
Samantha smiled.
“Your uncle helped a little.”
Sophie looked skeptical.
“I don’t think so.”
Alexander sighed.
“Sophie.”
She hugged him again.
As she moved, Samantha noticed the necklace around the child’s neck.
A small silver compass.
Alexander saw her looking.
“It belonged to my sister Claire. Sophie’s mother.”
Samantha’s smile softened.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Mom had two,” Sophie said.
Alexander went still.
Samantha looked at him.
He touched his shirt unconsciously.
“I had the other one.”
“Had?”
He nodded.
“I wore it the night of the crash.”
Samantha felt something tighten behind her ribs.
She suddenly saw Trauma Bay Four.
Trauma shears.
Blood-soaked shirt.
His belongings placed one by one into a clear property bag.
Wallet.
Watch.
Belt.
A silver compass on a thin black cord.
“You were wearing it.”
Alexander stared.
“You remember?”
“Yes.”
“I never got it back.”
Samantha’s exhaustion vanished again.
“Who collected your personal belongings?”
Alexander answered slowly.
“Ethan.”
She said nothing.
He saw the recognition immediately.
“You met him.”
“Briefly.”
“When?”
“The morning after surgery.”
“What happened?”
Samantha remembered a tall man in an expensive navy coat.
A hospital visitor badge.
Red eyes.
A controlled voice.
He had asked whether Alexander’s property had been released.
Samantha had personally handed over the sealed bag after verification.
She remembered because he had seemed less interested in the wallet than in making sure the bag had not been opened again.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Alexander stared at her.
May you like
“I gave Ethan Vale your compass.”
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