Chapter 3 - Someone Was Looking for EliNathan read the words twice.
They had met when both were twenty-four-year-old nobodies working out of a rented office above a laundromat. They had survived lawsuits, recessions, failed projects, and months when they barely had enough money to make payroll.
Nathan had even made Mark godfather to the son Vanessa miscarried nine years earlier.
Now an eleven-year-old homeless boy was telling Nathan that Mark had handed Vanessa the bottle that might have killed him.
Nathan crouched in front of Eli.
“Where did you see him?”
Eli glanced nervously toward the police officers.
“Behind the hotel yesterday.”
“What was he doing?”
“Talking to her.”
“You’re sure it was Vanessa?”
Eli nodded.
“She had the same red coat.”
Nathan remembered it.
Vanessa had bought the coat in Milan.
Eli continued.
“I sleep near the heating vent behind the hotel sometimes. It’s warm there. They didn’t know I was behind the delivery bins.”
Nathan’s stomach tightened.
“What did they say?”
“I couldn’t hear everything.”
“Anything you remember.”
Eli squeezed his hands together.
“The man said something about tomorrow night. Your wife said she didn’t like the plan. He said they were too close to stop.”
Nathan’s skin went cold.
“Then?”
“He gave her the little bottle.”
Vanessa’s attorney suddenly stepped toward them.
“This child should not be questioned without a legal guardian present.”
The detective blocked him.
“Neither should you interfere with a witness.”
Vanessa sat rigidly across the room.
Nathan walked toward her.
“Was Mark here yesterday?”
She looked away.
“Nathan, don’t do this.”
“Was he?”
“No.”
Eli spoke from behind him.
“Yes, he was.”
Vanessa’s eyes snapped toward the boy.
For one terrifying second, Nathan saw pure hatred on her face.
It vanished almost instantly.
But Eli saw it too.
He moved closer to Nathan.
Nathan lowered his voice.
“You should be very careful how you look at him.”
Vanessa gave a hollow laugh.
“You’re protecting a stranger over your own wife.”
“A stranger just prevented me from eating poisoned food.”
“Allegedly.”
“The lab disagrees.”
Vanessa’s lawyer touched her arm.
“Stop talking.”
Detective Rachel Morgan approached Nathan.
“We’re going to need access to your medical history, financial information, and anything related to Mrs. Cole’s recent activities.”
“You’ll have it.”
“Also, where is Mr. Reynolds tonight?”
Nathan checked his phone.
Three missed calls from Mark.
Then a message.
He opened it.
Heard there’s some drama at dinner. Call me before you talk to anyone.
Nathan showed the detective.
Rachel’s eyebrow rose.
“How would he already know?”
Nathan looked around.
Only people in this room knew.
Unless Vanessa had warned him.
Nathan dialed Mark.
The call rang once.
Then disconnected.
A second later, another message appeared.
Don’t make accusations you can’t take back.
Nathan stared at the words.
Rachel read them over his shoulder.
“I’d like Mr. Reynolds brought in for questioning.”
She turned toward another detective.
“Find him.”
Vanessa suddenly spoke.
“You’re making a mistake.”
Nathan looked at her.
“Which mistake?”
“Destroying everything because of one confused child.”
Eli flinched.
Nathan’s patience broke.
“He saw you.”
“He thinks he saw something.”
“They found the bottle in your purse.”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
“I use herbal sleep drops.”
“The vial wasn’t sleep medication.”
“My lawyer will handle that.”
Nathan leaned closer.
“And Mark?”
“What about him?”
“Did he give it to you?”
“No.”
The lie came smoothly.
Too smoothly.
Nathan realized with growing horror how many times he had probably heard that same tone during their marriage.
The police eventually escorted Vanessa from the hotel.
She was not formally charged yet, but she was taken for questioning.
Nathan watched her disappear through the revolving doors.
His entire life felt unreal.
Then he remembered Eli.
The boy was sitting alone on a chair near the kitchen entrance, stuffing crackers from the table into his jacket pockets.
Nathan walked over.
“Hungry?”
Eli stopped.
“I’m saving them.”
“For later?”
He nodded.
Nathan called the hotel manager.
“Bring him whatever he wants.”
Eli shook his head.
“No.”
Nathan frowned.
“Why not?”
“People give things and then want something.”
The words hit harder than Nathan expected.
“I don’t want anything.”
Eli studied him suspiciously.
“You’re rich.”
Nathan almost smiled.
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Rich people always want something.”
Nathan sat beside him.
“Who taught you that?”
“My mom.”
The boy’s expression changed when he said it.
Nathan didn’t push.
Instead he ordered soup, grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and warm bread.
Eli ate cautiously at first.
Then hunger took over.
Nathan watched him finish almost everything.
“How long have you been sleeping outside?”
Eli slowed.
“A while.”
“How long?”
“Since March.”
It was November.
Nathan stared.
“Eight months?”
Eli shrugged.
“Sometimes shelters. Sometimes buildings.”
Nathan looked toward Detective Morgan.
She was speaking on the phone near the entrance.
Nathan lowered his voice.
“Why aren’t you in foster care?”
Eli’s face hardened instantly.
“I’m not going back.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Eli—”
“I said nothing.”
Nathan recognized panic disguised as anger.
He changed the subject.
“What was your mother’s name?”
The spoon stopped halfway to Eli’s mouth.
“Sarah.”
Nathan nodded gently.
“What happened to her?”
Eli stared into the soup.
“She got sick.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She kept saying she’d get better.”
Nathan swallowed.
“My mother used to say the same thing.”
Eli looked up.
Nathan rarely spoke about his childhood.
His mother had died when he was thirteen.
His father had disappeared into alcohol afterward.
Nathan understood more about being alone than most people assumed.
Detective Morgan returned.
“We found Mark’s car.”
Nathan stood.
“Where?”
“Parking garage beneath one of your company buildings.”
“And Mark?”
“Gone.”
Nathan’s pulse quickened.
Rachel continued.
“There’s more.”
She held out her phone.
A security image showed Mark entering the building forty minutes earlier carrying a black duffel bag.
Twenty minutes later he exited through another entrance.
Without the bag.
Nathan frowned.
“What’s inside?”
“We don’t know yet. Bomb squad is checking because nobody wants surprises tonight.”
Then Rachel’s phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Her expression changed.
“Understood.”
She ended the call.
“What?” Nathan asked.
“The plate analysis came back.”
Nathan waited.
“The substance wasn’t just capable of interacting with your medication.”
Rachel paused.
“It was specifically chosen because of it.”
Nathan’s mouth went dry.
“This wasn’t random.”
“No.”
Someone had researched exactly how to make Nathan’s death look natural.
Rachel continued.
“And there’s another problem.”
“What?”
“We checked your prescription records.”
Nathan waited.
“Your pharmacy account was accessed yesterday from an outside computer.”
“By whom?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Eli quietly approached.
Nathan looked down.
The boy was holding a folded piece of paper.
“What’s that?”
“I forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
“When the man gave your wife the bottle, this fell from his pocket.”
Nathan unfolded it.
A handwritten list of times appeared on one side.
Hotel dinner.
8:30 p.m.
Nathan medication.
7:00 p.m.
Board announcement.
9:15 a.m.
Transfer authorization.
Below that were six numbers.
Nathan knew exactly what they were.
The final six digits of his private investment account.
An account worth more than forty million dollars.
Nathan stared at Eli.
“Why didn’t you show the police?”
Eli whispered, “Because there was something written on the back.”
Nathan flipped the paper over.
Three words were written there.
AFTER NATHAN DIES.
May you like
And beneath them—
FIND THE BOY.
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