Chapter 4 - THE SECOND STORY
“Stop.”
The paramedic looked at me.
“What?”
“Which hospital are we going to?”
“St. Catherine’s.”
My stomach dropped.
St. Catherine’s.
My father sat on its board.
Preston had donated millions to its pediatric wing.
“Change hospitals.”
The paramedic frowned.
“Ma’am?”
“Please.”
“We’re already six minutes out.”
“Go somewhere else.”
“Why?”
I looked at Sophie.
How much could I say?
How much would sound insane?
“My family has connections there.”
“That’s usually a good thing.”
“Not tonight.”
The paramedic studied my face.
“I need you to explain.”
“My brother assaulted my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“He framed her for theft.”
The paramedic nodded slowly.
“And someone just called me saying St. Catherine’s was told that I injured her.”
His expression changed.
“Who called?”
“I don’t know.”
“That could be a prank.”
“It could.”
“But?”
“My father is on St. Catherine’s board.”
The paramedic looked toward his partner.
They exchanged a glance.
Then he reached for the radio.
“We can divert to Northwestern Memorial.”
“Do it.”
He radioed the driver.
The ambulance changed direction.
I looked down at Sophie.
She was watching me.
“Are we hiding?”
My heart broke.
“No, sweetheart.”
“From Grandpa?”
I hesitated.
Children noticed more than adults realized.
“We’re going somewhere safe.”
She nodded.
Then whispered.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“I saw Uncle Preston talking to Grandma before he took the microphone.”
I froze.
“When?”
“Before he said his phone was gone.”
“What were they doing?”
Sophie thought.
“Grandma gave him something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was it a phone?”
She shook her head.
“Paper.”
“What kind of paper?”
“A white envelope.”
My pulse quickened.
“Did you hear anything?”
Sophie frowned.
“He said you had to leave.”
I stopped breathing.
“What exactly did he say?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Try, sweetheart.”
She closed her eyes.
“He said...”
A pause.
“Dad signs tonight.”
My entire body went cold.
“And Grandma said...”
Sophie’s forehead wrinkled.
“Evelyn cannot be in the room.”
I stared at her.
My mother knew.
She had known before Preston accused Sophie.
Before the phone appeared.
Before the violence.
She had been part of whatever they were planning.
I leaned back against the ambulance wall.
For thirty years, I had told myself my mother merely enabled Preston.
Maybe she wasn’t cruel.
Maybe she was weak.
Maybe she loved us differently.
Maybe she didn’t understand.
Those excuses died inside that ambulance.
She understood.
She had chosen.
Again and again.
And tonight she had chosen something that put my daughter in danger.
My phone buzzed.
A text.
Unknown number.
YOU CHANGED HOSPITALS.
I stared at it.
Another message appeared.
GOOD.
Then another.
DO NOT TELL POLICE ABOUT THE TRUST YET.
I typed back.
WHO ARE YOU?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
I waited.
Nothing.
I typed again.
HOW DO YOU KNOW WHERE I AM?
No answer.
My phone rang.
This time it was Officer Ramirez.
I answered immediately.
“Officer?”
“Ms. Whitmore, where are you?”
“We changed hospitals.”
“Why?”
I hesitated.
“Someone called me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did they say?”
“That St. Catherine’s had been told I hurt Sophie.”
Silence.
“Who knew you were headed there?”
“The paramedics.”
“And everyone at the hotel could have assumed it.”
“My father sits on the board.”
Another pause.
“Send me the number that called you.”
“I will.”
“Do not delete anything.”
“I won’t.”
“What about the hotel footage?”
“That’s why I’m calling.”
My chest tightened.
“What happened?”
“Security recovered part of it.”
“Part?”
“Someone deleted several camera files.”
“Daniel?”
“Maybe.”
“But?”
“The ballroom system creates a secondary buffer.”
I sat upright.
“Did it record Preston?”
“I haven’t seen it yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s another problem.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“Mr. Cross disappeared.”
I stared at the phone.
“What do you mean disappeared?”
“He was being escorted to a private security office.”
“And?”
“The hotel fire alarm activated on the west side.”
My skin prickled.
“During the evacuation confusion, someone opened the service exit.”
“Daniel left?”
“We don’t know whether he left willingly.”
“What does that mean?”
“We found blood near the loading dock.”
I closed my eyes.
“Is he hurt?”
“We don’t know.”
“Where is Preston?”
A pause.
“Still at the hotel.”
“My parents?”
“Also here.”
“And the wedding?”
Ramirez gave a humorless breath.
“That’s effectively over.”
I looked at Sophie.
“Did Preston delete the video?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Officer.”
“Yes?”
“Daniel told me something before I left.”
“What?”
I remembered the text.
DO NOT TELL POLICE ABOUT THE TRUST YET.
Why?
Who was sending these messages?
Why should I trust them?
I chose carefully.
“He said Preston had been planning something before tonight.”
“That’s vague.”
“I know.”
“Anything else?”
I looked at the trust document on my phone.
“Not yet.”
Ramirez became quiet.
“Ms. Whitmore, if you’re withholding something related to your daughter’s assault, I need to know.”
“I understand.”
“Then tell me.”
I almost did.
Then another text appeared.
DON’T.
A second message followed.
RAMIREZ IS SAFE.
BUT HIS PARTNER ISN’T.
My blood ran cold.
I looked toward the rear windows of the ambulance.
A police cruiser was following us.
Officer Ramirez wasn’t inside.
Another officer was.
His partner.
The same officer who had been standing near Preston.
My breathing changed.
“Ms. Whitmore?”
“I have to go.”
“Wait.”
I ended the call.
The paramedic looked at me.
“Everything okay?”
“No.”
I showed him the message.
He read it.
His face tightened.
“That could be someone trying to scare you.”
“Yes.”
“But we shouldn’t ignore it.”
“No.”
He looked toward the front.
The police cruiser remained behind us.
Then my phone buzzed again.
LOOK AT THE CRUISER.
I looked.
Nothing seemed unusual.
Then the cruiser’s lights switched off.
It slowed.
The ambulance continued forward.
The cruiser fell farther behind.
My phone buzzed.
HE’S NOT FOLLOWING YOU ANYMORE.
I stared through the glass.
The cruiser turned onto another street.
Then disappeared.
Another message arrived.
NOW YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES.
TEN MINUTES FOR WHAT?
I typed.
The response came instantly.
TO FIND OUT WHY PRESTON NEEDED SOPHIE TO LOOK LIKE A THIEF.
I stared at the words.
Then another message appeared.
May you like
IT WASN’T ABOUT THE PHONE.
IT WAS ABOUT HER NAME.
