Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3 — The Twin Key
The scratch on Leo’s wrist wasn't from a medical needle at the hospital.
I checked his chart; all his IV lines were in his left arm and his neck.
This mark was on his right wrist, hidden beneath the elastic band of his pajama sleeve.
Someone had held my son down and injected him with something before forcing him to drink the juice.
Or perhaps, the injection was the sedative itself.
I left the hospital room, my heart hammering against my ribs as the puzzle pieces began to align into a terrifying picture.
I needed to get back into my house.
Despite the police tape, despite the guard that Miller had undoubtedly posted, I had to find the entry point.
I slipped out of the hospital through the basement garage, evading Sarah Vance and the unmarked cruiser parked at the main entrance.
I took a subway to the edge of our neighborhood, walking the remaining blocks through the shadows of the old oak trees.
The rain had returned, a soft, freezing drizzle that blurred the streetlamps.
Our house looked even darker now, the yellow police tape fluttering in the wind like caution flags.
There was no cruiser in the driveway; Miller had likely withdrawn the physical guard, believing the locked doors were secure enough.
I didn't use the front door.
I crept around to the side of the house, where the small cellar door was hidden beneath a wooden deck.
Mark and I had lived here for seven years, and we had only used the cellar to store old paint cans and holiday decorations.
The door was secured with a heavy, brass padlock.
I reached into my pocket, pulling out my key ring, searching for the small, rusted key that opened it.
But when I touched the lock, it swung open.
It wasn't locked.
The heavy brass shackle had been cut cleanly from the inside, the metal shiny and free of rust where the blade had sliced through.
I pushed the door open, the hinges groaning softly as I descended into the damp, cold darkness of the basement.
The air here smelled of mold, wet earth, and that same bitter, chemical scent that had filled the living room.
I clicked on my phone’s flashlight, the thin beam cutting through the dust motes.
Near the bottom of the wooden stairs, something glinted on the concrete floor.
I knelt down, my hand shaking as I picked it up.
A small, glass vial.
The label had been peeled off, but a few letters of the printed brand were still visible on the adhesive residue: H-E-L-I-O-S.
My breath stopped.
Helios.
The multi-billion-dollar pharmaceutical conglomerate where my sister’s husband, Daniel Carter, worked as a chief research officer.
The same Daniel Carter who had desperately tried to buy out our father’s estate three months ago.
The same Daniel Carter who had threatened to ruin my family if I didn't sign over my portion of the land.
The land that sat directly above a natural lithium deposit.
I stood up, the coldness of the concrete floor seeping into my boots, my mind racing through the implications.
It wasn't a domestic tragedy.
It wasn't a husband’s despair.
It was a corporate execution, masked as a murder-suicide to eliminate the only obstacle to a multi-million-dollar land acquisition.
And my sister, Isabel, had been the one to lure me away from the house to ensure I had no alibi.
A floorboard creaked above my head.
May you like
A slow, deliberate step in the kitchen directly above the basement stairs.
Someone was in the house.
