Chapter 2 - The Machine Beside His Wheelchair
Vincent stared at Mateo.
“What did you say?”
The boy pointed toward the humidifier.
“That thing smells bad.”
“I don't smell anything.”
Mateo stepped closer.
“Exactly.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
His sense of smell had almost completely disappeared several weeks earlier.
Another unexplained symptom.
Mateo crouched beside the humidifier.
“Don't touch it,” Vincent ordered.
Mateo froze.
“My grandma has one.”
“Congratulations.”
“She cleans hers.”
Vincent almost smiled.
Almost.
“This one gets cleaned every morning.”
Mateo wrinkled his nose.
“No.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“How would you know?”
“Because it smells funny.”
“Like what?”
Mateo thought.
“Grandpa’s shed.”
Vincent’s fingers tightened around his wheelchair.
“What was in your grandfather’s shed?”
“The stuff he used for mice.”
Vincent stopped breathing for a moment.
Before he could ask another question, the greenhouse door opened.
“Mateo!”
Rosa rushed inside.
Her face went white when she saw her son standing beside Vincent.
“I am so sorry, Mr. Blackwood. I told him not to leave the room.”
“Stop.”
Rosa froze.
Vincent pointed toward the humidifier.
“Who cleans that?”
“What?”
“Every morning. Who touches that machine?”
Rosa thought for a moment.
Then answered.
“Mr. Vane’s private nurse.”
Silence.
Vincent looked at her.
“Marcus’s nurse?”
“Yes.”
Marcus had personally selected most of Vincent’s medical staff.
Vincent looked at the dead moth in Mateo’s hand.
Then toward the humidifier.
Something inside him suddenly became very cold.
“Rosa.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Call Daniel Reeves.”
Her eyebrows rose.
Daniel had protected the Blackwood family for seventeen years before Marcus unexpectedly reassigned him to a distant coastal facility.
“Do you mean your former security chief?”
“Yes.”
“Should I contact Mr. Vane first?”
“No.”
Vincent lowered his voice.
“Marcus cannot know.”
Rosa understood immediately.
Thirty minutes later, Daniel Reeves entered through the service entrance.
He walked into the greenhouse and stopped when he saw Vincent.
“You look terrible.”
Vincent raised an eyebrow.
“Nice to see you too.”
Daniel glanced toward Rosa and Mateo.
“What happened?”
Vincent pointed toward the humidifier.
“That.”
Daniel approached it without touching it.
“Who has access?”
“Marcus’s nurse.”
“Anyone else?”
“Marcus.”
Daniel looked at Vincent.
Neither man spoke for several seconds.
Finally Daniel said, “We're going to need a laboratory.”
“Not one connected to my doctors.”
“Agreed.”
Daniel sealed the humidifier.
Then he collected Vincent’s medication.
His supplements.
His water pitcher.
And the herbal tea Vanessa had insisted he drink every night.
As Daniel prepared to leave, Vincent grabbed his arm.
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“If this is nothing…”
“It stays between us.”
“And if it isn't?”
Daniel looked toward the sealed humidifier.
“Then somebody made a very serious mistake.”
Vincent shook his head.
“No.”
Daniel looked back.
Vincent’s voice became colder.
“They made two.”
“What’s the second?”
“They left me alive.”
Twenty-one hours later, Daniel returned.
This time he locked the greenhouse doors behind him.
Vincent saw the answer in his face.
“What did they find?”
Daniel placed a laboratory report on Vincent’s blanket.
“Your humidifier reservoir contains a toxic pesticide compound.”
Vincent said nothing.
“Not enough to kill you immediately,” Daniel continued. “But repeated exposure could explain the headaches, tremors, weakness, respiratory problems, and confusion.”
Vincent looked down at his hands.
“And my medication?”
“Two pills were contaminated.”
“The tea?”
“Clean.”
“Water?”
“Clean.”
Vincent slowly looked up.
“So I'm not dying.”
Daniel hesitated.
“You were.”
The words landed heavily.
“Just not naturally.”
Vincent wheeled himself toward the greenhouse window.
For weeks, Marcus had been talking about succession.
Preparing documents.
Taking control.
Vincent finally understood why.
Marcus hadn't been preparing for his death.
He had been scheduling it.
Then Vincent remembered something.
“Vanessa.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What about her?”
“The vault key.”
Daniel’s expression tightened.
“We checked the security footage again.”
“And?”
“Vanessa didn't leave alone.”
Daniel placed a photograph in Vincent’s hands.
A black SUV was following Vanessa’s Mercedes.
“Whose vehicle?”
“Registered to a holding company.”
Vincent already knew the answer.
“Marcus.”
Daniel nodded.
Vincent stared at the photograph.
His illness.
Vanessa’s disappearance.
The missing key.
Marcus’s succession plan.
They weren't separate events.
They were pieces of the same plan.
Daniel leaned closer.
“What do you want to do?”
Vincent pushed against the wheelchair arms.
His hands trembled.
But they obeyed.
“Nothing.”
Daniel frowned.
“Nothing?”
“Marcus thinks I'm dying.”
“Yes.”
May you like
Vincent looked toward the dead moth still resting inside a small glass jar Mateo had left behind.
“Then let's make sure he keeps believing it.”
