Chapter 5: The Man Still in the House
I didn't sleep.
By four in the morning I had read Genevieve's letter eleven times.
The words hadn't changed.
They weren't going to.
At five-fifteen, Dr.
Yates arrived through the service entrance.
Prescott met him at the door and walked him directly to the twins' suite without passing through any corridor where Aldric's cameras had coverage.
I had pulled the estate's internal camera map two hours earlier.
Aldric had installed three additional units in the past year.
None of them were on the approved security log.
Yates worked quietly.
Air samples from four points in the suite.
Swabs from the ventilation grilles.
A water sample from the tap the twins used to take their medication each morning.
"How long for results?" I said.
"If I call in a favor at the university lab, twenty-four hours.
Maybe less."
"Call in every favor you have."
He looked at me over the sample cases.
"Lawson.
If I find what you're suggesting I might find—"
"Then we'll know," I said.
"That's all I need right now.
We'll know."
He left before six.
The twins were still asleep.
Jonah had his arm across Blythe's shoulder.
She had her face turned toward him.
I stood at the glass for a long time.
At eight, Aldric arrived in my office doorway with his usual morning briefing folder.
Pressed shirt.
Calm face.
Six years of practiced calm.
"Good morning, Mr.
Mercer.
I heard Dr.
Yates was here last night.
Is there any update on the children?"
"No change," I said.
"Sit down, Aldric."
He sat.
"I want to talk about the south wing filtration system," I said.
"The installation fourteen months ago.
Walk me through who you used."
Not a flicker.
"Hartwell Environmental.
They came recommended through our regular contractor.
I can pull the full invoice if you'd like."
"Please."
He made a note.
His pen moved smoothly.
His hand was perfectly still.
"Was anyone else involved in specifying the system?" I said.
"Any outside consultation?"
"I may have had a brief conversation with an engineer Crosby Vane recommended.
His brother runs a property management firm, as you know.
I thought the referral was harmless."
There it was.
Offered voluntarily.
Casually.
A man laying down a small truth to bury a larger one.
"Of course," I said.
"That makes sense."
He smiled and stood.
"I'll have that invoice to you by noon."
He left.
His footsteps were unhurried down the corridor.
Prescott appeared in the doorway thirty seconds later.
"He's going to run," Prescott said.
"Not yet.
He thinks he's still ahead of us." I turned to the window.
"But he'll contact Crosby today.
Within the hour, probably.
I need someone on that call."
"Already arranged." Prescott held up his phone.
"Our man has been on Crosby's personal line since six this morning."
I looked at him.
"You started before I asked."
"You would have asked."
I turned back to the window.
Outside, the estate grounds were grey and still.
Frost on the grass.
The twelve-foot walls in the distance.
Somewhere behind those walls, Crosby Vane was about to learn that his plan had a problem.
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
May you like
Four words.
*He already called Crosby.*
