Chapter 3 - The Brother No One Named
Dean stared at the photograph until his injured hand began to shake.
Nora noticed.
“Dean?”
He did not answer.
The picture looked decades old.
Two boys.
Perhaps eight and ten.
Standing beside the same man.
Dean’s father.
Nora recognized him from old newspaper photographs she had seen on television documentaries about Chicago’s most powerful families.
Victor Campbell.
Businessman.
Philanthropist.
Suspected crime figure.
Never convicted.
Dead for twenty-two years.
Dean touched the younger boy’s face.
“Adrian.”
The gray-haired woman remained near the door.
Dean looked up.
“Tell me.”
Her name was Margaret Vale.
She had once served as Victor Campbell’s personal attorney.
That much Dean remembered.
She had vanished from the family’s world after Victor’s death.
“I can’t give you twenty-two years in one sentence,” Margaret said.
“Try.”
Margaret looked at Nora.
“This is family business.”
Dean’s answer came instantly.
“She stays.”
Nora blinked.
Margaret studied her.
Then nodded.
“Your father had two sons.”
Dean’s jaw tightened.
“I had no brother.”
“You had one.”
“With whom?”
Margaret hesitated.
“Celeste Russo.”
Dean understood the surname.
His eyes closed.
Adrian’s mother.
For years, Dean had believed Adrian’s father was a dockworker who died when Adrian was young.
Victor Campbell had taken Adrian in afterward.
Paid for his schooling.
Gave him work.
Allowed him near Dean.
Made him family without ever calling him family.
“He knew,” Dean whispered.
Margaret nodded.
“Victor knew.”
Dean looked down at the photograph.
“And Adrian?”
“I don’t know when he learned.”
Nora thought of Adrian’s anger.
You built everything around yourself.
You strangled it.
Maybe he had not simply wanted Dean’s position.
Maybe he believed it belonged to him.
Margaret continued.
“Victor intended to leave part of the legitimate business holdings to Adrian.”
“Part?”
“Thirty percent.”
Dean looked up.
“I inherited all of it.”
“Because your father changed his will three weeks before he died.”
Dean’s expression sharpened.
“Why?”
“That’s what I never discovered.”
Margaret walked closer.
“Victor came to me frightened. I had never seen him frightened before.”
“Of what?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
She looked at the photograph.
“He changed everything. Removed Adrian. Added protections around your inheritance. Then he gave me that envelope.”
“And told you to wait?”
“Until someone from inside the family tried to kill you.”
Nora felt cold.
Victor had expected this.
Twenty-two years earlier.
Dean looked at Margaret.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because your father made me swear.”
“My father made people swear many things.”
“Yes.”
“And most of them got killed for keeping those promises.”
Margaret flinched.
Dean saw it.
“What else?”
Nothing.
Too quickly.
Dean’s eyes hardened.
“What else, Margaret?”
She looked toward Nora again.
Nora crossed her arms.
“I’m not leaving.”
Margaret exhaled.
“Your father believed someone wanted both sons.”
Dean leaned forward despite the pain.
“Who?”
“He never told me.”
“Then what good is any of this?”
“He left records.”
Dean stopped.
“What records?”
“A ledger.”
“Where?”
Margaret shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Dean stared at her.
“You came here after twenty-two years to tell me my closest friend is my half-brother, that my father expected him to try to kill me, and that there is a ledger somewhere that might explain why.”
“Yes.”
Dean let out a humorless laugh.
“Excellent.”
His monitors changed.
Nora moved closer.
“Lie back.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding through your bandage.”
He looked down.
A red stain spread slowly beneath the navy robe.
Nora’s tone hardened.
“Now.”
Dean obeyed.
Margaret’s eyebrows rose.
Nora caught the expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
“I have known Dean since he was a child.”
“And?”
“I have never seen anyone make him lie down.”
Dean closed his eyes.
“I’m starting to regret keeping you here.”
Nora adjusted his dressing.
“No, you’re not.”
His mouth almost twitched.
Then the door opened.
Two detectives entered.
Detective Rachel Kim.
Detective Thomas Greer.
Chicago police.
Dean’s attorney followed.
Everything changed again.
The next two hours were formal.
Questions.
Timelines.
Evidence.
Adrian Russo had disappeared.
So had two of the armed men.
One had been arrested downstairs after attempting to leave through the loading dock.
The syringe was recovered.
Preliminary testing showed a concentrated cardiac medication that, in Dean’s weakened condition, could have stopped his heart.
The IV bag contained another compound designed to lower blood pressure and depress respiration.
Either could have killed him.
Together, they almost certainly would have.
Dr. Ellis was placed under investigation.
He admitted receiving a large payment through an offshore account.
He insisted he did not know Dean would be murdered.
Nobody believed him.
The hospital suspended him.
Police took him away.
Nora sat quietly during most of the interview.
Then Detective Kim asked the question Nora had been waiting for.
“Why were you assigned to Mr. Campbell’s room?”
Nora frowned.
“Charge nurse assignment.”
Kim looked at her notes.
“Not according to the schedule.”
Nora’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
“You were assigned to the cardiac floor.”
“I was.”
“Then you were reassigned at 11:12 p.m.”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
Nora thought.
The message had appeared on the staff tablet.
Private floor.
VIP patient.
Immediate coverage.
She had assumed the nursing supervisor made the change.
“I don’t know.”
Detective Kim turned the tablet around.
“The reassignment originated from an administrator account.”
“Whose?”
“Dr. Ellis.”
Nora stared at her.
Dean looked over.
Kim continued.
“Which raises a question.”
“What question?”
“If Ellis was involved in the attempt on Mr. Campbell’s life, why would he deliberately assign the nurse who stopped it?”
Silence.
Nora replayed the night.
Ellis had tried to make her leave.
He had ordered her to stop questioning the medication.
But he had apparently summoned her to the room.
Why?
Dean watched her.
“Maybe he didn’t.”
Kim nodded.
“That’s what we think.”
She slid another document onto the table.
“The login was Ellis’s. But the access came from another terminal.”
“Where?”
Kim looked at Nora.
“The basement pharmacy.”
Nora’s pulse quickened.
“Who had access?”
“Several employees.”
Dean asked, “Names.”
Kim hesitated.
Dean’s lawyer leaned forward.
“Detective.”
Kim looked at him.
“We’re cooperating.”
“This is an active investigation.”
Dean spoke quietly.
“Someone put Nora in that room.”
Everyone looked at him.
He continued.
“If they wanted me dead, why put her there?”
Nora knew the answer before anyone said it.
“Because someone wanted me to notice.”
Detective Kim nodded.
“Possibly.”
Margaret stood near the window.
She had been silent.
Now she looked at Nora carefully.
“What exactly did you notice first?”
“The tremor.”
“No. Before that.”
Nora thought.
“The medication label.”
“What about it?”
“The number.”
“42-17.”
“Yes.”
Margaret went pale.
Dean noticed.
“You know it.”
Margaret stepped backward.
“No.”
“You do.”
“It could mean anything.”
Dean’s voice became ice.
“Margaret.”
She looked at him.
Then at Nora.
“It isn’t a warehouse number.”
Dean stared.
“You said—”
“I never said that. You did.”
Dean’s expression changed.
Nora remembered.
He had recognized 42 as Warehouse 42.
But 17?
Margaret walked toward the photograph.
“Victor used number codes for private files.”
Dean slowly sat straighter.
“What was 42-17?”
Margaret whispered, “Family succession.”
Nobody moved.
“What does that mean?” Nora asked.
Margaret’s voice lowered.
“File forty-two. Page seventeen.”
Dean watched her.
“Where is the file?”
“I thought it was destroyed.”
“Where?”
Margaret swallowed.
“Your father’s old lake house.”
Dean’s gaze hardened.
“The one in Wisconsin?”
“Yes.”
“That property burned down.”
“The main house did.”
Nora felt something shift.
“What didn’t?”
Margaret looked at Dean.
“The underground records room.”
Detective Kim stood.
“Nobody goes anywhere until we secure it.”
Dean almost smiled.
“Detective, if Adrian knows about that file, we don’t have time.”
“You’re not leaving this hospital.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
Nora put a hand on his shoulder.
“You are absolutely not leaving this hospital.”
Dean looked up.
“Et tu?”
“You were almost dead an hour ago.”
“Almost.”
“That is not a medical clearance.”
Margaret’s phone suddenly rang.
Everyone looked at her.
She checked the screen.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
Her face changed.
She turned the phone speaker on.
A man’s voice filled the room.
Adrian.
“Hello, brother.”
Dean’s expression became stone.
“Where are you?”
Adrian laughed softly.
“You always skip the sentimental part.”
“What do you want?”
“You know what I want.”
“The ledger?”
A pause.
Then Adrian said, “So Margaret finally talked.”
Margaret looked terrified.
Dean’s voice lowered.
“You tried to kill me.”
“No.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed.
Adrian continued.
“If I wanted you dead, Nora would never have entered that room.”
Nora froze.
Dean looked at her.
Adrian said, “I sent her.”
The room went silent.
Nora’s mouth went dry.
“You reassigned me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed someone who would notice the medication.”
Dean stared at the phone.
“Then who poisoned it?”
Adrian’s voice lost all humor.
“The same person who killed our father.”
Margaret made a sound.
Small.
Broken.
Dean turned toward her.
Adrian continued.
“And if you still think I’m your enemy, ask Margaret what she removed from Victor’s body before the police arrived.”
Dean’s face changed.
Margaret backed toward the wall.
“Turn it off.”
Dean stood despite Nora trying to stop him.
“What did you take?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Dean—”
“What did you take from my father?”
Adrian’s voice came one final time through the phone.
“Check her necklace.”
Everyone looked at Margaret.
Her hand flew instinctively to the silver chain at her throat.
Dean saw it.
Nora saw it.
Margaret closed her fist around the pendant.
Dean stepped toward her.
“Open your hand.”
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears.
“No.”
“Open it.”
She slowly loosened her fingers.
A tiny brass key lay against her palm.
Dean stared at it.
Then someone knocked three times on the hospital door.
Detective Kim reached for her weapon.
The door handle turned.
May you like
Margaret whispered, “That key opens the room beneath the lake house.”
The door began to open.
