Chapter 2 - The Evidence in Norah’s Locker
Marcus placed a photograph beside the key.
It showed Gideon’s medication schedule.
Every dosage had been marked.
Every breakfast had been marked.
And Norah Blake’s name was written across the bottom.
“I’ve never seen that paper,” Norah said.
Marcus studied her.
“Your locker was locked.”
“With my padlock.”
“Was it damaged?”
“No.”
“Who has a spare?”
“No one.”
Gideon interrupted.
“Someone does.”
Marcus looked at him.
Gideon’s condition had improved enough that Dr. Shah had allowed him to sit more upright, but his hands still trembled slightly when he moved.
“People don’t plant evidence in locked rooms without a way inside,” Gideon said.
Norah stared at the photograph.
She recognized the locker.
Her spare shoes were visible.
Her gray sweater.
The paperback novel she read during lunch.
Someone had placed the key and paper beneath them.
It was designed to be found.
That realization was almost worse than the accusation itself.
“Why me?” she whispered.
Gideon heard.
“That is the right question.”
Marcus folded his arms.
“Or the obvious answer is the right answer.”
Norah looked at him.
“You think I poisoned him?”
“I think evidence was found in your locker.”
“I’m the person who stopped him drinking the juice.”
“That could establish innocence.”
“Or?”
Marcus did not soften.
“Or establish it theatrically.”
Norah went pale.
Gideon watched the exchange.
“Leave us.”
Marcus frowned.
“Gideon.”
“Outside.”
Marcus obeyed reluctantly.
Norah remained near the door.
Gideon gestured toward the chair.
“Sit.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“So would I.”
She almost laughed.
Almost.
Instead she sat.
Gideon studied her for a long moment.
“Did you do this?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Norah blinked.
“That’s it?”
“No. But I wanted to hear how you answered.”
“And?”
“You were angry before you were frightened.”
“Because I’m being framed.”
“Perhaps.”
She stood.
“If you don’t believe me, call the police.”
“That would be inconvenient.”
“For whom?”
“Everyone.”
There it was.
The difference between Gideon’s world and hers.
Norah could lose her job because someone had planted a key.
Gideon could apparently decide whether ordinary rules entered his bedroom.
She stared at him.
“I don’t care how powerful you are. I didn’t hurt you.”
Something in his expression changed.
Not anger.
Interest.
“Most people care very much how powerful I am.”
“I need my paycheck more than I need to impress you.”
That earned the faintest smile.
“Sit down, Norah.”
This time she did.
Gideon asked about her routines.
Who knew her locker combination?
Nobody.
Who saw her arrive?
Dozens of employees.
When did she take lunch?
Usually 1:30.
Where?
Staff room unless it was crowded.
Had anyone recently asked questions about Gideon?
Norah initially said no.
Then remembered.
“Mrs. Calder asked whether you were eating.”
“When?”
“About a week ago.”
“That’s normal for a house manager.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Norah hesitated.
“A kitchen assistant asked whether you finished your drinks.”
Gideon’s eyes sharpened.
“Name.”
“Evan Pike.”
“Exactly what did he ask?”
Norah thought back.
She had been washing the breakfast glass.
Evan had stood beside the industrial refrigerator.
He had said it casually.
Does he actually drink that stuff?
Norah had shrugged.
Most of it.
Then Evan had asked:
Every day?
“Yes,” Norah said slowly. “He wanted to know whether you drank it every day.”
Gideon reached for the bedside phone.
He called Marcus.
“Bring me Evan Pike.”
Marcus answered after a pause.
“He’s gone.”
Norah stared.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“His car is here. He isn’t.”
The estate went into lockdown.
Security searched the grounds.
Norah waited.
Two hours later, they found Evan’s uniform jacket near a service gate.
No Evan.
His employee phone had been left inside the pocket.
Marcus searched the device.
Most messages were ordinary.
Then he found one deleted thread recovered from cloud backup.
The sender was saved only as “M.”
One message had been sent nineteen days earlier.
CHANGE IT TONIGHT.
Another arrived the next morning.
SHE’LL TAKE THE TRAY UP.
Norah read the words twice.
“She?”
Marcus nodded.
“Could mean you.”
“Or Mrs. Calder.”
“Or anyone.”
Gideon asked, “Can you trace M?”
“We’re working on it.”
Norah noticed the time stamps.
The first message had been sent at 11:47 p.m.
The second at 6:12 a.m.
Something bothered her.
“Evan didn’t work mornings then.”
Marcus looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“He complained about it constantly. He was on evening shift until Mrs. Calder injured her wrist.”
Marcus checked employment records.
Norah was right.
“So why tell him who would take the tray upstairs?” Gideon asked.
Norah thought.
“Because maybe the message wasn’t about the breakfast.”
Gideon looked at her.
“What else was changed that night?”
They began reconstructing the day before Gideon collapsed.
His medication dosage.
His schedule.
His meals.
Visitors.
Security assignments.
Dr. Voss had arrived for a routine consultation.
Gideon’s attorney had visited.
His cousin Dominic had attended dinner.
Two business associates had spent forty minutes in Gideon’s study.
And at 10:15 p.m., a new shipment of medication had arrived.
Signed for by Evan Pike.
Marcus swore quietly.
“Who ordered it?”
The electronic record said Dr. Voss.
Norah’s stomach tightened.
Gideon called Voss back into the room.
The physician arrived furious at being questioned.
“I did not order that dosage.”
“Your authorization says otherwise,” Marcus said.
“My credentials were used.”
“By whom?”
“How would I know?”
Gideon watched him.
Voss’s anger seemed genuine.
But fear could wear many costumes.
Dr. Shah examined the records remotely and found something strange.
The prescription had been approved from Voss’s account at 2:13 a.m.
Voss had been asleep in a hotel across town.
His phone records showed no activity.
His hospital login showed another connection minutes later.
Someone had stolen his credentials.
That did not clear him.
But it widened the circle.
By midnight, Norah was exhausted.
She had not been allowed home.
Gideon ordered a guest room prepared for her.
“I don’t want a guest room.”
“What do you want?”
“My own bed.”
“Someone framed you for attempted murder.”
“Then I definitely want my own bed.”
“You think going home makes you safer?”
Norah had no answer.
Gideon did.
“It doesn’t.”
She hated that he was probably right.
Before leaving his room, she turned.
“Why are you trusting me?”
Gideon glanced at the glass still sealed inside an evidence bag.
“I’m not.”
Norah frowned.
“You told Marcus—”
“I said you noticed something useful. Trust is different.”
“Then why keep me close?”
“Because whoever did this wants me to believe you’re guilty.”
He paused.
“That makes you useful twice.”
Norah should have been offended.
Instead she understood.
“You’re watching what happens around me.”
“Yes.”
“And using me as bait.”
Gideon did not deny it.
Norah stared at him.
“You really are terrible.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
It became a cough.
When it stopped, his expression was almost amused.
“So I’ve been told.”
Norah went to the guest room.
She locked the door.
Then she pushed a chair beneath the handle.
Sleep refused to come.
At 2:08 a.m., she heard something outside.
A soft scrape.
Then silence.
Norah sat up.
Another scrape.
Someone was touching the door.
She reached for her phone.
No signal.
That was impossible.
The estate had internal coverage everywhere.
She moved toward the window.
Locked.
Then the hallway light beneath her door disappeared.
Someone was standing outside.
Norah backed away.
The handle moved once.
Slowly.
The chair held.
She grabbed the heavy bedside lamp.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
The handle moved again.
Then stopped.
Footsteps retreated.
Norah waited thirty seconds before opening the door.
The hallway was empty.
She hurried toward Gideon’s room.
Marcus met her halfway with two guards.
“What happened?”
“Someone tried my door.”
They searched.
Nothing.
Then Gideon’s medical alarm sounded.
Everyone ran.
Dr. Shah reached him first.
His IV line had been disconnected.
The medication bag hanging above his bed was not the bag Shah had ordered.
Marcus lifted it.
A handwritten label had been taped to the back.
Two letters were written in black ink.
N.B.
Norah stared at them.
Then Gideon opened his eyes.
“Norah.”
“I’m here.”
He looked past her toward the open doorway.
His face changed.
Someone had appeared there.
Someone Norah recognized.
May you like
And Gideon whispered a name she had never heard before.
“Dominic.”
