Chapter 4 - Someone Wanted Him Hungry
Enzo pushed Norah behind him.
The bedroom door opened another inch.
Then a gray cat slipped through.
Norah nearly collapsed.
“That isn't mine.”
Enzo stared at the cat.
“Window.”
They entered the bedroom.
The fire-escape window stood open.
Whoever had searched the apartment had escaped seconds before they arrived.
Vincent came twenty minutes later.
Norah had not asked him to.
Enzo had.
Vincent entered wearing the same black shirt, a dark coat thrown over it.
He saw the bowl.
Then the photograph.
His face became unreadable.
“They're watching her,” Daniel said behind him.
He had arrived with Vincent.
Norah folded her arms.
“I gathered that.”
Vincent examined the message.
COOK FOR HIM AGAIN, AND YOUR BROTHER DISAPPEARS FOR GOOD.
He looked at the soup.
“This isn't about killing me.”
Daniel nodded.
“They want you weak.”
“Why?”
“Control.”
Vincent understood immediately.
A dead leader created chaos.
A weakened leader could be manipulated.
His illness had created exactly what Thomas Vale needed.
Vincent had delegated more decisions.
Signed documents without reviewing every detail.
Allowed Vale greater control over legitimate companies.
Someone had failed to kill Vincent and discovered that keeping him alive but impaired was even more useful.
Vincent looked at Norah.
“Pack a bag.”
“No.”
“You can't stay here.”
“I agree.”
“Good.”
“I'll stay with a friend.”
“No.”
Norah stared.
“Do you know any words besides no?”
“When necessary.”
Daniel interrupted.
“The estate is safer.”
Norah laughed.
“Someone stole a ledger from inside it tonight.”
Nobody answered.
She had a point.
Vincent said, “Then you'll stay in the guest wing near my study.”
“That sounds worse.”
“For whom?”
“Potentially everyone.”
Despite everything, Daniel smiled.
Vincent did not.
But something softened in his eyes.
Norah packed enough clothing for three days.
At the estate, she refused the enormous guest suite offered to her and chose a smaller room near the staff quarters.
“You're impossible,” Vincent said.
“It's a bedroom, not a diplomatic negotiation.”
He looked at her.
“You're no longer working tonight.”
“I figured that out when somebody broke into my apartment.”
“Tomorrow either.”
“I need wages.”
“You're being threatened because of me.”
“I was being threatened before I met you.”
That silenced him.
Vincent left.
At seven the next morning, he woke to a smell.
Garlic.
He sat upright.
For one disorienting moment, he thought he was a child again in his grandmother's apartment.
Then he remembered Norah.
He went downstairs.
She stood at the kitchen stove.
Vincent stopped.
“You received a threat specifically telling you not to cook for me.”
Norah stirred the saucepan.
“I'm making breakfast.”
“For yourself?”
She looked at him.
“Technically.”
He almost smiled.
She poured broth into two bowls.
Vincent stared.
“You're either very brave or very stupid.”
“My mother said those qualities were cousins.”
Norah placed one bowl before herself.
She tasted it first.
Then pushed the second toward him.
Vincent understood what she was doing.
Proving it was safe.
His expression darkened.
“Don't.”
“What?”
“Don't taste my food for me.”
“I was eating.”
“You tasted mine first.”
Norah put down the spoon.
“I wasn't trying to offend you.”
“You didn't.”
“Then what's wrong?”
Vincent looked at the bowl.
“Someone did that once.”
Norah waited.
“A food tester?”
“My grandmother.”
His voice became quieter.
“After the poisoning, when I came home from the hospital, she was already sick herself. She still insisted on tasting everything before I ate.”
Norah understood.
“It made you feel guilty.”
“Yes.”
“She was trying to make you feel safe.”
“I know.”
“Then don't turn what she did out of love into something ugly.”
Vincent looked at Norah.
Nobody spoke to him like this.
Nobody except his grandmother.
He sat.
Picked up the spoon.
Tasted the broth.
His stomach accepted it.
Again.
Norah began eating her own bowl.
They sat silently.
It was perhaps the most ordinary breakfast Vincent had experienced in years.
And therefore one of the strangest.
Enzo entered.
He stopped.
Vincent and Norah looked at him.
Enzo slowly backed toward the door.
“I'll return later.”
“Enzo.”
He stopped.
Vincent pointed toward the table.
“Sit.”
Norah poured him a bowl.
Daniel arrived next.
For ten minutes, four exhausted people sat around a kitchen table eating peasant broth.
Then Vincent's phone rang.
Thomas Vale.
Vincent answered.
“Thomas.”
“Vincent. I've been trying to reach you.”
“No, you haven't.”
Pause.
“I heard there was an incident at the estate.”
“Where are you?”
“My house.”
Vincent looked at Enzo.
Enzo was already sending someone.
“We need to talk.”
“Of course.”
“Come here.”
Another pause.
“I'll be there in an hour.”
The call ended.
Daniel whispered, “He's lying.”
Vincent nodded.
Thirty minutes later, Enzo received confirmation.
Vale's house was empty.
His car remained in the garage.
His passport was gone.
Vincent stood.
“He's running.”
Norah looked toward the hallway.
“Or he wants you to think he is.”
Vincent turned.
“Why?”
“Because if he wanted to disappear, why call you?”
Daniel stared at his sister.
Vincent considered it.
A distraction.
From what?
His eyes moved toward the kitchen.
The pantry.
The missing ledger.
“Search Vale's office.”
They did.
His office occupied the east side of the mansion's administrative wing.
Nothing obvious had been left behind.
Norah stood near the desk.
She noticed scratches on the floor.
“Vincent.”
He looked.
The bookcase had been moved repeatedly.
Enzo and Daniel pulled it aside.
Behind it was a small wall safe.
Vincent stared.
“That isn't mine.”
Enzo examined it.
“Neither is it part of the original construction.”
Daniel smiled grimly.
“Vale built himself a hiding place inside your house.”
Vincent called a security specialist.
Twenty minutes later, the safe opened.
Inside were financial records.
Cash.
Several passports.
And a small black notebook.
Daniel grabbed it.
“The ledger?”
He opened it.
“No.”
Vincent took the notebook.
Dates.
Names.
Amounts.
Then one recurring notation.
V.R. MEALS.
Beside each entry was a number.
Norah leaned closer.
“What are those?”
Daniel's expression changed.
“Payments.”
“For what?”
Vincent turned the page.
A list of household kitchen employees appeared.
Some had worked at the estate for years.
Others only weeks.
Beside several names were check marks.
Beside Norah's name was a circle.
And underneath it, written two days before she had ever cooked the broth:
BENNETT GIRL HAS ARRIVED.
Vincent looked at her.
Someone had known exactly who Norah was before she entered the house.
Then Enzo turned the final page.
One sentence had been written there.
IF SHE COOKS FOR HIM, MOVE TO PHASE TWO.
Norah whispered, “What's phase two?”
A phone began ringing.
Not Vincent's.
Not Enzo's.
Not Daniel's.
The sound came from inside the wall safe.
Vincent reached into the darkness.
He pulled out an old cellphone.
The screen displayed one incoming call.
UNKNOWN.
Vincent answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a distorted voice whispered:
“Vincent, you should never have eaten the second bowl.”
May you like
Behind them, the office door clicked shut.
And locked.
