Chapter 3 - The Voice Behind the Wall
Marcus pulled Grace backward.
The cabinet shifted.
A narrow opening appeared behind it.
Dominic moved in front of Grace despite his wounds.
“Stay behind me.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I can stand long enough.”
A figure emerged.
An elderly man.
He raised empty hands.
“Don’t shoot.”
Dominic froze.
“Father Thomas?”
The priest looked at Grace.
“You have Catherine’s eyes.”
Grace felt the room tilt.
“You knew my mother?”
“I gave her that key.”
Father Thomas explained that Michael Walker had trusted him.
For decades, the priest had guarded documents Michael hid before his death.
Catherine had refused to retrieve them.
“She wanted you children outside this world.”
“Then why leave the letter?” Grace asked.
“Because she knew someday the world might come looking for you.”
The ledger contained names.
Police.
Judges.
Dock officials.
And Vale associates.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Elias Vale.
Dominic’s older half brother.
Grace looked at him.
“You have a brother?”
“Had.”
“What does that mean?”
“He died seventeen years ago.”
Father Thomas shook his head.
“No, Dominic.”
Silence.
“He disappeared.”
Dominic’s expression became stone.
“You saw the body?”
“No.”
“Then don’t tell me he’s dead.”
Father Thomas pointed at the ledger.
“Michael believed Elias was working with Victor.”
Dominic stared at the page.
Memories seemed to move behind his eyes.
Grace saw pain there.
Not criminal calculation.
Family pain.
The kind she understood.
They returned to the hospital before dawn.
Dominic’s wound had reopened.
Grace was furious.
“You could have killed yourself.”
“But I didn’t.”
“That sentence is becoming annoying.”
She cleaned the wound.
He watched her.
“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
“I am.”
That surprised him.
Grace continued.
“Courage isn’t the absence of fear.”
“What is it?”
“Doing your job while your hands are shaking.”
Dominic looked at her hands.
They were steady.
“You’re not shaking.”
“I’ve had practice.”
Their eyes met.
Something softened.
Then Dominic said, “When I woke up after surgery, I remembered you.”
“Most patients remember their nurses.”
“I remembered you from before.”
Grace stopped.
“The photographs?”
“No.”
He touched the crucifix.
“Your father used to talk about you.”
She swallowed.
“He said you wanted to become a doctor.”
“Nurse.”
“He said you would argue with anyone who tried to stop you.”
Grace smiled despite herself.
“That sounds like him?”
“I thought you barely remembered him.”
“I remember enough.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“What?”
“My father used to bring me peppermint candy.”
Dominic reached into his bedside drawer.
He placed one wrapped peppermint on the table.
Grace stared at it.
“I keep them because of him.”
The distance between them changed.
Michael Walker was no longer only a dead father.
He was a bridge.
Grace sat beside Dominic.
“Tell me about him.”
So Dominic did.
He told her Michael hated expensive whiskey and loved terrible baseball jokes.
He told her Michael once punched a corrupt foreman for cheating immigrant workers.
He told her Michael had saved Dominic from an ambush by driving through a warehouse door.
Grace laughed.
Then cried.
Dominic did not touch her until she reached for his hand first.
His fingers closed around hers.
Gently.
Nothing about Dominic Vale was supposed to be gentle.
That made it dangerous.
The next morning, Marcus entered carrying security footage.
A man had visited the hospital during Dominic’s surgery.
His face was partially hidden.
But Dominic recognized the way he walked.
“Elias.”
Grace stared.
“You’re sure?”
“I grew up following him.”
Marcus looked grim.
“If Elias is alive, he may be the one who ordered the shooting.”
Dominic’s expression darkened.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because if Elias wanted me dead, he wouldn’t miss.”
That night, Grace refused to leave Dominic alone.
She claimed it was because his condition required monitoring.
Marcus said nothing.
His expression said everything.
Around two in the morning, Dominic woke.
Grace was sleeping in the chair beside him.
He watched her for several seconds.
“Grace.”
She opened her eyes.
“What?”
“You should go home.”
“Apparently people shoot at me there.”
A small smile.
Then silence.
“Why did you say I belonged where you could protect me?” she asked.
Dominic looked away.
“I was dying.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“When a man thinks he has seconds left, he doesn’t waste them lying.”
Grace’s heartbeat changed.
“You don’t own me.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t ever speak like you do.”
Dominic met her eyes.
“Fair.”
She expected resistance.
Instead she received respect.
That was worse.
Because Grace could defend herself against arrogance.
She was less prepared for a dangerous man who listened.
A noise came from the hallway.
Dominic’s expression sharpened.
“Behind me.”
“Not this again.”
The lights went out.
Emergency lighting turned the room red.
Grace heard footsteps.
Marcus shouted somewhere outside.
Then glass shattered.
Dominic pulled Grace down as a bullet crossed the room.
A man entered through the side door.
Dominic grabbed the weapon hidden beneath his mattress.
Grace stared.
“You had a gun under a hospital mattress?”
“Later.”
The attacker fled.
Marcus pursued him.
Seconds later, the lights returned.
On Dominic’s pillow lay a photograph that had not been there before.
Grace picked it up.
It showed Michael Walker.
Alive.
The timestamp was dated eight years after his supposed death.
Grace’s knees weakened.
On the back were five words.
DOMINIC KNOWS WHERE HE WENT.
Grace turned toward him.
His face had gone white.
“You told me my father was murdered.”
Dominic stared at the photograph.
“I believed he was.”
“Believed?”
Dominic said nothing.
Grace stepped closer.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He looked at her.
Before he could answer, the hospital room phone rang.
Dominic picked it up.
A man’s voice came through loudly enough for Grace to hear.
“Hello, little brother.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
Grace whispered, “Elias?”
The voice laughed.
Then said, “Ask Grace why her father is standing beside me.”
A video message appeared on Grace’s phone.
She opened it.
A gray-haired man slowly turned toward the camera.
May you like
Grace recognized his eyes immediately.
Her father looked straight into the lens and said her name...
