Chapter 3 - Four People in a Hospital Room
By midnight, Jack knew three things.
Olivia liked purple socks.
She hated being called brave when she had felt terrified.
And Claire Whitmore could run a company worth billions while remaining unable to open a packet of hospital crackers with shaking hands.
He opened it for her and placed the crackers on a napkin.
“Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
She looked up.
Under other circumstances, she might have objected to his tone.
Tonight, she ate one.
Across the room, Olivia slept beneath a thin blanket, a monitor marking time beside her.
Her breathing had settled.
The sight still did not seem to reassure Claire for more than a few seconds.
Every small sound pulled her attention back to the bed.
A detective named Luis Ortega had taken an initial statement.
He did not press Olivia for an account while she was exhausted and frightened.
Rosa’s injuries were being treated downstairs.
She remembered admitting a man wearing a property-service badge. He said Claire had authorized an urgent collection.
When Rosa questioned him, he pushed past her.
Olivia had been at the kitchen table.
A minute later, Rosa heard the reinforced door close.
Then the man struck her when she tried to call for help.
Claire listened without moving.
Only when Ortega left did she speak.
“She was supposed to be at a sleepover.”
Jack looked at her.
“Olivia?”
“Her friend got sick. We canceled this afternoon.”
“Who knew?”
“Rosa. Me. My assistant, maybe.”
She stared at her daughter.
“Whoever came might not have expected her.”
“That’s something the detective will examine.”
Claire rubbed her forehead.
“The folder was in my home office. It contains original due-diligence notes for an acquisition.”
“Important?”
“Important enough that someone wanted it.”
Jack let the silence sit.
Claire glanced at him.
“You’re not going to ask which acquisition?”
“No.”
“Most people would.”
“I’m not most people.”
“That sounds rehearsed.”
“Emma usually says it when I embarrass her.”
Despite everything, Claire smiled.
It vanished quickly.
“Your daughter. You should go.”
“Rachel’s with her.”
“She’ll wake up and wonder where you are.”
“I called before bedtime.”
Claire looked at his navy shirt, now creased and marked with dust from the hallway.
“You didn’t sign up for this.”
“No.”
“You can leave.”
“I know.”
For a moment, she seemed unable to understand an offer that remained even after she removed the obligation.
At six thirty, Rachel arrived with Emma.
Jack met them outside the pediatric unit.
Emma came directly into his arms.
He held her longer than usual.
She noticed.
“Dad, I can still breathe.”
“Good. Important feature.”
She hugged him back anyway.
Rachel handed him coffee and a clean sweatshirt.
Then her expression changed.
“How bad?”
“Bad. Better now.”
“That kind of bad.”
“Yes.”
Emma carried a small paper bag.
“What’s that?”
“Emergency supplies.”
Inside were colored pencils, a puzzle book, and a stuffed rabbit missing one plastic eye.
“Not Captain Bun,” Jack said.
“He’s experienced.”
Rachel looked away, smiling.
Jack asked Claire before bringing Emma inside.
Claire checked with the nurse, then looked toward Olivia, who had woken and was staring at the wall.
“Yes,” she said softly. “If Emma wants to.”
The girls regarded each other with the solemn suspicion of children introduced by adults.
Emma spoke first.
“My dad says hospitals have bad pancakes.”
Olivia blinked.
“They do.”
“I brought pencils.”
“I have pencils.”
“Mine have glitter.”
A pause.
Then Olivia shifted on the bed.
“Okay.”
Within ten minutes, they were designing a house for Captain Bun.
It required a swimming pool, a hidden library, and a bathroom large enough for a horse.
Jack watched Claire watching them.
Something in her shoulders lowered.
Her phone rang.
She checked the screen.
“Graham.”
“Work?”
“Chief financial officer. He’s been with the company since my father.”
She stepped into the hall.
Jack did not intend to listen.
But hospital corridors offered little privacy, and Graham’s voice carried through her phone.
“I heard. God, Claire. Is she all right?”
“She’s improving.”
“Thank goodness. Listen, we can handle everything. You just need to sign the preliminary approval so the Northlake transaction stays alive.”
Claire stopped walking.
“My daughter was hospitalized.”
“I understand. That’s why I’m trying to take things off your plate.”
“The documents can wait.”
“The lenders may not.”
Jack watched her face change.
The frightened mother did not disappear.
The executive returned beside her.
“I said they can wait.”
She ended the call.
For several seconds, she stood motionless.
Then she looked through the window at Olivia and Emma arguing over whether the rabbit needed an elevator.
“The red folder concerns Northlake,” she said.
May you like
Jack set down his coffee.
“Then tell Detective Ortega about that call.”
