Chapter 6 - The Dead Mechanic Leaves a Message
Nathan Hale’s death was initially treated as suicide.
Alexander did not believe it.
Neither did the sheriff.
The note was too convenient.
Too clean.
It suggested Nathan sabotaged the car and regretted failing to kill Alexander.
But the timeline did not fit.
Nathan had continued working normally for seven months.
He had not contacted Alexander.
He had not confessed.
Then, the same day questions surfaced, he was dead.
Alexander looked at Dr. Hale.
“Did you know your brother was involved?”
Hale sat in the library under deputy supervision.
His arrogance was gone.
“I knew Thomas paid him.”
“For what?”
“To disable the vehicle.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try again.”
Hale closed his eyes.
“Nathan said he was supposed to damage the ignition module.”
“Not the brakes.”
“No.”
Alexander remembered the crash.
He had been descending a mountain road when the brake pedal went soft.
He hit the guardrail, rolled twice, and woke in a hospital unable to feel his legs.
If Nathan only targeted the ignition, someone else changed the plan.
Vanessa whispered, “Thomas?”
Thomas glared at her.
“I never ordered the brakes touched.”
Alexander studied him.
For the first time, he believed one thing his brother said.
Not because Thomas was trustworthy.
Because he looked genuinely afraid.
Alexander asked, “Who knew Nathan was working on the car?”
Thomas answered reluctantly.
“Me. Vanessa. Hale.”
“Anyone else?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Hale’s clinic administrator.”
“Name.”
“Rebecca Sloan.”
Emma went still.
Alexander noticed.
“What?”
She looked embarrassed.
“I know that name.”
“How?”
“My mother worked for a Rebecca Sloan.”
Everyone turned.
Emma explained.
Before becoming a maid, Emma had been a nursing student.
She left school when her mother became ill.
Her mother, Teresa Brooks, cleaned homes for wealthy clients.
One client was Rebecca Sloan.
“Did your mother ever mention Alexander?” the sheriff asked.
Emma nodded slowly.
“Once.”
Alexander stared.
“When?”
“After your accident.”
“What did she say?”
Emma struggled to remember.
“She said the woman she worked for had been burning papers in her fireplace.”
Thomas shifted.
Emma continued.
“My mom asked why. Rebecca said there had been ‘an accident’ and some files weren’t needed anymore.”
Alexander felt a chill.
“What files?”
“I don’t know.”
Emma’s mother died four months later from cancer.
Emma took the mansion job because the agency placement paid well.
She had never connected the names.
Until now.
The sheriff obtained a warrant for Rebecca Sloan’s home.
She was gone.
Her bedroom had been cleared.
A safe was empty.
But investigators found ash in the fireplace with partially preserved paper.
One fragment contained Alexander’s name.
Another contained the words:
baseline motor function.
A third:
compound protocol.
Alexander looked at Hale.
“What protocol?”
Hale said nothing.
The sheriff leaned closer.
“You’re already looking at medical fraud and evidence tampering. Decide whether you want murder conspiracy added before or after breakfast.”
Hale broke.
He admitted Rebecca ran an off-books research program through the clinic.
The program tested a neurological suppressant originally intended for severe spasticity.
It could reduce motor response.
Cause weakness.
Create apparent neurological decline.
Alexander felt sick.
“You gave me experimental drugs.”
Hale shook his head.
“After the accident.”
“That makes it better?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Thomas wanted time.”
Thomas shouted, “I never approved experimental medication.”
Hale turned on him.
“You paid the clinic.”
“For rehab.”
“You paid Rebecca.”
Thomas went silent.
Alexander saw it.
Another layer.
Thomas may not have known every detail.
But he financed the environment where it happened.
Hale continued.
“Rebecca said keeping Alexander weak for six months would protect the guardianship petition.”
Vanessa whispered, “Six months?”
Hale nodded.
“She said by then the company structure would be irreversible.”
Alexander looked at Thomas.
“What structure?”
Thomas did not answer.
The sheriff’s phone rang again.
Rebecca Sloan’s car had been found at a private airfield.
No Rebecca.
But airport security footage showed her boarding a charter jet.
She was not alone.
Alexander asked, “Who was with her?”
The sheriff turned the screen.
The image was grainy but clear enough.
An older woman in a cream coat walked beside Rebecca.
Alexander stared.
His chest tightened.
“Impossible.”
Emma looked at him.
“Who is she?”
Alexander could barely answer.
“My mother.”
Eleanor Vale.
May you like
The woman who had supposedly been living in Switzerland for the past eight months.
And the only person besides Alexander and Thomas who knew the full terms of their father’s trust.
