PART 2: The Voice Behind Me Knew More Than She Should

Now I wasn’t certain.

Victoria Vescari lifted her chin.

A strand of dark hair had come loose near her temple, but otherwise she looked as composed as she had before her brother went into the lake.

“Julian, you need to let Dr.

Patel examine you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You were underwater.”

“I’m aware.”

The physician gave him a displeased look.

“You swallowed water.

We should take you inside and monitor your breathing.”

Julian’s eyes never left the guests.

“Everybody inside.”

A murmur passed through the terrace.

“Julian—” Victoria began.

“Everyone,” he repeated.

His tone wasn’t loud.

It didn’t need to be.

People began moving at once, though not quickly.

Politicians adjusted their jackets.

Businessmen spoke into phones.

Relatives exchanged glances.

The quartet stopped playing altogether.

The bodyguards finally stepped forward, forming a loose barrier around him.

One of them, a broad-shouldered man named Rafael, looked at me with an expression that was almost apologetic.

“Miss Bell, you should change before you catch cold.”

I looked down at myself.

My shoes were gone.

My dress was streaked with mud and lake weeds.

The sleeve had torn near my shoulder, and my hair was plastered across my face.

“I’m fine,” I said.

Julian glanced at me then.

“You’re shivering.”

“So are you.”

For half a second, something almost like amusement crossed his face.

Then it disappeared.

“Stay,” he said.

Victoria’s gaze moved between us.

“Julian, perhaps this isn’t the time.”

“It’s exactly the time.”

Dr.

Patel helped him sit higher in the chair.

Julian winced when his weight shifted, but he didn’t make a sound.

His hands rested on the armrests, fingers relaxed, though I noticed how tightly his thumb pressed into the black leather.

He was in pain.

He simply refused to give it a name.

I followed him inside.

The mansion had been built for people who wanted their wealth to look effortless.

Tall windows opened toward the lake.

Cream-colored walls reflected the afternoon light.

Paintings hung in quiet rows, their frames worth more than most houses.

Only minutes earlier, the rooms had been full of conversation.

Now every voice seemed to stop when Julian passed.

He was taken to a library at the end of the hall.

The physician examined him while Victoria closed the doors behind us.

The room smelled of cedar and old paper.

A fire had been laid but not lit, and a long table near the window held documents, crystal glasses, and a silver tray of untouched food.

I remained near the door.

Julian noticed.

“Sit down.”

“I’ll stand.”

“You’ve been underwater in a dress.”

“I’m aware.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“You’re very fond of that phrase.”

“I’m beginning to understand why you use it.”

Dr.

Patel wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and handed me a towel.

“You both need dry clothes.

Julian, I want to take you to the hospital.”

“No.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion.”

“I said no.”

“Your lungs may be irritated.

Delayed complications—”

“I know what they are.”

The doctor looked at me, perhaps hoping I could persuade him.

I had met Julian Vescari eleven days earlier.

In that time, I had learned that he disliked being touched without warning, hated sweet coffee, remembered every appointment, and expected his staff to arrive five minutes early.

I knew almost nothing about his medical history.

Still, I said, “You should go.”

His gaze shifted toward me.

“Why?”

“Because Dr.

Patel is asking you to.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll spend the rest of the day wondering whether you made a mistake.”

That seemed to catch him off guard.

Victoria made a small sound of disbelief.

“You’ve worked here eleven days.”

“I know.”

“And you believe you understand my brother?”

“No.

I believe he dislikes wondering whether he made a mistake.”

Dr.

Patel covered a smile with his hand.

Julian looked at him.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Immensely.”

For the first time since he had been pulled from the lake, Julian’s shoulders loosened.

“Fine,” he said.

“A hospital.

But not the one on Sheridan.”

“I wasn’t planning to take you there,” Dr.

Patel replied.

“Too many reporters.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I know what happened.”

The doctor’s expression hardened.

“You can investigate after I’m satisfied you’re stable.”

Julian looked toward the closed doors.

“Then begin.”

Dr.

Patel shook his head and left to arrange transportation.

Victoria waited until the door shut.

“You shouldn’t have jumped.”

The words were softer than I expected.

I dried my face with the towel.

“That’s what you said.”

Her expression changed.

“What?”

“Behind me.

You said, ‘Don’t.’”

For the first time, her composure slipped.

Only slightly.

A pause.

A faint tightening around her eyes.

“I said don’t move.”

“You said don’t.”

“You were standing at the edge.

I didn’t want you to fall too.”

“You were telling me not to rescue him?”

Victoria turned toward the window.

Outside, staff members were clearing chairs from the terrace.

The lake had gone flat again, hiding the place where Julian had disappeared beneath it.

“I was telling you not to touch the chair,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because it was still attached to him.”

“That didn’t stop me.”

“I know.”

Her reflection stared back at us from the glass.

Cream silk.

Pearls.

Perfect posture.

But her hands were clasped so tightly that the knuckles had gone white.

“What did you know?”

I asked.

Victoria’s eyes met mine in the window.

“I knew the chair wasn’t right.”

Julian turned his head.

“Victoria.”

She faced him.

“You asked who told her not to touch you.

I answered.”

“You knew something was wrong before the fall?”

“I knew the left wheel had been sticking.”

“You didn’t mention that.”

“You were speaking to Senator Hall.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“No,” she said.

“It isn’t.”

The silence that followed had the weight of a family argument interrupted before it reached its worst moment.

I looked from one sibling to the other.

“You knew the wheel was sticking?”

“Twice,” Victoria said.

“It caught on the rug in the west corridor this morning.

I told Rafael.”

Rafael, standing outside the library doors, shifted his attention toward us.

Julian’s voice cooled.

“You told Rafael?”

“Yes.”

“And what did he say?”

“That maintenance had checked it.”

Rafael entered the room.

“I said I would have someone look at it after the gathering.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed.

“After?”

“It was moving normally.”

“Was it?”

Rafael didn’t answer.

I remembered the chair on the terrace.

The sudden stop of the right wheel.

The continued movement of the left.

The way Julian had tipped, not rolled.

“What happens when one wheel sticks?”

I asked.

Rafael looked at me.

“The chair turns.”

“And if the other wheel keeps moving?”

“It can pull sideways.”

“Enough to tip?”

“If the ground slopes.”

The terrace sloped gently toward the lake.

A detail I had noticed only after reaching the water.

Julian leaned back, his face unreadable.

“Bring me the chair.”

“Julian,” Dr.

Patel called from the hallway, “we’re leaving in five minutes.”

“Bring me the chair first.”

Rafael hesitated.

“It’s being examined.”

“By whom?”

“Maintenance.”

“Bring it here.”

After he left, Victoria moved toward the drinks cabinet and poured herself water.

Her hand shook once before she steadied the glass.

“You should change,” she said to me.

“There are clothes upstairs.”

“I’ll go home.”

Julian’s gaze returned to me.

“You live nearby?”

“Twenty-five minutes away.”

“Go change.

Come back.”

I almost laughed.

“You just fell into a lake.”

“And you just saved my life.”

“I wasn’t hired as a rescue service.”

“No.

You were hired as my secretary.”

“Then perhaps you should assign this to someone else.”

“Perhaps.”

His answer was so calm that it irritated me.

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Yes, I do.”

I looked at him.

He continued, “Nora Bell.

Twenty-eight.

Former lifeguard at Lakeview Municipal Pool.

Three years.

Left after your mother became ill.

You type one hundred and two words per minute, dislike working for men who dictate emails, and applied for this position because your previous employer relocated to Denver.”

My mouth went dry.

“That information was in my application.”

“Most people don’t read applications.”

“You did.”

“I hired you.”

Victoria looked sharply at him.

I noticed.

“You hired me?”

Julian’s expression didn’t change.

“I approved your appointment.”

“Your chief of staff interviewed me.”

“Marianne interviews everyone.”

“But you chose me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

His eyes remained on mine.

“Because you were qualified.”

“That’s not the whole answer.”

“No,” he said.

“It isn’t.”

Before I could ask again, Rafael returned with the wheelchair.

It looked ordinary.

Black frame.

Wide wheels.

Padded seat.

A small control panel mounted beside the right armrest.

But the left wheel had been removed from its housing.

A metal pin rested on the seat.

Rafael placed the chair near the table.

“Maintenance found this,” he said.

Julian’s expression became still.

“What is it?”

“Axle pin,” Rafael replied.

“It shouldn’t have come loose.”

“Could it have caused the wheel to lock?”

“Possibly.”

“Possibly?”

“It depends how far it had shifted.”

Julian looked at me.

“You saw the wheel stop.”

“Yes.”

“Did you see anyone near the chair?”

The terrace returned to my mind in fragments: sunlight on glass, the quartet, Victoria beside the roses, Rafael at the far steps, a man in a navy jacket standing behind Julian.

And the voice.

Don’t.

“I saw people,” I said.

“That wasn’t my question.”

“I don’t know.”

“Try.”

I closed my eyes.

The terrace had been crowded, but my attention had gone to Julian.

I remembered him speaking to Senator Hall.

I remembered a waiter passing behind him.

I remembered one of the security men turning toward the boathouse.

And I remembered a hand.

Not touching the chair.

Reaching beneath the backrest.

“I saw someone near it,” I said.

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Man or woman?”

“Man.”

“Description?”

“Dark jacket.

Gray shirt.

Maybe fifty.”

Rafael looked at Victoria.

She set down her glass.

“That describes half the guests.”

“Did he have a watch?”

Julian asked.

I blinked.

“What?”

“A watch.”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he wear one?”

I searched the memory.

The man had been behind Julian, partly blocked by a tall vase of white flowers.

I had noticed a glint near his wrist.

“Yes,” I said.

“A silver watch.”

Rafael exchanged another look with Victoria.

Julian saw it.

“Who?”

“Thomas Keane,” Victoria said.

Julian’s mouth tightened.

“Where is he?”

“Probably in the dining room.”

“Find him.”

Rafael left.

Victoria moved closer to the table.

“Thomas has handled the family’s legal affairs for fifteen years.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I said.

“No,” Julian answered.

“It means he knows exactly how the chair works.”

The library grew quiet.

I looked at the damaged wheel.

“Could he have done this?”

“Anyone who had access could have.”

“Who has access?”

“Maintenance.

Rafael.

Me.

Victoria.”

“And Thomas?”

“He has access to the house,” Victoria said.

“Not the equipment.”

Julian’s eyes shifted toward her.

“You sound certain.”

“I am certain.”

“How?”

“Because I keep the equipment room locked.”

“Who has the key?”

Victoria didn’t respond.

Julian’s voice sharpened.

“Who has the key?”

“I do.”

“And?”

“Marianne has a copy.

Rafael has one.

Maintenance has a temporary key when they need it.”

“Thomas?”

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

Julian noticed that too.

“Why did you hesitate?”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

Victoria’s eyes flashed.

“You’ve been underwater, Julian.

You’re tired and angry.

That doesn’t make every pause a confession.”

He looked away.

I felt suddenly like an intruder in a private conversation, despite the fact that someone had nearly allowed him to drown in front of me.

Dr.

Patel returned with two paramedics.

“We’re leaving now,” he said.

Julian nodded but kept his gaze on the chair.

As the paramedics prepared to move him, I stepped toward the damaged wheel.

Something small lay beneath the table.

At first I thought it was a piece of gravel from the terrace.

Then I saw the narrow strip of blue plastic and the tiny brass clasp attached to it.

I bent down and picked it up.

Victoria went pale.

“What is that?”

I asked.

No one answered.

Julian held out his hand.

I placed the object in his palm.

He studied it for several seconds.

“It’s a key tag,” he said.

“To what?”

Victoria answered this time.

“The equipment room.”

My fingers tightened around the towel.

“But you said the key was with you.”

“It was.”

“Was?”

Victoria looked toward the door.

“I had it this morning.”

Julian’s eyes lifted to hers.

“When did you notice it missing?”

“After lunch.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I thought I had misplaced it.”

“You misplaced the key to the room containing my wheelchair.”

“I was going to find it.”

“Before or after I drowned?”

The words were quiet.

Victoria flinched as though he had struck the table between them.

“I didn’t know this would happen.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

“But you meant it.”

He looked away.

The paramedics positioned themselves beside his chair.

One of them asked me to step back.

I did, though my attention remained on Victoria.

The blue tag was marked with a handwritten number: 4.

I had seen that number before.

Not on the equipment room.

On my office desk.

Eleven days earlier, when I had arrived for my first morning of work, a brass key had been waiting beside my computer.

Marianne had told me it opened the filing cabinet beneath the desk.

I had never tried it.

I had assumed the number stamped into its blue tag was an inventory code.

Now I realized it matched the tag in Julian’s hand.

The equipment room key had not been lost.

It had been given to me.

“Wait,” I said.

Julian looked at me.

I reached into the pocket of my wet dress, though I knew the key wasn’t there.

Then I remembered leaving it in the top drawer of my desk because I had planned to ask Marianne about it.

“I have something upstairs.”

“What?”

“A key.”

Victoria’s expression changed.

“What key?”

“The one on my desk.”

Julian watched her carefully.

“Did you give it to Nora?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then who did?”

Victoria didn’t answer.

Neither did I.

From the hallway came the sound of hurried footsteps, followed by Rafael’s voice.

“Julian, Thomas isn’t in the dining room.”

Julian’s hand closed around the blue key tag.

“Search the house,” he said.

But Victoria was looking at me now, not at the door.

There was fear in her face for the first time.

Not fear of what had happened to her brother.

Fear of what I might find in my office.

I went upstairs alone.

My desk stood exactly as I had left it, beside the tall window overlooking the lake.

The room was warm, quiet, and orderly.

A typed schedule sat beneath my blotter.

Three unopened messages waited in the inbox.

My handbag rested on the chair.

I opened the top drawer.

The brass key was still there.

So was a folded piece of paper I had never seen before.

My name was written on the outside in neat black ink.

Nora Bell.

I unfolded it.

Inside was a single sentence.

You were not hired to protect Julian.

You were hired to notice who would let him die.