Chapter 6: The Hand That Never Reached Nicholas Again
Claire’s wrist remained in my grip, but I did not squeeze harder. I held it where I had caught it, between Nicholas and the raised hand that had nearly reached him. The marble beneath us reflected the silver of her gown, the pale blue of my scrubs, and the dark shape of Nicholas’s overturned wheelchair. The plastic evidence bag hung from my other hand, tablets gathered at its bottom like small, silent witnesses.
Claire looked first at my hand, then at the bag.
Her expression changed by degrees. The anger stayed, but the polished socialite calm beneath it split open. Recognition moved through her face, followed by something sharper. She knew what the bag meant. She knew why I had stepped in. The medication tray lay behind me, still tipped on its side, one compartment rocking faintly before settling against the marble.
I released her wrist only when she stopped pulling.
She did not retreat. Her shoulder shifted toward Nicholas, a small movement that might have passed for balance if I had not been watching her so closely. I stepped with her. The evidence bag stayed visible at my side. My body remained between them.
The movement ended before her hand could rise again.
Nicholas’s breathing was shallow. His white shirt had pulled loose at the collar, and one cufflink was missing. I glanced toward the scattered piece on the floor, then back to him. The overturned wheelchair stood several feet away, one wheel still turned toward the foyer entrance. I could not leave him on the marble, but I would not erase the scene by dragging the chair across it without first knowing where each object had fallen.
I lowered myself beside Nicholas, keeping Claire in the edge of my vision.
His eyes found mine. Pain tightened his face, but he stayed conscious. I checked his breathing, then his head and shoulders, using the smallest movements I could manage. The marble pressed cold through my scrubs. Behind me, Claire shifted again.
I rose before she could close the distance.
The silver fabric whispered across the floor as she turned toward the entrance instead of Nicholas. For one second, she looked composed enough to summon an audience and make the foyer into a stage. Then her gaze returned to the bag. The composure failed again. Her mouth tightened. Her breathing became visible in the rise of her chest.
I held the bag higher.
The tablets remained sealed inside. The tray remained on the floor. Neither fact proved the whole story by itself, but together they fixed the immediate question in place: medication had been handled here, and Nicholas had ended up on the marble beside an overturned wheelchair. I kept looking from one to the other so I would not lose that connection if the room changed.
Claire pointed toward the bag without touching it.
No words came from her that I could use. The only spoken line still hanging in the foyer was hers: “You think you still control this house?” It had sounded like a challenge when she stood over Nicholas. Now it seemed directed at the room itself, at anyone who might later decide what they had seen.
I moved the wheelchair closer, but not over the scattered cufflink or the tray. I checked the wheels, locked them, and positioned the chair beside Nicholas. Then I waited, measuring each adjustment against his condition. The chair was upright again, but the overturned position remained recorded in my mind: several feet away, not beside him, with the medication tray between the objects and the wall.
Claire watched every motion.
Her eyes no longer held only fury. Fear showed through the anger—not fear of me, but of recognition. The bag had turned her attention from controlling Nicholas to controlling how the scene would be understood. I could not know who would believe me if she challenged my account. I knew only that the tablets were in my hand, the tray was still behind me, and Nicholas was not safe if I gave her another opening.
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At the foyer entrance, a latch moved.
Claire’s head turned toward the sound. I tightened my hold on the evidence bag and kept my position between her and Nicholas as the door began to open.
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