Chapter 3 - Cassandra Said She Had Seen the List BeforeFor three seconds, Cassandra didn't speak.
Then she exhaled.
"Because Dad had one."
Malcolm stared.
"You've seen it?"
"Years ago."
"Where?"
"In his study."
"What was it?"
"I don't know."
"You just told me you'd seen it."
"I saw names."
"Red lines?"
Cassandra looked away.
That answered.
Malcolm stepped closer.
"How many names were crossed out when you saw it?"
"I don't remember."
"Cassandra."
"I don't."
"What did Dad say?"
"Nothing."
"You asked?"
"Of course."
"And?"
"He told me it was an internal control list."
"Control of what?"
"He didn't say."
Malcolm folded his arms.
"Why didn't you mention this when I asked about his medication?"
"Because they're unrelated."
"How do you know?"
She became irritated.
"Because you're making this sound like some conspiracy."
"Our dead father's pills were in Cordelia's bag beside a list with his name crossed out."
"And?"
Malcolm almost laughed.
"And you knew the list existed."
"So did dozens of people."
"Name one."
Silence.
"That's what I thought."
Cassandra stared toward the house.
"Call Walter."
"No."
"Then you're being irresponsible."
"Cordelia explicitly warned me not to."
"Why would you trust her over a lawyer Dad trusted for twenty-five years?"
Malcolm thought of Harrison screaming.
Cordelia's fear.
The altered pill bottle.
"I don't know."
Cassandra shook her head.
"This is what Declan does."
Malcolm frowned.
"What?"
"He creates panic."
"Our brother isn't even here."
"Exactly."
She held up her phone.
"He somehow knew there was trouble. He sends me. Now he disappears."
Malcolm hadn't considered that.
"Why would he?"
"Ask him."
"I've been trying."
Cassandra opened her car.
"Don't destroy anything."
Malcolm almost smiled.
"I wasn't planning to."
"And don't show the list to company counsel."
He stopped.
"You just told me to call Walter."
"Personal counsel."
"Why the change?"
Cassandra's expression tightened.
"Because if Dad's list relates to corporate control, you don't know who is conflicted."
There.
For the first time, she sounded less like an adversary.
More like someone who was afraid of the same thing he was.
"How much do you know?"
"Not enough."
"Then stay."
She hesitated.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because if Declan is involved, I want to find him."
"Don't warn him."
Cassandra stared.
"He's our brother."
"So?"
She looked wounded.
Malcolm didn't care.
Not tonight.
"Call me before you confront him."
Cassandra nodded once.
Then drove away.
Malcolm stood outside until her taillights disappeared.
Only then did he take the list from his jacket.
He photographed both sides.
Sent the images to a newly retained attorney his college friend recommended, Julian Morse, a probate and corporate-litigation specialist with no known connection to the Hartwells.
Then Malcolm photographed the pill bottle.
He did not touch the tablets.
Police collected them.
By midnight, Harrison was asleep at Malcolm's close friend Ethan Bellamy's house.
Cordelia remained in the hospital.
Initial tests showed no stroke.
No head injury.
But a doctor told Malcolm something unexpected.
"Mrs. Price has a medication in her system that she says she did not take."
Malcolm's stomach tightened.
"What medication?"
The doctor used a clinical name Malcolm didn't recognize.
"What does it do?"
"Can cause significant drowsiness, confusion, impaired memory."
Malcolm stared.
"Could it explain what happened?"
"Potentially."
"How did it get into her?"
"We can't answer that."
"Could the pills on the floor be the same thing?"
"The police laboratory would need to identify those separately."
Malcolm thought of Cordelia gripping her forehead.
I don't remember.
She might have been telling the truth.
Someone could have tampered with something she consumed.
Or she could have mistakenly taken the wrong medication.
He refused to jump farther than evidence allowed.
When Cordelia became more alert around 1:30 a.m., Malcolm entered her room.
She looked embarrassed.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For frightening Harrison."
"Do you remember?"
"Parts."
"What parts?"
"He opened my bag."
"And?"
"I saw the bottle."
"Then?"
Cordelia closed her eyes.
"I was afraid he would touch the tablets."
"You grabbed him."
"I think so."
"He says you were trying to stop him."
Relief moved across her face.
"Good."
"Why?"
"Because those tablets were evidence."
"Of what?"
Cordelia looked toward the door.
Malcolm closed it.
Then sat.
"Start with the list."
Her expression changed.
"I promised your father."
"He's dead."
"That doesn't end a promise."
"It does when my son is involved."
Cordelia looked at him.
That hit.
Finally, she nodded.
"The red lines don't mean what Harrison thinks."
"What do they mean?"
"Your father made the list after he discovered someone had been using Hartwell family signatures without permission."
Malcolm stared.
"Forging them?"
"Sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
"Sometimes they used real signatures copied from other documents."
His pulse changed.
"Whose names?"
"The ones crossed in red."
Malcolm took out the photograph.
Frederick.
Samuel Price.
Theodore Hartwell.
Two retired executives.
One cousin.
Malcolm whispered:
"They were victims."
"Yes."
"Then why is Dad crossed out?"
Cordelia's eyes filled.
"Because someone used his signature too."
"For what?"
"A trust amendment."
Malcolm felt cold.
His father's estate.
The Hartwell Legacy Trust.
The structure that controlled thirty-one percent of Hartwell Biotech's voting shares.
After Frederick's death, the trust distributed authority between Malcolm, Cassandra, and Declan.
At least, that's what Walter Keene had explained.
"What amendment?"
Cordelia answered:
"The one that changed who controls the family company."
Malcolm stared.
"Who knows?"
"Your father did."
"Anyone else?"
"Samuel Price."
The dead accountant.
"Uncle Theodore?"
"Yes."
Dead too.
Malcolm looked again at the crossed names.
All three people who supposedly knew.
All three dead.
His voice dropped.
"How did they die?"
Cordelia stiffened.
"You know."
"I know what I was told."
Frederick fell down the west staircase after midnight.
Samuel died in a single-car accident during a storm.
Theodore suffered a heart attack at his vacation home.
Three unrelated tragedies.
Until now.
Cordelia saw the direction of his thoughts.
"No."
"What?"
"Do not assume someone murdered them."
Malcolm stared.
"You just gave me a list of dead witnesses."
"I gave you people whose signatures were compromised."
"Who also died."
"Some living names are crossed too."
Malcolm checked.
She was right.
Two retired executives were alive.
One cousin lived in Arizona.
That mattered.
The list wasn't a death list.
At least not literally.
"Then why did Dad tell you to keep his medicine?"
Cordelia's expression changed.
"Because a week before he fell, he told me the tablets in one bottle looked different."
Malcolm leaned closer.
"Did he take them?"
"I don't know."
"Did he have symptoms?"
"He became confused."
"Like you tonight?"
Cordelia looked at him.
"Yes."
Malcolm stopped breathing.
Then she whispered:
"That's why I kept them."
A knock came at the hospital-room door.
A nurse entered carrying Malcolm's phone.
He had left it at the desk while speaking with the doctor.
"Mr. Hartwell? Someone has called repeatedly."
Malcolm took it.
Nine missed calls.
All from Declan.
Then a text.
Do not trust Cordelia. Dad fired her the week before he died.
Malcolm looked at the woman in the hospital bed.
Cordelia saw the screen.
Her face changed.
"That's not true."
Malcolm said nothing.
Cordelia sat upright.
"Mr. Hartwell, your father did not fire me."
"Then why would Declan say he did?"
May you like
She looked terrified.
"Because your brother knows exactly why Frederick kept me in that house."
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