Chapter 5 - THE PILLSThe laboratory called the next afternoon.
Daniel Cross put the phone on speaker.
“One of the tablets in Mr. Holloway’s evening compartment is not part of the medication list you provided.”
Everett stared at the weekly organizer.
“What is it?”
“A prescription sedative.”
Lorraine sat down.
Preston swore quietly.
Celia looked sick.
The lab representative continued.
“The dosage is not inherently dangerous in a healthy adult when prescribed appropriately. But in someone unfamiliar with it, especially combined with alcohol, it can cause significant drowsiness, slowed reaction time, memory impairment, and confusion.”
Champagne.
Party.
Doctor.
Everett’s stomach tightened.
“How many?”
“Three tablets across different evening compartments.”
Cross asked:
“Could taking one make someone look cognitively impaired?”
“Yes.”
Nobody spoke.
Everett looked at Lorraine.
“You filled this.”
She stood.
“I did not put those in there.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“You filled it Sunday.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“I left it in the bathroom cabinet.”
Preston asked:
“Was the cabinet locked?”
“No.”
Everett almost laughed.
Nothing in his home had ever needed locking.
That was the tragedy.
He had built a house where security systems covered entrances, artwork was insured, safes were hidden behind walls—
yet he trusted the people inside.
Celia spoke.
“I was here Tuesday.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Did you touch the pills?”
“No.”
“Why mention it?”
“Because I saw Margaret—”
She stopped.
Lorraine’s eyes narrowed.
“You saw me what?”
Celia corrected herself.
“I saw Lorraine in the bathroom.”
Lorraine stared.
“I live here.”
“You were holding Everett’s organizer.”
“When?”
“Tuesday afternoon.”
Lorraine’s face changed.
“I was checking whether he needed refills.”
Everett asked:
“Did you?”
“No.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Lorraine looked at him.
“No. I did not add anything.”
Celia looked unconvinced.
Preston suddenly laughed bitterly.
“This is insane.”
Everett turned.
“Is it?”
“We’re accusing Mom of drugging you because Celia saw her with a pill box.”
“No.”
Everett’s voice hardened.
“We’re asking why someone put sedatives in medication I take before bed while two doctors were secretly scheduled to evaluate whether I’m mentally competent.”
Preston had no answer.
Cross requested pharmacy records.
The sedative required a prescription.
Everett had none.
Lorraine had been prescribed the same medication eleven months earlier after a period of insomnia.
She had filled thirty tablets.
Everett stared at the record.
Lorraine’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“What?”
“I stopped taking them.”
“Where are the rest?”
“I threw them out.”
“When?”
“Months ago.”
Celia looked toward Preston.
That quick glance again.
Everett noticed.
“What?”
Celia shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“No. Every time something points toward someone, you look at Preston.”
Her face tightened.
Preston turned.
“Tell him.”
Celia looked at her husband.
“You had some.”
Preston froze.
Lorraine whispered:
“What?”
Celia continued.
“Three months ago, you couldn’t sleep before the Newark deal closed.”
Preston’s face went pale.
“You gave me two of Mom’s pills.”
Lorraine stared.
“How did you get them?”
Preston rubbed his face.
“She gave me the bottle.”
Lorraine immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I gave you two tablets.”
“You gave me the bottle and said keep it in case.”
Everett looked between them.
Now both had access.
Celia had seen both.
And someone was lying.
Cross asked Preston:
“Where is the bottle?”
“I don’t know.”
“Your house?”
“Maybe.”
“Find it.”
Preston called his assistant.
Then drove home accompanied by one of Cross’s investigators.
Two hours later he returned.
Bottle found.
Seven tablets remained.
Pharmacy record showed thirty dispensed.
Lorraine said she used approximately fourteen before giving Preston two.
That should leave fourteen.
Seven were missing beyond that rough count.
Not proof.
Enough.
Then Cross found something else.
On Preston’s laptop, Holloway Advisory Holdings had paid Mason, Kline & Roth $18,500.
Preston admitted approving the payment.
Everett stared.
“You told me you only asked a question.”
“I did.”
“Eighteen thousand dollars worth?”
“They drafted options.”
“For taking control from me.”
“For protecting the company if you became incapacitated.”
“I am not incapacitated.”
“I know that now.”
Everett stepped closer.
“Now?”
Preston swallowed.
“Dad, you have been different.”
The room changed.
Everett stopped.
“How?”
“You forget things.”
“Everyone forgets things.”
“You repeated the same story three times at dinner last month.”
Everett remembered.
He had been exhausted after a board meeting.
Preston continued.
“You accused your CFO of moving a document that was in your own briefcase.”
True.
“And you fell twice.”
“Knee surgery.”
“You got lost driving home.”
Everett’s expression changed.
Once.
He had taken the wrong exit.
Only Preston knew.
And Lorraine.
Preston said:
“I was worried.”
Everett stared.
“Were you worried before or after somebody started putting sedatives in my pills?”
Preston went silent.
That question changed everything.
May you like
What if Everett’s “decline” was not the reason for the plan?
What if it was part of the plan?
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