Chapter 7 - The Crash Wasn't an Accident
Dominic had replayed the crash a thousand times.
Rain on Lower Wacker.
A delivery truck changing lanes.
His driver swearing.
Then the violent pull to the left.
The SUV striking concrete.
Metal folding.
Glass exploding.
For eleven weeks, everyone had blamed wet pavement and a failed tire.
Now Vincent placed the photograph on the cellar table.
"The bolts?"
Dominic pointed to the circled wheel hub. "Get the vehicle report. The original one, not the insurance summary."
Vincent made a call.
Clare had followed them downstairs after settling Ellie with a guard she trusted. She stood near the doorway, arms folded tightly.
"Why would Angela have this?"
"Because she was looking at more than therapy records," Dominic said.
Mercer arrived carrying his laptop.
"I found the missing lab entries. They weren't deleted. They were moved into an archived patient folder under the wrong date."
"By who?"
"Administrative credentials tied to Vale Medical Services."
Dominic's private rehabilitation unit ran through one of his companies.
Arthur chaired its oversight committee.
Vincent's phone rang.
He listened, then swore.
"The tow-yard photographs show two wheel bolts sheared and two missing entirely."
Dominic's chest tightened.
"The police report?"
"Says impact damage."
"Could they have been loosened first?"
"Yes."
Clare whispered, "Then somebody tried to kill you."
Dominic looked at the photo.
"Or hurt me badly enough to make me replaceable."
Arthur had spent fifteen years waiting for Dominic to make one mistake.
He had always preferred patience to force.
A disabling crash followed by a slow medical decline fit him better than a bullet ever would.
Vincent checked another message. "Our people found a traffic camera from two blocks before the crash. Vehicle was stable. No visible tire failure."
Mercer looked sick.
"If someone loosened the bolts, why didn't the wheel come off sooner?"
"Maybe they didn't need certainty," Dominic said. "Only a chance."
A floorboard creaked behind them.
Vincent spun and drew his weapon.
A house guard stood in the doorway, hands raised.
"Easy. Message from upstairs. Mr. Voss is asking for his attorney."
"He can ask," Dominic said.
The guard hesitated.
"There's more. One of the councilmen is gone."
Vincent stared. "Gone where?"
"We don't know. Leonard Fisk was in the east sitting room. Guard stepped away because the smoke alarm panel started beeping. When he came back, Fisk was missing."
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
The estate was locked.
The exterior gates were closed.
Nobody should have been able to leave.
Then Clare looked toward the stone wall behind the wine racks.
"You said this house has old secrets."
Dominic understood instantly.
"Tunnels."
The hidden Prohibition passages had not been used in decades.
At least, that was what he believed.
Vincent pulled up the old estate blueprint.
One passage led from the cellar to a carriage house beyond the main security perimeter.
And when they reached the tunnel door, the dust on the floor had been disturbed by fresh shoeprints.
May you like
Two sets going out.
One set coming back.
