<b>“</b><b>Mom</b>, I <b>just</b>… I have no idea what’s really going on here. What <b>if </b><b>that </b><b>person </b>is actually the reason you passed out? And I went and thanked them <b>like </b><b>an </b><b>idiot</b>–what then? I did all this for you, Mom!”
Carlson listened in silence.
“There’s a card on my nightstand. It’s got about twenty grand on it–take it.” The <b>old </b>woman’s voice was t, as if she’d seen it all before.
Chester’s face lit up, his eyes gleaming. He couldn’t suppress the grin creeping across his lips.
“Mom, I knew you always took care of me best.”
Carlson had long since grown used to his mother’s inexplicable favoritism toward his younger brother. He would have brushed it off as usual, but this time she hadn’t even asked him for help with the money. That, he found a little surprising.
“Just in case, I think I’ll have the doctore by and check on you again.” He stood and, as he opened the door, found two police officers waiting outside.
Without a word, Carlson stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him.
“Is Chester here?<i>” </i>one of the officers asked.
“My mother just woke up. Any stress could be bad for her right now.”
The officers nodded, understanding. The three of them walked to the end of the corridor, out of earshot of those inside.
“Is there something I can help with? I’m Chester’s older brother.”
“Chester was involved in a hit–and–run two days ago. You reached a private settlement, and since the victim didn’t seem seriously hurt at the time, there was no prosecution. But we’ve just received a report: the victim suffered a brain hemorrhage and died suddenly. The doctors say it was because of a head injury from the ident that went untreated. Now the family wants to press charges. We need to bring Chester in for a statement.”
Carlson pressed his lips into a hard line. Suddenly, there was a sharp tter–the three of them turned to see a kettle rolling slowly across the floor, and Chester standing there, panic written across his face.
As they stared at him, Chester didn’t hesitate–he bolted.
<b>The </b><b>officers </b><b>sprang </b><b>into </b><b>action </b><b>and </b>chased <b>after </b><b>him </b>immediately.
<b>“</b><b>Idiot</b><b>!</b><b>” </b>Carlson felt a vein pulsing in his temple. It wasn’t bad <b>enough </b><b>that </b><b>Chester </b>wouldn’t cooperate–now he was running, practically begging for a <b>couple </b><b>years </b><b>in </b>prison.
“What’s going on?” A woman’s voice called out timidly. She’de out of the room after hearing themotion, her heart pounding as she stared at the kettle on the floor, a sense of dread rising in her chest.
“Hmph. This is what you get for trying to get a free ride–now it’s all blown up!” Carlson snorted. He could see it all too clearly: they’d already paid to make this go away, but now, at the worst possible moment, it hade back to haunt them. <i>And </i>he knew exactly who to me.
He didn’t bother to see where Chester was headed and went back into the hospital room, leaving the woman standing lost in the hallway. She stood there, uncertain, before running toward the exit to look for her husband.
“What happened?” The old woman’s words were drowsy–anesthesia still fogging her mind.
“This time, I can’t protect him.”
The hospital room was eerily quiet, broken only by the steady beeping of machines. The old woman was silent for a long time–so long that Carlson thought she’d fallen asleep. Then, atst, she let out a weary sigh.
“He’s always been your burden… But this time, let him pay for his own mistakes.”
Carlson said nothing.
At the Whitley Group, only Cole’s office was still lit.
“Mr. Whitley, the money’s been transferred.” If Carlson could pay to sweep things under the rug, Cole could just as easily pay to drag it all back out into the open.
After all, this was justice Chester had long owed.
“Oh, I’ll be out of the office tomorrow. Can you cover the summary meeting? All the files are here–keep an eye on these projects. I’ve noted the changes that need to be made; have the team revise ordingly.” Cole handed a thick folder to Larkin Yardley.
“Yes, sir.”
<b>08:02 </b>
<b>It’s </b><bte</b>. Head <b>home and </b><b>get </b><b>some </b>rest<b>.</b><b>” </b><b>Cole </b><b>rolled </b><b>his </b><b>neck</b><b>, </b><b>shut </b><b>down </b>his
and </b>grabbed his keys<b>, </b>switching <b>off </b><b>the </b><bst </b>light in <b>the </b><b>building </b><b>as </b>he left<b>. </b>
<b>The </b>next day at noon, Cole was waiting at Alessia’s ssroom <b>door</b><b>, </b><b>arriving </b><b>just </b><b>as </b>the bell rang and she stepped out.