My hands shook violently as I picked up Kelly’s black leather binder and turned to the rear pocket. Tucked behind the daily care logs was a folded stack of legal documents printed on heavy archival paper.
I unfolded them beneath the dim reading lamp.
The first document was a corporate resolution transferring the entirety of Paxton’s refrigeration company, its land titles in Glendale, and its three-million-dollar equipment reserve into a subsidiary managed by Raymond and Holden.
The second document made my stomach drop into a freezing abyss.
It was an application for a four-million-dollar key-man life insurance policy taken out on Paxton’s life eighteen months ago—paid for entirely by Albert’s holding company. And attached to the back was a pre-signed, pre-dated affidavit from Nurse Kelly, witnessed by Albert’s corporate attorney.
It stated that on the night of July 31st, Nicole Hunter had administered a fatal, accidental overdose of sedative to her husband while his family was out of the country.
“They didn’t just want my business, Nicole,” Paxton whispered, his voice gaining strength as the paralytic wore off further. “They used my company assets as collateral for a high-risk offshore loan to save Raymond’s boutiques. The lender gave them a deadline. They needed the insurance payout… and they needed a scapegoat.”
“They were going to let you die tonight…” I gasped, horror choking my throat. “While they were on an international flight… so they’d have an airtight alibi!”
“And Kelly’s entry at 7:30 p.m. was meant to prove you gave me the lethal dose before she went on her break,” Paxton said, his eyes cold as steel. “The flight to Tokyo leaves at 7:00 p.m. Once their plane took off over the Pacific, Kelly was going to come back in here and finish it.”
I looked out the glass doors into the darkening courtyard. Kelly was standing near the pool house, her phone held to her ear, watching her watch.
“What do we do?” I asked, my voice trembling with fear and rising rage. “We call the police right now.”
“No,” Paxton said, sitting up in the bed and swinging his legs over the edge. “If we call the local police now, my father’s high-priced lawyers will claim Kelly made an administrative error and that I’m delirious. We need to catch all of them—including my parents—in the net.”
He looked at me, a cold, fierce smile breaking across his face. “In forty-five minutes, Kelly is going to step back through that door with a syringe. We’re going to let her write her final entry.”
