Chapter 4 - The Brother's GambitAt 2:00 PM the following afternoon, the quiet on the third-floor pediatric wing was broken by the sharp, heavy footfalls of dress shoes marching down the corridor.
I stood near the window of our private room, watching the gray rain stream down the glass overlooking the hospital parking lot. Lydia was asleep, her breathing deep and even for the first time in months.
The heavy wooden door of our room swung open without a knock.
A tall man in a dark grey suit and a leather trench coat stepped inside. He was fifty years old, with silvering hair, sharp, hawkish features, and a gold detective’s shield pinned to his belt.
It was Detective Richard Dixon—Gareth’s older brother.
Behind him stood a nervous hospital security guard who was clearly out of his depth.
"Out, guard," Richard commanded, his voice carrying the practiced, arrogant authority of a senior law enforcement officer. "I'm conducting an official follow-up interview on behalf of the county."
"You're not conducting anything, Detective Dixon," I spoke from the window, my voice low, cold, and razor-sharp.
Richard turned his hawkish eyes toward me. He looked so much like Gareth that my stomach took a sickening, instinctual lurch, but I forced my posture straight, keeping my misshapen wrist tucked against my side.
"Maya," Richard said, softening his expression into a practiced, paternal smile that didn't reach his cold blue eyes. "You're a smart girl. I've looked at your school transcripts. You have a bright future ahead of you. It would be a terrible shame if you ruined it over a misunderstanding."
He stepped closer to the foot of my bed, placing his hands on the metal rail.
"Your mother is beside herself," Richard continued smoothly. "Gareth is facing severe charges because of an emotional overreaction by an ER doctor who doesn't know your family. You know how Gareth gets when he's stressed. He has a temper, sure. But he provides for you. He put a roof over your head."
"He broke my wrist four months ago," I stated deadpan. "And he cracked my sister's ribs last night."
Richard waved his hand dismissively. "You girls were fighting on the stairs. Your mother signed an affidavit an hour ago confirming that she saw you push Lydia, and Gareth was simply trying to catch you both before you tumbled down."
A cold, bitter laugh escaped my throat. "My mother signed whatever Gareth told her to sign because she's a coward."
Richard’s fake smile vanished completely. The temperature in the room dropped into the freezing zone.
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"Listen to me very carefully, little girl," Richard whispered, leaning over the bed rail, his voice dropping into a low, predatory threat. "I run the narcotics unit in this county. I know judges, I know prosecutors, and I know how cases disappear from evidence lockers. If you press this forward, I will personally ensure that you and your sister are placed in a group home in State Line—the kind of place where girls like you don't make it to graduation. You drop the charges, you sign a retraction statement, and we handle this inside the family."
"She won't be signing anything, Detective," a sharp, clear voice rang out from the doorway.
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