Chapter 23 - The Shadow of the Buckeye
By July, the warmth of the Pacific Northwest had reached its peak, the sun lingering over the Olympic Mountains until nearly ten o'clock at night. The peace that had settled over Eleanor’s life felt durable, cemented by the unanimous support of her staff and the formal dismissal of the medical board’s audit.
But a new letter arrived on a Thursday afternoon. It didn't come through Maya or the hospital mailroom; it was delivered directly to her private residence on Queen Anne Hill by a certified courier service from Columbus, Ohio.
The envelope was heavy, cream-colored paper, stamped with the seal of the Ohio State Department of Corrections.
Eleanor sat on her porch, the distant hum of the Seattle harbor below, as she tore open the seal. Inside was a single page of legal notice, accompanied by a handwritten note on cheap, yellow legal pad paper.
Eleanor,
They moved me back to the state facility after the Seattle mess. The federal charges didn't stick to the core, but the state is making sure I stay in this box until I’m an old man. My lawyers say I have one shot at a sentence reduction under the state’s medical mitigation program. I need a signature from a certified board-eligible cardiothoracic surgeon stating that my historic heart murmur requires specialized out-of-state treatment at a facility near my family.
I know what you're thinking. Why would you help me? Because Julian’s people didn't find those hidden Sinclair accounts by accident, Eleanor. Your father didn't just leave a ledger in the mountains—he left a second vault key in the old family home in Columbus. The house you refused to sell after the divorce. The key is inside the brickwork of the basement fireplace.
If you sign the mitigation form, the key is yours. If you don't, I’ve instructed my attorney to release the location of that vault to a third-party buyer from the old Vance syndicate who is currently looking for leverage against your mother.
Choose carefully, Ellie. I’m in a cell, but I can still make the ground shake under your feet.
— Richard
Eleanor felt a familiar, cold snake of anger twist in her stomach, but it was immediately replaced by a profound, calculating stillness. Richard was desperate. His attempt to rob the hospital had failed, his federal cover was gone, and he was now resorting to the old, small-time blackmail that had defined his early career before he met the Vances.
She picked up her phone, dialing Marcus’s number. "Marcus, are you finished with your afternoon clinic?"
"Just wrapped up a post-op check on a toddler," Marcus’s voice came through, warm and instantly grounding. "What’s wrong? You sound like you’re in surgeon mode."
"Richard sent a letter from prison," Eleanor said, her voice tight. "He’s trying to use the old family home in Ohio as leverage. He claims there’s another key hidden there—something that could threaten my mother."
"Don't sign anything, Eleanor," Marcus said instantly. "It’s a trap. He wants a clinical signature so he can claim medical transfer, and once he’s out of that state facility, his friends will ensure he disappears."
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"I’m not signing it," Eleanor said, looking out at the golden sunset over the bay. "But I am going to Ohio. I need to clear that house out once and for all. I won't let him keep a single piece of my family’s history as a weapon."
"You aren't going alone," Marcus said. "I have four days of mandatory CME leave starting tomorrow. We’re taking the red-eye to Columbus."
