Chapter 4 - The Gathering of Vultures
By 2:00 PM, the waiting room outside the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit had turned into a media circus.
Local news vans were parked along the curbing outside the hospital. Inside, Celia sat on a plush sofa in a tailored dark suit, crying softly into a silk handkerchief for a local news camera crew.
Martin sat beside her, staring blankly at the floor, holding a cup of untouched coffee.
Jenna stood near the vending machines, wearing a plush cashmere coat, speaking in hushed, urgent tones on her phone while Lucas stood three feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, acting as her protective companion.
They looked like a grieving, heartbroken family.
I walked through the double doors. The heavy thud of my boots against the linoleum made everyone turn around.
Celia gasped, standing up quickly. “David! Where have you been?! The police said you left without permission! They were looking for you!”
Jenna’s eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze darting to my face, searching for any sign of brokenness or surrender. “David... oh, thank God you’re okay. We were so worried you... you might have done something drastic.”
She was establishing the narrative for the police. She wanted everyone to think I was a unstable, shell-shocked veteran who had snapped and poisoned his own family.
I walked straight past Celia, straight past Martin, and stopped six inches from Lucas and Jenna.
The air between us went dead silent.
“How are the kids, David?” Lucas asked, his voice dripping with smooth, professional sympathy. “The doctors won't tell us anything. It’s an absolute tragedy... Elise... she was like a sister to me.”
I looked into Lucas’s pale blue eyes. I saw no guilt, no remorse, no fear—only the cold, calculating arrogance of a corporate thief who thought he had executed the perfect crime.
“Noah is in surgery,” I said, my voice dropping into a register so low and resonant it made the news crew lower their cameras. “Sophie is still on a ventilator.”
Jenna pulled out a tissue, dabbing her dry eyes. “If there’s anything we can do... financial arrangements, funeral planning for poor Elise... you know Lucas and I can handle all the legal paperwork so you don't have to stress, David.”
“I’m sure you’d love to handle the paperwork, Jenna,” I said, offering a slow, terrifyingly calm smile.
Jenna’s dabbing hand froze mid-air.
“What did you say?” she whispered.
I leaned down until my lips were right near her ear, smelling the expensive French perfume that couldn't hide the faint scent of sulfur and deceit.
“I said the gravy tasted a bit bitter, didn't it?” I whispered.
Jenna’s face completely drained of color. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Beside her, Lucas’s jaw clenched tightly, his eyes darting toward the hallway exit as his posture instantly went defensive.
Before either of them could speak, Detective Vance walked through the lobby doors with four uniformed state troopers behind him.
“David Mercer!” Vance called out, pulling his badge from his belt. “I need you to step away from the family and put your hands behind your back.”
Jenna let out a sudden, loud sob, falling back into Martin’s arms. “Officer! Please! He’s acting crazy! He just threatened us!”
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I didn't run. I didn't reach for my knife.
I slowly pulled out my satellite tablet, tapped the glass screen twice, and turned the high-definition 4K video player directly toward Detective Vance’s face.
