Adrian sat.
He hated her for being right.
At 4:18, the attending physician came out.
The man was dehydrated.
Malnourished.
Mild hypothermia.
A healing fracture in two ribs.
Multiple older injuries.
No immediate life-threatening trauma.
He had been inside the concealed passage approximately two days based on hydration and his own semi-conscious account.
“He’s awake?”
“Intermittently.”
“Can I see him?”
“For a few minutes.”
Adrian entered alone.
The man lay beneath white blanket.
Monitors made everything feel too modern for a ghost.
His eyes opened.
Adrian stopped three feet from bed.
The man looked at him.
Then whispered:
“You got old.”
Adrian felt his throat close.
Julian had always done that.
When fear came, he joked.
At their mother’s surgery.
At their father’s first heart scare.
The night Adrian crashed his first motorcycle.
“You got old.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“So did you.”
Julian smiled weakly.
Then his face collapsed.
Adrian did not remember crossing distance.
He sat and took Julian’s hand.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Adrian said:
“Tell me something nobody else knows.”
Julian looked at him.
“First summer Dad let us use Cape house alone, you backed his Mercedes into seawall.”
Adrian’s eyes burned.
“You said it was me.”
“You were drunk.”
“You were driving.”
“You were seventeen.”
“You were twenty.”
Julian smiled.
“Dad believed me.”
“He always liked you more.”
“No.”
“He worried about me more.”
“Difference.”
Adrian looked away.
Tears escaped anyway.
Julian squeezed his hand weakly.
“Hey.”
Adrian looked back.
“You were dead.”
Julian’s face changed.
“I know.”
“I saw coffin.”
“I know.”
“I gave Daniel your ring.”
Julian’s eyes hardened.
“That’s where I found it.”
Adrian froze.
“What?”
“Mercer’s safe.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Adrian stared.
Julian breathed slowly.
“Adrian…”
“What happened?”
“Not here.”
“This is hospital.”
“He has people.”
“He had people where I was.”
“Where?”
Julian closed eyes.
“Saint Bartholomew.”
Adrian frowned.
“What is that?”
“Private neurological rehabilitation center.”
“New Hampshire.”
Elena, outside, was already searching perhaps.
Julian continued:
“Different name now.”
“Mercer used Dr. Kessler.”
“Who is Kessler?”
“Man who signed me into twelve years I didn’t consent to.”
Adrian’s blood ran cold.
“You were in hospital for twelve years?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then where?”
Julian opened eyes.
“A prison with nurses.”
Adrian stood abruptly.
Julian grabbed wrist.
“Do not go after him.”
“Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“He arranged this?”
“I think.”
“You think?”
“I can prove enough.”
“Then tell me.”