Chapter 3 - Room 314
The rain had turned into a thick, misty fog by the time Ethan’s Mercedes pulled into the emergency parking lot of Hudson Valley Medical Center. He sprinted through the automatic glass doors, his wet coat heavy against his shoulders, adjusting his tie to present the image of a distraught, loving son.
He took the elevator to the third floor, his shoes squeaking against the polished linoleum corridor. Outside Room 314, two uniformed police officers stood talking to a tall man in a dark trench coat.
Ethan slowed his pace, taking a deep breath to steady his voice. He forced tears to weld in his eyes, clutching his chest as he approached.
“Officers,” Ethan gasped, playing the frantic relative. “Is she okay? Can I see my mother?”
The man in the trench coat turned. He had silver hair, tired eyes, and a silver badge pinned to his belt. “Ethan Hayes?”
“Yes. Detective, please, how is she? The doctor told me she was sleeping, but I couldn’t stay at home knowing she was hurt.”
Detective Miller studied Ethan for a long, uncomfortable moment. His eyes traveled from Ethan’s immaculate silk tie down to the cuff of his right sleeve. A tiny, dark stain—dried chicken soup mixed with a specks of red— rested against the white fabric.
“Your mother isn’t in Room 314 anymore, Mr. Hayes,” Detective Miller said quietly.
Ethan’s heart skipped a beat. “What? Where is she? Was there a complication with her head injury?”
“She was discharged forty minutes ago,” Miller replied. “At her own request. A private transport vehicle picked her up.”
Ethan blinked, stunned. “Discharged? She had a concussion! She was sedated!”
“The hospital staff evaluated her and cleared her,” Miller said, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed. “She seemed remarkably alert. In fact, she handed us a thumb drive before she left. Said it contained evidence regarding an incident at your estate tonight.”
Ethan’s blood ran cold. The air in the hallway felt suddenly thin, suffocating.
“She’s... she’s confused, Detective,” Ethan stammered, his polished corporate voice cracking. “My mother has been showing severe signs of cognitive decline for months. She falls, she forgets things, she makes up stories. Whatever is on that drive, it’s the product of an unstable mind.”
“Is that so?” Miller reached into his pocket and pulled out a small digital recorder. “Because the video on that drive looks pretty clear to me, Mr. Hayes. It shows a thirty-four-year-old man striking an elderly woman in the face with a ceramic dinner plate.”
Ethan took a step back, his hand instinctually rising. “That... that was an accident. She spilled the soup, I reached out to catch the plate, and—”
“Save it for your lawyer,” Miller interrupted, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt. “Ethan Hayes, you are under arrest for felony elder abuse and assault with a deadly weapon.”
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“Do you know who I am?!” Ethan shouted, his composure shattering completely as the officers grabbed his arms. “I am the acting CEO of Hayes Medical Technologies! You can’t touch me!”
“Your mother already did,” Miller said softly as the cuffs snapped tight around Ethan’s wrists.
