Chapter 6 - The Brother’s Voice
The afternoon sun poured through the high windows of the Rosewood Care Center, filling the quiet rehabilitation room with a warm, golden glow.
Margaret sat in a comfortable armchair beside the bed, holding a warm cup of tea. For the first time in five years, she wasn't looking over her shoulder. She wasn't listening for the sound of a luxury car pulling into the driveway, and she wasn't bracing herself for a raised voice.
The door opened softly, and Austin Fontaine stepped into the room, holding a small digital tablet.
“How is he?” Austin asked quietly, stepping over to the bedside where nineteen-year-old Teddy sat propped up in his specialized motorized wheelchair.
“He’s wonderful,” Margaret smiled, her eyes shining with tears of relief. “The director just told me that the facility’s billing account has been paid in full for the next ten years, and they’ve assigned a dedicated physical therapist to work with him every single morning.”
Teddy’s eyes, bright and intensely sharp, fixed on the tablet mounted to his chair tray. A small red laser tracked his pupils as he scanned the onscreen keyboard, selecting letters one by one with practiced speed.
The synthetic voice box on the chair hummed to life.
"Who... is... the... tall... guy... with... the... scary... eyebrows?"
Margaret burst out laughing—a bright, clear, musical laugh that echoed off the white walls. It was the exact laugh Austin had heard her give eighteen months ago in room 709, the one that had stayed etched in his memory ever since.
Austin crossed his arms, a genuine, unforced smile breaking across his stern face. He walked over to the wheelchair, crouching down so he was eye-level with the young man.
“I’m Austin,” he said smoothly. “And I’m the guy who’s going to make sure your sister never has to worry about anything ever again.”
Teddy’s eyes danced with amusement. The laser darted across the screen again.
"Good. Tell... her... her... hair... still... looks... like... a... lawn... mower... accident."
Margaret gasped playfully, throwing a small pillow at her brother. “Teddy! I had it styled professionally yesterday!”
Austin chuckled, standing up and looking down at Margaret with an expression so warm and steady that her breath caught in her throat.
“Your brother has good taste,” Austin said softly. “And he’s right about one thing: you don't ever have to look back.”
As if on cue, the television mounted on the hospital wall flashed with a breaking news alert from the local Baltimore station.
“...breaking development at St. Ambrose Hospital this afternoon. Dr. Brandon Whitmore, celebrated cardiac surgeon and director of clinical research, has been placed under federal arrest following an emergency audit by the state medical board. Authorities are currently investigating allegations of multi-million dollar embezzlement and falsified medical records dating back over a decade...”
May you like
Margaret turned slowly to look at the screen, watching footage of federal agents leading a handcuffed, disheveled Brandon Whitmore out through the front doors of the hospital, shielding his face from the cameras he had once loved so much.
The ghost that had haunted her for five years was finally gone.
