Chapter 6: The Thing Mark Knew
Mark had found it by accident.
Fourteen months earlier, he had been at Hale's warehouse to deliver a shipment.
He was early.
The loading dock was empty except for one man he didn't recognize, transferring sealed crates into a refrigerated truck.
The crates had medical supply labels on the outside.
But one had been dropped and the seal had broken and Mark had seen what was inside before anyone noticed him standing there.
It wasn't surgical sedative.
"What was it?" I asked.
Mark looked at Rourke.
Rourke gave a small nod.
"Fentanyl," Mark said.
"Pressed into tablet form.
Packaged to look like a prescription painkiller.
Thousands of units."
I sat with that for a moment.
"You saw this and you said nothing."
"I was already in too deep.
If I went to the police about Hale, everything I'd done came with it."
"So you stayed quiet."
"I took a photograph.
On my phone.
I thought—" He stopped.
"I thought if I ever needed leverage, I'd have it."
"And Malcolm found out."
"I don't know how.
But yes.
He found out I had it." Mark pressed both hands flat on the table.
"He told Hale.
And Hale decided the cleanest solution was to make sure I couldn't use it."
I thought about Emma lying on the hospital floor.
The unicorn cup.
The sedative in her bloodstream.
"They were going to come to the party," I said.
"Yes."
"And Rachel knew about the photograph?"
"No.
Rachel only knew about the debt and Malcolm.
I never told her about the fentanyl.
I was afraid that if she knew the full scale of it she'd go straight to the police and we'd all—" He stopped again.
"We'd all what, Mark?"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
I turned to Rourke.
"Does he still have the photograph?"
"He does."
"And it's enough?"
Rourke chose his words carefully.
"Combined with your sister's documentation, it would be enough to reopen a federal investigation that was previously closed for lack of evidence."
I thought about Carol Voss saying those same words.
*That case may not stay closed.*
"I need to make a call," I said.
I went into the hallway and called Carol.
I told her about the photograph.
She was quiet for three full seconds, which was the longest I had heard her go without speaking.
"Tell your husband not to send that photograph to anyone," she said.
"Not to Rourke, not to you, not to anyone.
Tell him to keep it on his phone and keep his phone on his person until I say otherwise."
"Why?"
"Because if Hale has people watching this house, he may also have someone watching what leaves it electronically."
I went back into the kitchen.
"Don't send the photograph to anyone," I said to Mark.
"Keep your phone with you."
Rourke started to object.
I looked at him.
"My attorney's instruction," I said.
He closed his mouth.
Mark reached into his pocket and wrapped his hand around his phone.
That night, after Rourke left, I sat across from Mark at the kitchen table for a long time without speaking.
Emma was asleep upstairs.
The house was quiet.
"I want to ask you something," I said finally.
"Okay."
"If Rachel hadn't been there.
If she hadn't made that lemonade and gotten Emma to the hospital.
What would have happened at that party?"
Mark looked at his hands.
May you like
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
