Chapter 5 - THE BRASS KEY
"His son told you he was dead?" Eleanor gasped, her professional composure finally breaking.
"Richard Harrison filed a death certificate with our administrative office in October," my mother said quickly, working her stethoscope under Frank’s coat. "He claimed his father suffered a fatal stroke during transport to a private hospital. He legally sealed the medical files."
"Because if Frank is legally dead, Richard inherits the voting shares of the company," Eleanor whispered, the horrifying puzzle falling into place. "Richard didn't just freeze his accounts yesterday. He’s been keeping Frank prisoner for six months, waiting for him to pass away, and Frank finally managed to escape."
"We are losing him," my mother interrupted, her voice sharp. "His core temp is critical. We need to get him into the back of my transport van right now. The heater in there is industrial-grade. Eleanor, drive your car behind us and call the hospital to prep a trauma bay for severe hypothermia!"
We hoisted Frank into the back of the medical van. The blast of hot air from the vents felt like walking into an oven. I scrambled into the back with my mother, kneeling on the rubber floor mat as she frantically rubbed Frank’s arms to stimulate blood flow.
"Mom," I cried over the roar of the van’s heater. "Darren fired me last night. He fired me because I bought Frank dinner, and then he threw Frank into the snow to die!"
My mother’s hands didn't stop moving, but she looked up at me. Her worn nursing shoes were soaked with snow, her uniform stained, but in that moment, she looked like a warrior.
"You bought a hungry man dinner, Emily," my mother said fiercely, her eyes blazing with pride. "You did the right thing. And Darren Cole is going to rot in a prison cell for the rest of his life."
Under the blasting heat and the steady flow of oxygen, Frank’s chest suddenly heaved. He gasped, his eyes fluttering open. The blue tint on his lips was slowly receding.
"Frank," my mother said softly, leaning over him. "It’s Sarah. From Oak Creek."
Frank blinked, his vision clearing. "Sarah? The nurse with the kind hands?"
"Yes, sir," my mother smiled, wiping a tear from her cheek. "You're safe now."
Frank turned his head and saw me holding his hand. He then looked at my mother. "Emily... is your daughter?"
"She is."
Frank let out a weak, rattling breath and closed his eyes in relief. "I knew it. I knew she had the same heart." He squeezed my hand weakly. "The key, Emily. Do you have the key?"
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the strangely shaped brass key I had taken from the silver pocket watch. "I have it. What does it open, Frank?"
"When Darren dragged me into his office last night," Frank rasped, struggling to speak, "he was terrified because I started asking why the restaurant’s profit margins were artificially destroyed. I was the founder. I know how to read the floor. Darren isn't just embezzling, Emily. He is intentionally driving Harrison’s Grill into bankruptcy."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because my son, Richard, promised Darren a million-dollar payout if the restaurant fails," Frank coughed. "If the restaurant goes bankrupt, the corporate charter requires the land to be sold at auction. Richard has a shell company ready to buy the land for pennies and build a commercial shopping center. Darren has the physical contract proving the conspiracy locked in his desk."
"The bottom right drawer of Darren's desk," I whispered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "It's the only drawer he never let anyone touch. It has a high-security lock on it."
"This key opens it," Frank said, his strength fading again. "I had a master key made for every franchise manager's desk thirty years ago. I kept it hidden in the watch. You have to get that contract, Emily. If Richard finalizes the sale of the land today, thousands of employees across the region will lose their jobs, just like you did."
"I'll give the key to Eleanor," I said. "She can get the police."
"No," Frank wheezed, gripping my wrist with surprising desperation. "The local police chief is Richard's country club friend. If you hand that key over, the contract will disappear before Eleanor can even file a motion. You have to get the paper first."
The van lurched as we hit a pothole, speeding toward the hospital.
I looked at the brass key in my palm. Darren had taken my apron and my nametag last night, but in my panic, I had forgotten to turn in one crucial item on my keyring: the heavy iron key to the restaurant's back delivery door.
"I can get inside," I said, my heart pounding in my ears. "The lunch rush starts in twenty minutes. Darren will be in the dining room dealing with customers. The back office will be empty."
"Emily, absolutely not!" my mother snapped. "It's too dangerous!"
"Mom, he threw a dying man into the snow to cover his tracks, and he ruined my name in this town," I said, looking her directly in the eyes. "I am not letting him get away with it."
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Before my mother could stop me, the van pulled into the hospital emergency bay. Paramedics rushed out, pulling Frank's stretcher from the back.
In the chaos, I slipped out the side door, clutching the brass key. I ran two blocks to where Eleanor had parked her Town Car, pulled open the driver's door, and told the driver, "Take me to the back alley of Harrison's Grill. Right now."
