Page 89 of Fatal Fame
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The smell of industrial disinfectant filled Mia's nostrils as she made her way through the familiar corridors of Adirondack Medical Center. Two days had passed since the shootout in Gideon's room, two days since Anita Emerson's body had been wheeled out on a gurney, since Camila was led away in handcuffs. The hospital had returned to its normal rhythm of controlled chaos, but the third-floor ICU still carried an undercurrent of tension from staff who'd witnessed violence.
Mia knocked softly on Gideon's door before pushing it open, then immediately averted her eyes as she realized she'd walked in on a nurse finishing his bed bath. The intimacy of the moment—seeing someone she'd come to respect rendered so vulnerable—made her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
"Sorry, I'll come back later," she said, already backing toward the door.
"Ah, I was just finishing up," the nurse said. "You're good."
The nurse, a middle-aged woman with graying hair and kind eyes, gathered her supplies and nodded to Mia. "He's been asking about you. Try not to tire him out too much, he's still healing."
Gideon still had an impressive array of tubes attached to various parts of his body, snaking toward machines that beeped and hummed. His heart rate displayed steadily on the monitor; a reassuring rhythm that confirmed life continued despite the trauma his body had endured. The swelling in his face had gone down considerably, revealing the intelligence in his eyes that had made him such an effective investigative blogger.
Mia pulled up the vinyl visitor's chair and positioned it beside his bed, studying his face for signs of pain. "You look like..."
"Death warmed up?" Gideon managed a slight smile that transformed his bruised features. "That's what everyone keeps telling me. Real confidence booster."
"You know I'm truly sorry," Mia said, her voice holding the weight of guilt she'd been carrying since waking up in her own hospital bed. "They said you're going to be paralyzed for life."
"It's not your fault."
"Had I not darkened your doorstep, you wouldn't have been out there. You'd be home writing blog posts or sifting through old DVDs, not lying here with a broken back."
"Oh please, Sutherland," Gideon said with more energy than she'd expected. "You really think you would have solved this all by yourself?"
"I did uncover a few things."
"With my help."
Despite everything, Mia found herself smiling. "I guess so. Still, it doesn't lessen the impact of knowing that..."
"That I won't walk again?"
She nodded, unable to say the words aloud.
"Mia, it's going to take wild horses to pull me over to the side of believing that. These people don't know who Gideon Marks is. I am going to walk again, mark my words. No pun intended," hesaid. "So swallow that guilt. I led you out there, not the other way around. It was that cop who pushed me in, not you."
The conviction in his voice was so absolute that Mia almost believed him. She'd read about spinal cord injuries, understood the medical realities, but Gideon's refusal to accept limitations reminded her why she'd trusted him as an ally in the first place.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a copy of theAdirondack Daily Enterprise,unfolding it to reveal the front page headline: "DECADE-OLD COLD CASE SOLVED: Local Blogger and Police Daughter Uncover Truth Behind Hale Murders."
"You made the front page," she said, showing him the paper.
Gideon's eyes scanned the article as Mia read portions aloud: "The investigation revealed not only the identity of Rebecca and Jacob Hale's killer—Travis Rudd, a former student obsessed with the victim—but also exposed a systematic cover-up that reached into local law enforcement. The revelation has brought closure to the surviving family members and vindicated eyewitness Connor Walsh, whose claims about seeing a suspicious vehicle were initially dismissed by investigators."
The article continued: "Pierce Landry, the podcast host whose investigation sparked the renewed interest in the case, has been posthumously honored by the true crime community. The latest season ofA Cold Trailhas achieved record listenership as people tune in to understand the full scope of the conspiracy. The death of Sergeant Anita Emerson during the hospital confrontation has prompted an internal affairs investigation into potential corruption within the Adirondack County Sheriff's Office."
"Of course, I think the newspaper has her reasoning all wrong," Mia said, folding the paper.
"They're speculating,” he said.
“Of course, and the truth is we may never fully know how or why she killed Travis Rudd, who was obsessed with Rebecca Hale. No mystery there. But from what I've been able to discern, and her last words, she received a large sum of money ten years ago to assist her ailing mother and had been fast-tracked for promotions over others who had worked for the office longer, leading some to believe that she was a mole for someone in power."
“They’ll follow the money trail.”
“I’m sure they will.”
"Have you asked yourself if she killed Travis?” Gideon asked, his investigative instincts still sharp despite his physical condition.
