The First Thread

--- *LILY* *Chapter 3: The First Thread* Lily didn’t sleep after her shift. She told herself it was because of the coffee. Two cups in one night. Her body wasn’t used to caffeine after 6 PM. It wasn’t the coffee. It was Lawrence. And the way he said her name like he actually meant it. She got home at 8 AM, showered, and pulled out the manila folder. *CASE FILE: ROLAND.* The detective wanted her at the station at 10. She had two hours. She spread everything on the floor. Police reports. Newspaper clippings. Photos. Her finger traced over names she’d memorized years ago. Witnesses. Suspects. Dead ends. Then she saw it. Page 4 of the witness statements. _"...saw two men leaving the house. One mentioned Richard Corp. Thought I heard 'Richard'..."_ Her breath caught. She’d read this line a hundred times. But today it hit different. Because last night, in Room 402, a man named Richard had left her coffee. “Coincidence,” she whispered. “It’s a common name.” But her hands were shaking. She took a photo of the page and shoved everything back in the folder. --- *10:03 AM. Lagos State Police Command.* Detective Bello was older than she remembered. Tired eyes, gray hair. “Ms. Roland,” he said. “Thank you for coming.” She sat across from him. No small talk. “I found something,” she said, sliding the photo across the table. “The witness mentioned Richard Corp.” Bello sighed. “Lily. We looked into Richard Corp in 2009. They had an alibi. Board meeting in Abuja. 40 witnesses.” “They could’ve hired someone,” Lily said. “Paid them.” “We had nothing to tie them to the scene. No DNA. No prints. The case went cold.” “So you’re not going to reopen it?” “I’m saying we’ll look. Again.” He leaned forward. “But you need to be careful. If someone killed your parents over business, they won’t want you digging.” Lily stood. “I’m not stopping.” “I know,” Bello said. “That’s what worries me.” --- *7:00 PM. St. Mercy General. East Wing.* Lily walked in 10 minutes early. Her eyes were red but her scrubs were perfect. First stop: Room 402. Lawrence was already sitting up. No sling today. He had a laptop open and was on a video call. “...no, I don’t care what the board says. I’m not signing anything from a hospital bed,” he was saying. Then he saw her. His whole face changed. He ended the call. “Nurse Roland. Right on time.” “Lily,” she said, and immediately hated that she did. “How are you?” he asked. “You look...” “Tired,” she finished. “I’m fine.” She took his vitals. Quieter than usual. Her mind was still on that witness statement. “Can I ask you something?” Lawrence said as she wrapped the BP cuff. “Sure.” “Richard Corp. Does that name mean anything to you?” The cuff stilled on her arm. “Why?” she asked, voice flat. “No reason,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “My dad mentioned it. It’s a competitor. Just curious if you’d heard of them.” Lily finished the reading. 122/80. “No.” She was lying. She hated lying. “Okay,” Lawrence said. He was watching her. “You sure? Because you got really still.” “Vitals are done,” she said, packing up. “I’ll be back for your 10 PM meds.” She made it to the door. “Lily, wait.” She turned. “Did I do something?” he asked. “You’re different tonight.” She almost told him. Almost said _your name is in my parents’ murder file_. Instead she said, “Long day.” --- At 9:30 PM, during her break, Lily went to the hospital archives. St. Mercy kept digital records of every patient, but also old paper files in the basement. No cameras down there. She told herself she was looking for old admission forms. That was allowed. What she was really looking for was any link. Any Richard who’d ever been a patient here. The basement was cold and smelled like dust. She pulled boxes from 2009. Box 47. Box 48. Box 49. Inside: Charity event records. St. Mercy Gala, March 2009. Photos. Guest lists. Donor plaques. And there it was. A photo. 8x10. Glossy. A group shot. Her parents in the front row. Her mom in that green dress. And behind them, two rows back: a man in a suit. Mid 40s. Cold eyes. Caption under the photo: _Mr. Victor Richard & Son, Lawrence Richard - Platinum Donors_ Lily’s hands went numb. The little boy next to Victor Richard was about 8. Same sharp jaw. Same eyes. Lawrence. She dropped the photo. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Unknown number. She answered with shaking hands. “Lily Roland?” It was a woman’s voice. Smooth. Cold. “Yes.” “You need to stop looking into things that don’t concern you. For your own safety.” “Who is this?” Click. The line went dead. Lily stood in the dark basement, holding a 17-year-old photo of the man whose son was upstairs asking her about coffee. --- *10:00 PM. Room 402.* She walked in like nothing was wrong. That was her job. Lawrence was scrolling on his phone. He looked up and smiled. Real this time. “There she is,” he said. “I saved you a seat.” There was a chair pulled up to his bed. And on the tray table: two sandwiches. And another coffee. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said. “You skipped dinner.” “How do you know that?” “I asked Rina.” He shrugged. “She worries about you.” Lily stared at the coffee. Black. No sugar. “Lawrence,” she said. “Yeah?” “Do you know your dad’s business partners? From a long time ago?” His smile faded. “What kind of question is that?” “Just curious.” He studied her. “My dad’s had a lot of partners. Why?” “No reason,” Lily said. The same lie he told her an hour ago. The irony tasted bitter. She gave him his meds in silence. When she was done, she turned to leave. “Lily.” She stopped. “You can talk to me,” Lawrence said. “About anything. Even if it’s about me.” She looked at him. At the boy in the photo. At the man holding out coffee. And she walked out. --- At 6:50 AM, end of shift, she went back to the basement. The photo was gone. The whole box was gone. Someone had been here. Her phone buzzed. A text from the same unknown number. *STOP DIGGING OR YOU’RE NEXT.* Lily deleted it. Her hands weren’t shaking anymore. She looked up at the ceiling. At Room 402. And for the first time in 17 years, she felt afraid. Not for herself. For him. ---