The Blueprint (The Upgrade Book 1) by Wesley Cross Page A

idea.
    Kowalsky pulled up a list of recorded accidents for the same timeframe. Few slips and falls, a collapsed floor, boiler fire, carbon monoxide poisoning, and a few strokes. He paused for a moment and came back to gas poisoning, not quite sure why. A wealthy financier, Andrew Hunt, and his wife were found dead in their apartment. It was ruled out an accident. There was a gas leak that coincided with a malfunctioning of their ventilation unit. It was briefly investigated by a detective named Ron Pizetti, but no foul play was found and the case was closed.
    Kowalsky tried to trace the current owner of the penthouse, but it turned out to be a trust, and its beneficiaries weren’t disclosed. For now Chuck didn’t have enough to subpoena the records.
    He checked for kids, and it seemed that the Hunts had one son, Jason, who would have been in his thirties now. Chuck pulled up Jason’s information, but it appeared that the younger Hunt resided in Fort Lauderdale. Another dead end.
    Soft snoring interrupted Chuck’s line of thought. He turned around to see his partner leaning back in a chair, mouth wide open, a thin line of drool running down his chin. Chuck kicked the leg of Ryan’s chair that brought him out of his nap with a start.
    “Wake up. Let’s do some real estate shopping.” He grabbed his coat and started walking toward the elevator, his half-asleep stumbling partner in tow.

CHAPTER 9
    Jason woke up as the first rays of the rising sun broke through the half-open blinds of the hospital window. He watched the sky to change its hues from scarlet and mauve to lighter shades of pink and gold, then watched them fade into a pale morning winter glow. His body was stiff after sleeping in a hard chair, and he slowly stood stretching, trying to get some blood into his rigid limbs. He stood there for a few seconds, then, no longer able to contain himself, he gently pulled the curtain blocking the hospital bed from his view.
    Rachel was still asleep, her jet black hair around her sunken face in a perfect circle, like a black hole ready to consume her. She must have heard him, despite his efforts to be quiet; her eyes fluttered and her shallow breathing deepened.
    “Jason?”
    “I’m here.” He sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand.
    “What happened?” She managed to open her eyes and look at him. “It’s so embarrassing. Did I really pass out?”
    Jason felt as if something hot was burning his eyes. He stretched his hand and tenderly brushed her cheek.
    “Stop looking so worried,” she said and smiled to him. “I’m just overworked, that’s all.”
    He looked at her for a long time, unable to bring himself to speak, just sitting there, squeezing her hand, numb.
    “Alright.” She propped herself up on the pillow. “Now you’re starting to freak me out.”
    “I’m sorry, Rach,” he heard himself say, tears now running freely down his cheeks. “It turns out, you have lung cancer.”
    She grew tense, squeezing his hand tight, her eyes searching his face for clues, then, finally her body went limp and she let go of his hand and turned away from him to face the window.
    “How long?”
    “They don’t know,” he said, “but they think you’ve had it for a while.”
    “That’s not what I meant. How long do I have?”
    “Rach—”
    “How long?”
    “Few weeks. Maybe a couple of months. I’m so sorry.”
    “It’s okay,” she turned back but her eyes had a faraway look. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone for a little while. Bring me a nice breakfast, will you? French toast with a good maple syrup and a nice cup of coffee?”
    He stood, looking down on her, smiling at him as if nothing had happened. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but the words were refusing to form.
    “I’ll be quick,” he managed and left the room.
    He found Max in the hallway, right outside of Rachel’s room, sleeping on four hospital chairs pushed together, his lean body at an awkward