Chương 4
Across the hall, Evan’s aunt finally arrived.
Her name was Tessa Cole.
She was thirty-three, still wearing navy-blue scrubs beneath an oversized sweatshirt. Her hair was twisted into a knot that had partially collapsed. She came through the doors furious.
Claire heard her before she saw her.
“You left the apartment?”
Evan muttered something.
“You crossed downtown alone?”
“I had to.”
“You had to?”
“Mom said—”
“Your mother said a lot of things in the last week of her life because she was terrified and barely sleeping.”
Evan’s voice rose.
“She was right.”
“Lower your voice.”
“She was right.”
Tessa pressed both hands to her face.
When she removed them, she was crying without looking like she intended to.
Claire turned away.
Not out of politeness exactly.
Some grief did not improve under observation.
A few minutes later, Tessa appeared at Claire’s curtain.
“Ms. Whitmore?”
“Claire.”
Tessa looked exhausted enough to resent the correction.
“I’m Evan’s aunt.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Tessa blinked.
“For tonight. For the gala. For him breaking in. For whatever he said.”
“Do you believe what he said?”
Tessa looked over her shoulder.
Evan sat at a small table folding and unfolding the corner of a hospital brochure.
“I believe my sister thought something was wrong.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
Tessa’s answer was immediate.
Then she closed her eyes.
“No, that came out wrong. I don’t know. Rachel was scared. She had started thinking somebody was following her. She thought her manager was hiding records. She thought she was going to get fired because of your prescriptions. Then she was fired.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“They said she accessed information she wasn’t supposed to.”
“Did she?”
“I don’t know.”
Claire glanced toward Evan.
“He said she filled prescriptions for Daniel.”
“She filled prescriptions for everybody. That was her job.”
“Did she ever mention him?”
Tessa hesitated.
“Yes.”
Claire waited.
“Not at first. Then all the time.”
“What did she say?”
“That the pickups were strange. That some prescriptions were being filled too early or moved between locations. That she’d seen Mr. Cross come in instead of a nurse. That one label didn’t match what she remembered from the system.”
“Remembered?”
“She didn’t print anything.”
The answer sounded practiced.
Claire looked at her.
Tessa’s mouth tightened.
“At least, she told me she didn’t.”
“Did she?”
“I found some things after she died.”
Claire’s pulse accelerated.
“What things?”
“Notes.”
“Where are they?”
“Safe.”
“From whom?”
Tessa gave a tired, humorless laugh.
“Everybody, right now.”
The police officer who interviewed Claire asked whether she wanted to report Daniel for assaulting Evan.
Claire said she had not seen an assault beyond the grab at the hoodie.
The officer asked whether she believed Daniel was tampering with her medication.
Claire said she did not know.
The officer asked whether she feared Daniel.
Claire took too long to answer.
“I want him kept away from my medications and my home until I understand what happened.”
The officer wrote that down.
“What about your home?” Claire asked.
“What about it?”
“He has access.”
“Does he live there?”
“Not officially.”
“Does he have keys?”
“Yes.”
“Alarm codes?”
“Yes.”
“Staff authority?”
Claire looked toward the ceiling.
“Yes.”
The word sounded worse each time.
By noon, Daniel had issued a statement through his attorney.
Claire did not read it.
Her publicist did and then called.
“He says a troubled minor trespassed at a charitable event and made false claims based on confidential medical information unlawfully accessed by his deceased mother.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Rachel.”
“What?”
“Her name was Rachel.”
A pause.
“Okay.”
“What else?”
“He says you’re receiving appropriate medical care and asks for privacy.”
“Did he speak for me?”
“He says ‘we.’”
Claire opened her eyes.
“No more we.”
Her publicist went silent.
Claire had worked with Naomi Briggs for seven years. Naomi did not often lose words.
“Do you want me to release something?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Claire looked through the narrow window toward the parking garage.
A man in a red jacket was arguing with a payment machine. Somewhere down the hall, a baby was crying. A janitor pushed a gray cart past her door.
Normal life continued with an almost insulting commitment.
“Say I’m safe,” Claire said. “Say I’m undergoing an independent medical review. Say I’ve asked that no conclusions be drawn about Evan or his mother while facts are being checked.”
“And Daniel?”
“Nothing.”
“Claire.”
“Nothing.”
“That will say something.”
“I know.”
Daniel came to the hospital at two.
He did not get past security.
He called from downstairs.
Claire answered on the sixth ring.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
No greeting.
No concern.
That hurt more than it should have.
“Lying in a hospital bed.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m beginning to.”
“Your statement practically accuses me.”
“It doesn’t mention you.”
“Exactly.”
Claire rubbed her thumb along the emerald stone.
“Did you pick up my medication from Bowman Pharmacy?”
“Yes.”
The answer startled her.
“When?”
“A dozen times. Maybe more. You know that.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You were recovering from a spinal injury.”
“What were you picking up?”
“Whatever the pharmacy had ready.”
“Names.”
“Claire.”
“Names.”
“I’m not going through your entire medication list over the phone.”
“Why not?”
“Because this has become insane.”
She heard him exhale.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then his voice softened.
“You were in pain.”
Claire’s throat tightened.
“I know.”
“You couldn’t sleep. You were having spasms. You were terrified every time your foot didn’t respond. There were nights you begged me to call someone.”
“I know.”
“I did.”
“I know.”
“I handled things because you asked me to.”
There it was.
Not a lie.
That was what made it dangerous.
Claire had asked.
She had begged him to handle things.
Hospital forms. Insurance calls. Therapy schedules. Medication pickups. Contractor changes at the house. The humiliating mountain of daily work that appeared when a body stopped cooperating.
May you like
She had thanked him for doing it.
“I asked for help,” she said.
