Chương 3
The nurse noticed the sender’s name.
“Is Nora the caregiver?”
“Yes.”
“Is she coming?”
“No.”
The nurse looked at him briefly, then returned to the screen.
Dr. Bell arrived twenty minutes later, damp-haired and breathless from the parking lot. She was a family physician in her early sixties who had cared for Evelyn for nine years. Daniel had met her twice. Both times had involved annual physicals he attended because Nora was unavailable.
Dr. Bell read the paramedic notes and asked Evelyn how she felt.
“Like people won’t stop asking me questions.”
“That’s usually how hospitals work.”
Evelyn gave a faint smile. It disappeared when Dr. Bell asked about medication.
“Nora keeps those.”
“You take them.”
“She puts them in the little boxes.”
“Did she give you something this morning?”
Evelyn’s eyes shifted toward Daniel.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you remember?”
“The zipper.”
“What zipper?”
“The suitcase. She kept opening it and closing it. She said we were going away.”
Daniel leaned forward. “Where?”
“I asked. She said somewhere quiet.”
“When was this?”
Evelyn rubbed her thumb against the hospital sheet. “Today. Yesterday. I don’t know.”
Dr. Bell rested a hand lightly on Evelyn’s forearm.
“Did you want to go somewhere quiet?”
“I wanted her to stop talking about it.”
The nurse drew blood and collected a urine sample. Dr. Bell explained that they would check for infection, dehydration, electrolyte imbalance, and medication effects. She avoided promising an answer. Daniel wanted certainty from her and resented her for behaving like a doctor instead of a witness.
“Could Nora have drugged her?” he asked in the hallway.
“She could have received too much of something, intentionally or by mistake. She could also be confused for another reason.”
“There were dozens of prescription bottles.”
“I’m aware.”
“Most were in my mother’s name.”
“That doesn’t tell us what was inside them.”
“She was about to give her water.”
“Water is not evidence of poisoning.”
Daniel folded his arms.
Dr. Bell looked tired. “I’m not dismissing what you saw. I’m telling you not to decide what happened before we have the results.”
“She said Nora was taking the house.”
“Evelyn also thought today was Monday.”
“She knew who I was.”
“Confusion is not all or nothing.”
Daniel glanced through the narrow glass panel in the door. His mother had turned toward the wall again. “Was she capable of signing legal documents?”
“That depends on when, what documents, what she understood, and whether her condition was being affected. Capacity is specific. It can fluctuate.”
He hated every careful word.
“What should I do?”
“Stay with her. Answer the detective honestly. And do not pressure your mother to remember things she may not remember.”
Daniel bristled. “I’m not pressuring her.”
Dr. Bell held his gaze.
He looked away first.
An officer named Grant arrived to take his statement. Daniel described the scene three times: once in order, once backward, and once with particular attention to where everyone’s hands had been. Grant asked why Daniel had gone to the house that morning.
“My mother called me last night.”
“What did she say?”
“She left a voicemail. Mostly silence. Then she said, ‘Bring the blue folder.’”
“What blue folder?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you call back?”
“Yes. Nora answered her phone. She said Mom had pressed my number by accident and was already asleep.”
“Did you speak to your mother?”
“No.”
“Why did you come this morning?”
“I had a meeting nearby.”
Grant waited.
Daniel stared at the floor.
“I changed the meeting,” he said. “The voicemail bothered me.”
“What time did you arrive?”
“Ten fifty-three. Maybe ten fifty-four.”
“Was the front door locked?”
“Yes. I used my key.”
“Did Ms. Blake know you were coming?”
“No.”
“Does your mother normally ask you to announce visits?”
“Nora does.”
“Why?”
“She says surprises agitate Mom.”
“Do they?”
“Sometimes.”
Grant wrote without comment.
When Daniel finished, the officer asked whether he had concerns about Nora before that morning.
“No.”
“Any missing money? Property? Medication?”
“No.”
“Arguments?”
“Not with me.”
“Did your mother ever complain?”
Daniel almost said no. Then he remembered a call in February when Evelyn had murmured that Nora was “too bossy about the mail.” He had told her Nora was trying to help.
“She complained Nora opened envelopes.”
“Financial mail?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you follow up?”
“No.”
Grant’s pen stopped for less than a second. “Why not?”
“My mother complains about everyone.”
The sentence sounded cruel in the hospital corridor. Daniel added, “She complained about me, too.”
“What did Ms. Blake have access to?”
“The house. Grocery card. Pharmacy pickup. Doctor appointments. Her calendar.”
“Bank accounts?”
“Not directly.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nora sometimes helped her log in.”
Grant looked up. “To online banking?”
“Mom couldn’t read the verification codes quickly enough.”
“Could Ms. Blake see the passwords?”
“I suppose.”
“Did she have permission to make transactions?”
“Small payments. Utilities. Groceries.”
“Was that permission written?”
Daniel rubbed his forehead. “There was a caregiving agreement.”
“Who prepared it?”
“The agency.”
“Which agency?”
“Harbor Home Support.”
“And Ms. Blake still worked through them?”
“No. Not after the first three months.”
Grant set down his pen.
Daniel explained. Harbor Home Support had sent Nora for daytime shifts after Evelyn fractured her hip. When Evelyn needed overnight help, the agency’s rates had become too expensive. Nora offered to work directly for the family. She said the agency underpaid her and changed her schedule without warning. Daniel had checked two references, run a standard background report through an online service, and hired her privately.
“Did you consult an attorney?” Grant asked.
“No.”
“An accountant?”
“No.”
“Payroll company?”
“I paid her by check.”
“Taxes withheld?”
“Yes. Eventually.”
Grant did not ask what eventually meant.
Daniel’s phone vibrated. His wife, Rachel, had called four times. He had sent her only one message: At hospital with Mom. Serious. Will call.
He stepped into an alcove near the vending machines and called her. She answered before the first ring finished.
May you like
“What happened?”
He described the bedroom quickly. Rachel went silent.
