Chapter 11: The Third Prescription
Vanessa sat at the kitchen table while Rebecca questioned her.
The police had arranged for a medical examination. Thomas had instructed her not to take any more medication from bottles connected to Dr. Cole.
I stood by the refrigerator, listening.
"When did you begin taking the medication?"" Rebecca asked.
Vanessa rubbed her forehead.
"About six months ago.""
"Who prescribed it?""
"Dr. Cole.""
"Under what diagnosis?""
"Anxiety and sleep problems.""
Rebecca wrote something down.
"Did you have a medical evaluation?""
"Edward arranged the appointment.""
"Did you know Dr. Cole had treated Robert and Lily?""
Vanessa shook her head.
"No. I thought he was just a family doctor.""
I stared at her.
"How did Edward know you were having trouble sleeping?""
She looked up.
"He said I seemed exhausted.""
"Did you tell him?""
"No.""
"Then how did he know?""
Vanessa lowered her eyes.
"I don't know.""
I wanted to believe she was frightened.
But every answer raised another question.
Rebecca placed a photograph on the table.
It showed three prescription bottles.
One carried my father's name.
One carried Lily's.
The third carried Vanessa's.
"These prescriptions were issued using the same doctor identification," Rebecca explained.
"We need to establish whether the medications contained the same substance.""
Vanessa stared at the photographs.
"Could that explain why I've been forgetting things?""
"Possibly," Rebecca answered.
"But only a medical professional can determine that.""
Vanessa began crying.
"I thought I was losing my mind.""
I looked at her.
"What do you mean?""
"Sometimes I'd wake up and not remember conversations. I'd send messages and forget sending them. I thought it was stress.""
I remembered the strange gaps in her explanations.
The missing receipts.
The inconsistent stories.
For months, I'd assumed she was simply being dishonest.
Now there was another possibility.
Someone had been deliberately making her unreliable.
But that didn't erase what she'd done.
She had still transferred money from Maya's trust.
She had still hidden evidence.
And she had still allowed my daughter to be treated like an inconvenience.
I pulled out a chair.
"Did you ever feel like you were being watched?""
Vanessa nodded.
"Several times.""
"By whom?""
"Edward's driver. Sometimes a man I didn't recognize.""
Rebecca stopped writing.
"Did you report this?""
"No.""
"Why?""
Vanessa looked at me.
"Because Edward said he had enough information to put me in prison.""
I shook my head.
"You could have told me.""
She laughed through her tears.
"You wouldn't have believed me.""
I didn't answer.
Because she might have been right.
At noon, Thomas called.
"Marcus, I need you at the old family property.""
"What happened?""
"We found something.""
I looked at Rebecca.
She nodded.
"We'll meet you there.""
The old Carter house stood at the end of a quiet street lined with oak trees.
My father had purchased it when I was five.
I'd learned to ride a bicycle in the driveway and spent countless evenings sitting beneath the grandfather clock.
The clock had stopped at 8:17 the night he suffered his first heart attack.
I hadn't entered the house in years.
When I arrived, Thomas was standing beside the front door.
"Good timing.""
He showed me a photograph.
It depicted the clock.
But the glass panel was open.
"Someone has been here recently," he said.
I frowned.
"How do you know?""
"Fresh marks around the lock. And we found a fingerprint on the inside panel.""
Rebecca approached.
"Whose?""
Thomas looked at me.
"Vanessa's.""
I turned.
My wife stood behind Rebecca.
She looked confused.
"I've never been here.""
Thomas raised an eyebrow.
"Your fingerprint says otherwise.""
Vanessa shook her head.
"I swear I've never touched that clock.""
I remembered the medication.
The memory gaps.
The possibility that Edward had been manipulating her.
But I couldn't ignore the evidence.
Thomas opened the front door.
"We'll investigate.""
Inside, the house smelled of old wood and dust.
I walked toward the entrance hall.
The grandfather clock stood against the wall.
Its brass pendulum was still.
I touched the wooden frame.
My father had once told me that every family had a story hidden somewhere inside its oldest possessions.
I'd never understood what he meant.
Now I did.
I opened the glass panel.
Behind the clock face, something was wedged between the wooden supports.
A small metal key.
I pulled it free.
Rebecca examined it.
"Does it look familiar?""
I shook my head.
Thomas photographed it before allowing me to hold it again.
Then I noticed a small engraving.
A butterfly.
Lily's symbol.
I turned toward Rebecca.
"The blue room.""
We searched the house.
Behind the library bookshelf, a narrow wooden door was almost invisible against the dark paneling.
It was painted blue.
Maya had been right.
I inserted the key.
The lock turned.
The door opened.
Inside was a small room containing a desk, two filing cabinets, and a metal safe.
A single photograph hung on the wall.
My father.
Lily.
And Edward.
All three were standing together in front of the company headquarters.
On the back, someone had written:
*The last time we trusted each other.*
Thomas opened the filing cabinets.
They contained old business contracts, bank statements, and handwritten notes.
Rebecca found a folder labeled ORIGINAL SHAREHOLDER LEDGER.
Inside was a thick book.
She opened it carefully.
"Marcus, this is what your father was talking about.""
I looked at the entries.
Every transaction had been recorded in detail.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
And signatures.
Thomas photographed every page.
Then he stopped.
"Look at this.""
He pointed to an entry dated three months before Lily died.
A transfer of $450,000 had been authorized by Edward Hayes.
The recipient was Carter Family Holdings.
The same company that had received money from Maya's trust.
Rebecca turned the page.
There was another entry.
A payment to Dr. Martin Cole.
Then another.
And another.
I felt sick.
"How much did Edward pay him?""
Thomas calculated the amounts.
"At least $72,000.""
Rebecca looked at the dates.
"These payments began before Lily became ill.""
I stared at the ledger.
"Then the medication wasn't an isolated incident.""
Thomas nodded.
"That's what it suggests. We need laboratory and medical records to establish exactly what happened.""
I turned another page.
A handwritten note appeared in my father's writing.
Edward knows about the medication. He knows Lily has discovered the truth. If anything happens to either of us, Marcus must be warned.
Below it was a final sentence.
The person who delivered the first bottle was Vanessa.
I slowly turned toward my wife.
She was standing in the doorway.
Her face had gone completely white.
"I didn't know," she whispered.
Rebecca looked at her.
"Did you deliver medication to Lily before she became ill?""
Vanessa began shaking.
"Yes.""
"How many times?""
"Three.""
I closed the ledger.
"Why didn't you tell us?""
"Because I didn't remember.""
Thomas stepped forward.
"Vanessa, we need to ask you something important.""
He showed her a photograph of a man standing beside a black car.
"Do you recognize this person?""
Vanessa stared at the picture.
Then she nodded.
"That's Gregory Walsh.""
"The former financial manager?""
"Yes.""
Thomas lowered his voice.
"He's been missing for four days.""
Vanessa's hands began trembling.
"That's impossible.""
"Why?""
She looked at me.
"Because he called me yesterday.""
I stared at her.
"What did he say?""
Vanessa swallowed.
"He said Edward was preparing to leave the country.""
Thomas exchanged a glance with Rebecca.
"Did he tell you where Edward was going?""
Vanessa nodded slowly.
"He said Edward had already booked a flight.""
"Where?""
She whispered one word.
"London.""
Then she looked toward the open safe.
"There's something else.""
"What?""
"Gregory said Edward wasn't leaving alone.""
My phone vibrated.
A message appeared from an unfamiliar number.
*Your daughter is safer with us than she is with you.*
I felt my blood turn cold.
A photograph followed.
Maya was sitting in the back seat of a car.
Her eyes were closed.
May you like
And someone had written beneath the image:
*Tell Marcus to bring the original ledger.*
