Chapter 8: The Night My Father Died
Mr. Bennett didn't speak again until we reached his office.
He locked the door, closed the blinds, and placed a thick folder on the desk.
Madeline sat beside me.
Neither of us had taken off our coats.
"Before I tell you what happened," he began, "I need you to understand something. Thomas Whitmore's death was officially recorded as complications following emergency surgery.""
I nodded.
"That's what my mother told me.""
"That wasn't the whole story.""
He opened the folder.
Inside was a newspaper clipping.
The headline read:
*PROPERTY MAGNATE THOMAS WHITMORE DIES AT 58 FOLLOWING SURGERY.*
There was a photograph of my biological father standing beside a building with his company logo.
I stared at his face.
He had the same eyes as me.
The same shape of his jaw.
For the first time, I could see where my features had come from.
"Thomas was admitted to St. Mary's Hospital after suffering a sudden medical emergency," Mr. Bennett explained.
"Was he sick?""
"Not seriously. He had been experiencing chest discomfort, but his doctors believed he was stable.""
"What happened?""
Mr. Bennett turned the page.
"Someone accessed his medical file and changed the medication instructions.""
I stared at him.
"Changed them how?""
"The hospital investigation found irregularities in the medication administered during his final twenty-four hours. There was insufficient evidence at the time to establish deliberate wrongdoing.""
Madeline covered her mouth.
"Are you saying someone killed him?""
"I'm saying the circumstances were suspicious.""
I looked at the photograph again.
"Where does Daniel fit into this?""
Mr. Bennett removed another document.
It was a visitor log from the hospital.
The date was eighteen years earlier.
The entries showed several visitors.
One name appeared at 8:12 p.m.
*Daniel Carter.*
I felt the air leave my lungs.
"Daniel visited my father?""
Mr. Bennett nodded.
"Thomas had met Daniel twice before. He didn't approve of him.""
"Why?""
"Because Daniel had approached him about an investment opportunity. Thomas refused.""
I stared at the visitor log.
"How did Daniel know he was in the hospital?""
Mr. Bennett looked at me.
"Your mother told him.""
I felt sick.
"Why would she do that?""
"She believed Daniel might help. Thomas was frightened, and Eleanor thought having someone familiar nearby would reassure him.""
I closed my eyes.
My mother had trusted Daniel.
She had invited him into her family's most vulnerable moments.
And he had apparently used that access for something terrible.
"What happened during the visit?"" I asked.
Mr. Bennett opened another folder.
"This is a statement from a nurse who was working that night.""
He handed it to me.
The nurse's name was Helen Brooks.
Her statement was dated several weeks after Thomas died.
At approximately 8:30 p.m., I observed Mr. Daniel Carter entering Room 417. He remained with the patient for approximately twenty minutes. When he left, he was carrying a small envelope.
I looked up.
"An envelope?""
Mr. Bennett nodded.
"The nurse later reported that Thomas appeared distressed after the visit.""
"Did she say what they discussed?""
"No. But she remembered hearing Thomas say something.""
"What?""
Mr. Bennett turned another page.
"Keep my daughter away from him.""
My eyes filled.
I looked at Madeline.
She was staring at the table.
"Did my father know Daniel was dangerous?"" I whispered.
"Perhaps.""
"Then why didn't anyone tell me?""
Mr. Bennett sighed.
"Because you were eleven years old. Your mother was grieving. And Daniel had already convinced her that the situation was a misunderstanding.""
I shook my head.
"No. My mother wouldn't have protected him.""
"She didn't. Not after she discovered the financial records.""
He removed a final document.
It was a handwritten note.
The paper was yellowed.
The writing was shaky.
I recognized my father's name at the bottom.
Eleanor, if anything happens to me, do not let Daniel near the girls. He has asked questions about the company that he should never have known to ask.
I stared at the note.
"The girls?""
Mr. Bennett nodded.
"Thomas considered both you and Madeline his daughters.""
Madeline began crying quietly.
I reached for her hand.
For eighteen years, I had believed my father had died peacefully after an operation.
For eighteen years, I had never questioned the explanation.
Now I wondered whether the last man my father had warned my mother about had been sleeping beside me.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Who is this?""
A woman's voice replied.
"Mrs. Carter? My name is Helen Brooks.""
I stood.
"The nurse?""
"Yes.""
I looked at Mr. Bennett.
He immediately motioned for me to put the call on speaker.
"Helen, how did you get my number?""
"Your mother's attorney gave it to me. I've been trying to reach you for several days.""
"Why?""
There was a long pause.
"Because I saw your husband the night your father died.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Did you see him do something?""
"I saw him enter the medication room.""
Mr. Bennett closed his eyes.
Madeline gripped my hand.
Helen continued.
"I reported it to my supervisor, but Daniel claimed he had permission from the hospital administrator to retrieve a file.""
"Did he?""
"No.""
My voice trembled.
"Then why wasn't he stopped?""
"He was.""
"Then what happened?""
Helen's breathing became uneven.
"Your father died forty-seven minutes later.""
Nobody spoke.
I pressed the phone harder against my ear.
"Did you tell the police?""
"Yes. But the hospital couldn't find the original security footage. Someone had erased it.""
I looked at Mr. Bennett.
He nodded slowly.
"Do you have anything?"" I asked.
"I kept a copy of my written statement. And there's something else.""
"What?""
"Your father was conscious when Daniel left his room.""
My throat tightened.
"What did he say?""
Helen hesitated.
Then she whispered:
"He asked me to call his daughter.""
I closed my eyes.
"Which daughter?""
"He said, 'Tell Nia the key is inside the music box.''"
I opened my eyes.
"The music box?""
"Yes. He repeated it three times.""
I looked at Mr. Bennett.
He shook his head.
I had no memory of a music box.
Then Madeline suddenly spoke.
"I know what she's talking about.""
I turned toward her.
"What?""
Madeline wiped her cheeks.
"My mother had a music box. She kept it in her bedroom for years. It played the same song every night before she went to sleep.""
"Where is it now?""
Madeline looked at me.
"At her old house.""
Mr. Bennett stood.
"Then we need to find it.""
An hour later, we arrived at the house where my mother had lived before moving into the property Daniel and I now occupied.
It was a modest two-story home with faded blue shutters and a small garden.
Madeline had inherited it after my mother's death, but she had never moved in.
The house had been locked for years.
She used an old key from her handbag.
The door opened with a long creak.
Dust covered the furniture.
The curtains were still drawn.
And on the mantelpiece stood a framed photograph of my mother, Thomas, and two little girls.
I approached it slowly.
One girl was holding a stuffed rabbit.
The other was holding a music box.
Madeline pointed.
"That's it.""
The music box sat on a shelf in the upstairs bedroom.
It was made of dark cherry wood, with a tiny brass ballerina beneath a glass dome.
I remembered it suddenly.
My mother used to wind it before bedtime.
I had always believed it was simply an old family decoration.
Madeline lifted it carefully.
"How do we open it?""
I examined the underside.
There was a small metal latch.
When I pressed it, the lid opened.
Inside was a faded photograph, a folded piece of paper, and a tiny brass key.
I picked up the key.
A number was engraved on it.
*417.*
The same number as my father's hospital room.
I unfolded the paper.
It contained six words.
The truth is in the original file.
Mr. Bennett leaned closer.
"Original file of what?""
Before I could answer, something fell from the music box.
A small photograph.
It showed Daniel standing outside the hospital room.
But he wasn't alone.
A second man stood beside him.
A man I recognized from the business records.
Richard Cole.
My mother's attorney.
I stared at the photograph.
"Why was Richard with Daniel?""
Madeline turned it over.
There was a date written on the back.
The night my father died.
Beneath the date was another sentence.
One of them changed the medication.
I felt my knees weaken.
My mother's attorney had been there.
The man who had been helping us uncover the truth might have been involved in the very crime we were investigating.
Then my phone rang.
It was Richard.
I answered.
"Nia, where are you?""
"At my mother's old house.""
His voice became sharp.
"You need to leave immediately.""
"Why?""
"Because Daniel knows about the music box.""
I looked at the open box.
"How?""
Richard didn't answer.
Then he whispered:
"Because I just found out he has the original hospital file.""
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And before I could ask another question, I heard a crash downstairs.
Someone had just broken into the house.
