CHAPTER 11 – THE DOCTOR
We reached the hospital with police in under ten minutes.
Daniel's former evaluation room was empty.
So was Price's office.
Then a nurse reported seeing a man in a surgical mask entering the records department.
Police sealed the building.
Price was trapped inside.
Ortiz told us to stay downstairs.
Daniel ignored her.
“Danny.”
“Records.”
“What?”
“He wants records.”
I understood.
Price wasn't there for Daniel.
He was there to destroy evidence.
Smoke alarms suddenly screamed.
People poured into the hallways.
“Fire!”
Smoke rolled from the records wing.
Price had started a fire.
Sprinklers activated.
Police rushed upstairs.
Daniel stared at the ceiling.
Then pointed.
“Basement exit.”
“How do you know?”
“Dad showed me.”
We told Ortiz.
Officers surrounded the basement.
Five minutes later, Price appeared wearing stolen maintenance clothes.
He saw police.
Turned.
Ran.
He made it thirty feet.
Then officers tackled him.
His backpack contained medical records.
Prescription logs.
And a loaded syringe.
Ortiz later told me what was inside it.
Enough sedative to make an adult unconscious.
Price claimed it was for protection.
Nobody believed him.
But there was something else.
A handwritten list.
Dad's name was on it.
So were eleven other patients.
All dead.
Every death had occurred during a shift involving either Price or Marcus.
This wasn't one murder.
It might have been twelve.
Mom's case suddenly became part of something much bigger.
Yet Daniel didn't care about the headlines.
Or the investigation.
Or the reporters outside.
He wanted one thing.
His house.
“I want my room.”
I hesitated.
The house was evidence.
And emotionally, it was a nightmare.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
So when police finally released the property, I took him home.
Daniel stood in the kitchen.
He looked beneath the table.
The same place I'd found him.
Then he picked up the chair Marcus had used to block his escape.
He carried it outside.
And threw it into the trash.
No speech.
No dramatic moment.
Just one chair.
Gone.
Then Daniel looked at me.
“I want locks changed.”
I smiled.
“Okay.”
“And cameras.”
“Okay.”
“And Mom never comes back.”
I stopped smiling.
“Never.”
He nodded.
Then his tablet beeped.
A new email had arrived.
Sender unknown.
May you like
Subject:
YOUR FATHER LIED TOO.
