Chapter 4 – The Doctor Who Signed the Death Certificate
Dr. Malcolm Reed had treated my father for twelve years.
He was the man who called me the night Dad died.
He was the man who hugged me in the hospital hallway.
He was the man who told me there had been nothing anyone could have done.
And he was the man who signed the death certificate.
Detective Hale found him before noon.
Or rather, he found where Malcolm Reed had been.
His apartment was empty.
His clinic was closed.
His phone was disconnected.
And his passport had been used at JFK Airport six hours earlier.
Destination unknown.
“He ran.”
Rachel stared at the detective.
Hale nodded.
“That appears to be the case.”
I felt sick.
Thomas stood by the window.
“Daniel suspected his death might be arranged.”
I turned toward him.
“You knew that?”
“I knew he was frightened.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
“You should have told me.”
“You were pregnant.”
“Stop.”
Thomas fell silent.
“Everybody keeps deciding what I can handle.”
My voice shook.
“My husband did it.”
“Margaret did it.”
“My father did it.”
“And now you’re doing it.”
Thomas lowered his eyes.
“You’re right.”
That surprised me.
He looked back at me.
“I’m sorry.”
I nodded once.
“Then tell me everything.”
He did.
My father had discovered that Blackwood Holdings was moving millions through shell corporations.
Several companies were registered using my electronic signature.
If authorities discovered the fraud, I could appear responsible.
“That was the plan?”
Thomas nodded.
“To make me the fall guy?”
“Yes.”
“Why marry me?”
Thomas hesitated.
“That question may have an ugly answer.”
“Most answers do lately.”
“Your father’s company controlled access to four major shipping terminals.”
I understood immediately.
“They needed Whitmore Logistics.”
“Yes.”
“So Adrian married me for my company.”
Thomas did not answer.
He didn’t need to.
Rachel squeezed my hand.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Hale motioned for silence.
“Answer it.”
I did.
“Hello?”
For several seconds, there was only breathing.
Then Margaret’s voice.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
I looked at Hale.
He activated a recorder.
“What?”
“Your father’s original ledger.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You should.”
“I don’t.”
Silence.
Then Margaret laughed softly.
“Daniel always underestimated you.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“You threatened my father.”
“He threatened himself.”
“What does that mean?”
“You think your father was innocent?”
She paused.
“You have no idea who Daniel Whitmore really was.”
“Then tell me.”
“No.”
Her voice became colder.
“Bring me the ledger.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Then find it.”
“Why would I help you?”
“Because your husband isn’t the only person who knows how to reach your daughter.”
My blood turned to ice.
Hale immediately began signaling to another officer.
I stood.
“If you ever come near Emma—”
“Twenty-four hours, Claire.”
The call ended.
Rachel looked terrified.
Hale was already moving.
“We’re relocating you.”
I barely heard him.
Because another phone had started ringing.
Thomas’s.
He answered.
Listened.
Then his face changed.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Someone just broke into your father’s old house.”
My heart stopped.
Thomas continued listening.
Then he whispered, “Jesus.”
“What?”
He lowered the phone.
“The intruder didn’t steal anything.”
I waited.
Thomas looked directly at me.
“He left something behind.”
May you like
“What?”
“A photograph of Emma sleeping in this hospital.”
