Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH|
Rachel Palmer called me at 3:20 p.m.
I almost let it go to voicemail.
Then I remembered the message.
I answered.
“What do you want?”
Her voice was smooth.
“Mara, I think we should talk.”
“About what?”
“Grant.”
I looked at Eli, who was drawing a crooked picture of our family on a hospital activity table.
“I don't think there's anything you and I need to discuss.”
“That's exactly the problem. You're making assumptions.”
“Which assumptions?”
“That Grant and I are involved.”
I said nothing.
Rachel sighed.
“He's been helping Sophie because she needs surgery. You know how difficult things have been for me.”
“I know you received three units of emergency O-negative blood.”
“They were reserved for a child who needed them.”
“They were reserved for emergencies.”
“Grant had authority to move them.”
“Authority doesn't mean permission to endanger other patients.”
Rachel's voice sharpened.
“Sophie could have died.”
“So could my son.”
A pause followed.
Then Rachel said, “I didn't know Eli was in an accident.”
“I believe you.”
“Then why are you attacking me?”
“I'm not attacking you. I'm asking you to stop pretending your daughter's medical care required my son to lose access to emergency blood.”
Rachel became quiet.
I heard a door close on her end.
“Grant told me you were always dramatic.”
I looked at the hospital window.
“He also told me he was working late when he was taking you to dinner.”
Rachel inhaled.
“That's not fair.”
“Neither was what happened last night.”
She lowered her voice.
“Listen, Mara. Grant and I have known each other since college. He was there when Sophie was diagnosed. He helped us when nobody else would.”
“I'm glad Sophie received help.”
“Then leave it alone.”
I almost laughed.
“You called me.”
“I called because I don't want this becoming ugly.”
“It's already ugly, Rachel. My five-year-old son asked me whether we could stop waiting for his father.”
Silence.
For the first time, Rachel sounded uncertain.
“I didn't know.”
“You didn't ask.”
I ended the call.
Holly was waiting outside the room when I stepped into the corridor.
“Did she admit anything?”
“She admitted Grant has been helping Sophie.”
“Financially?”
“Medically. Apparently, emotionally too.”
Holly handed me a folder.
“I found something in the company records.”
“What?”
“Whitmore Heart Center has been billing a private foundation for services connected to Sophie.”
I frowned.
“What foundation?”
“Harbor Children's Promise.”
I recognized the name.
Grant had mentioned it several times. He said it funded medical access for children whose families couldn't afford specialized care.
“Isn't that legitimate?”
“The foundation is registered. But its financial statements don't match the payments.”
Holly opened the folder.
“Over the last three years, more than four million dollars have passed through accounts controlled by Whitmore Medical Holdings. Some payments were listed as research grants. Others were recorded as emergency patient support.”
“Where did the money go?”
“That's what we're trying to establish.”
I studied the records.
One payment appeared every quarter.
Another had been made the week before Sophie's birthday.
Then I saw a name beside the largest transfer.
Rachel Palmer.
I looked up.
“She's receiving money from the foundation?”
“Possibly. We need bank records to confirm it.”
My stomach tightened.
I thought about the blood transfer.
The birthday party.
The years of excuses.
“Could Grant have been using the foundation to pay for her life?”
Holly closed the folder.
“It's possible.”
My phone vibrated again.
This time it was Grant.
We need to talk. Come home tonight.
I stared at the message.
Then I typed:
I'm not coming home.
His reply appeared almost immediately.
Don't make decisions while you're emotional.
I looked at Holly.
She raised an eyebrow.
I deleted the message.
May you like
Then I turned off my phone.
For the first time since I married Grant Whitmore, I was not waiting for him to decide what happened next.
