Chapter 5 - THE NIGHT CLAIRE DIED|
I found Grace sitting on the back steps after midnight.
The garden lights illuminated her face, but she seemed miles away.
I sat beside her.
"Tell me what Vanessa said."
Grace clasped her hands.
"She said I should stop pretending to be part of this family."
"That's not a crime."
"She also said your wife didn't die the way everybody believes."
My entire body went still.
"What exactly did she say?"
Grace shook her head.
"She didn't explain. She just mentioned the hospital."
I stared into the darkness.
For three years, I had accepted the official medical report.
Claire had suffered severe complications after childbirth. The doctors had attempted emergency treatment, but she had lost too much blood.
There had been an investigation.
The hospital had declared the death unavoidable.
I had never questioned it.
Because questioning it meant admitting that perhaps something could have been done.
"Why were you at St. Catherine's that night?" I asked.
Grace closed her eyes.
"I was a nursing assistant."
I turned toward her.
"What?"
"I worked there before I became a nanny."
"You never told me."
"You never asked."
She looked down at her hands.
"I wasn't assigned to Claire's room. I was helping in the maternity recovery wing. But I remember that night."
My heart began pounding.
"What do you remember?"
Grace took a shaky breath.
"I heard a woman arguing with a doctor near the medication station."
"Who?"
"I couldn't see her face."
"Then how do you know it was important?"
"Because the doctor said something about a medication order being changed."
I stood.
"Why didn't you report it?"
"I tried."
She looked up.
"The next morning, my supervisor told me to forget what I had heard. Two days later, my employment record was changed. I was accused of accessing a patient's file without permission."
My jaw tightened.
"Who accused you?"
Grace hesitated.
"Dr. Richard Bell."
I recognized the name.
He had been the attending physician during Claire's delivery.
"What happened afterward?"
"I lost my job. I couldn't find another hospital willing to hire me. Eventually, I moved to Miami and started working in private childcare."
I looked at her.
"Why didn't you tell me when you came here?"
"Because I didn't know who you were at first."
"And afterward?"
"Because I was afraid."
"Of me?"
"Of what would happen if the wrong people discovered I remembered that night."
Before I could respond, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A photograph appeared on the screen.
It showed Grace standing outside St. Catherine's Hospital three years earlier.
Below it was a message.
She isn't the only one who remembers what happened to your wife.
Another message followed.
If you want to know who killed Claire, stop trusting your own mother.
I looked toward the mansion.
A light was still burning in Margaret's bedroom.
Then I noticed something else.
Grace had gone completely white.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
She pointed at the photograph.
"That's not possible."
"Why?"
May you like
Her voice broke.
"Because I never knew anybody took that picture."
