Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN IN THE HOSPITAL PHOTOGRAPH|
I ordered my security team to investigate the photograph.
Within an hour, my head of security, Marco, had identified the location.
It was the west entrance of St. Catherine's Hospital.
The image had been taken at 4:22 a.m. on the morning Claire died.
Five minutes after the time listed on the official death certificate.
That detail bothered me more than anything else.
"Who sent it?" I asked.
Marco shook his head.
"The number was routed through three temporary accounts."
"Find the original source."
"We're trying."
I turned toward Grace.
She was standing near the office door, pale and exhausted.
"You need to tell me everything you remember."
She nodded.
"I was taking supplies to the maternity ward. I heard a woman say the medication had been switched. The doctor told her nobody could know."
"Did you recognize the woman's voice?"
"No."
"Could it have been a nurse?"
"I don't think so."
I waited.
Grace looked at me.
"I think it was your mother."
The room became silent.
Marco glanced toward me.
I dismissed him.
When we were alone, I asked Grace to repeat herself.
"I can't be certain."
"Then why say it?"
"Because I heard that same voice again yesterday."
"Where?"
"In your mother's sitting room."
I stared at her.
"She was discussing something with Vanessa. I was bringing tea. Your mother said, 'The hospital should have settled this years ago.'"
My stomach tightened.
"Why didn't you tell me immediately?"
"I didn't want to accuse somebody without proof."
I rubbed my forehead.
For three years, Margaret had comforted me after Claire died.
She had helped organize the funeral, arranged the memorial, and stayed beside Noah when I couldn't function.
She was my mother.
But she had also been the person who insisted I accept the hospital's conclusions without asking further questions.
I walked upstairs.
Margaret was reading in her bedroom.
"Did you know Grace worked at St. Catherine's?"
She looked up.
"Many people have worked at hospitals."
"She was there the night Claire died."
Margaret closed her book.
"Why are you discussing this now?"
"Because she remembers something."
My mother stood.
"Grief can distort memories."
"Did you visit the hospital that night?"
"Of course I did."
"At what time?"
Her expression hardened.
"I don't remember."
I stepped closer.
"Did you speak to Dr. Bell?"
She looked directly into my eyes.
"Your wife is dead, Luca. Digging through old memories won't bring her back."
"That's not an answer."
Margaret's voice became cold.
"Be careful about allowing a desperate employee to turn you against your own family."
I stared at her.
Then I noticed the small envelope on her dressing table.
It bore the St. Catherine's Hospital logo.
She followed my gaze.
For the first time in my life, my mother looked frightened.
I reached for the envelope.
She grabbed my wrist.
"Don't."
Inside was a document dated three days before Claire died.
It contained a handwritten instruction concerning Claire's medication.
May you like
At the bottom was a signature.
Margaret Cole.
