Chapter 3: The Men Who Put Me Behind Bars
Robert ended the call.
For several seconds, he stood motionless beside the cemetery bench.
I picked up his fallen briefcase.
"Robert, what did she say?""
He looked at me.
"Collins and Whitmore are at my office.""
"Why?""
"Because they know your father left something behind.""
I glanced at the grave.
"What?""
Robert checked his watch.
"I don't know exactly. Your father never told me where he kept the original recording or the medication records.""
I frowned.
"But you have the recording.""
"A copy. He made several, and he didn't trust any of us with the location of the original.""
I looked at the photographs.
"Then we need to go to the police.""
Robert shook his head.
"Not yet.""
"Why not? They're corrupt.""
"Which is exactly why we need evidence they cannot dismiss.""
He picked up the briefcase.
"Come with me. There's someone I want you to meet.""
We left the cemetery through the rear entrance.
Robert drove an old black Mercedes, and I sat in the passenger seat with my father's letter folded inside my jacket.
For the first ten minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked the question that had been bothering me.
"Did my father ever visit me in prison?""
Robert tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"Yes.""
I turned toward him.
"What?""
"Twice.""
I felt something break inside my chest.
"Why didn't I see him?""
"Vanessa told him the prison had rejected his visitation requests. She claimed you didn't want to see him.""
I stared at him.
"That's not true.""
"I know.""
"Did he believe her?""
Robert looked at me.
"Not after the second visit.""
I swallowed.
"Then what happened?""
"He came to my house that night. He was furious. He said Vanessa had lied to him about your letters, your calls, everything.""
I pressed my forehead against the window.
For three years, I had imagined my father sitting at home, choosing not to see me.
Instead, he had been trying to reach me.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
Robert's voice softened.
"Because I didn't know where you were being transferred. By the time I found out, your father was already sick.""
I closed my eyes.
When I opened them, we were approaching a small office building in Marietta.
Robert parked behind it.
"Who are we meeting?""
"Dr. Helen Parker. She was your father's physician for years.""
I looked at him.
"Was she involved in his treatment?""
"Yes. And she called me the morning after he died.""
We entered through a side door.
A woman in her late fifties was waiting inside a small conference room. She had short silver hair, a white blouse, and a stack of medical folders spread across the table.
The moment she saw me, she stood.
"Ethan?""
"Yes.""
She walked toward me.
"I'm Helen Parker. Your father spoke about you constantly.""
I shook her hand.
"Robert said you might know something about his death.""
Helen exchanged a glance with Robert.
Then she closed the conference room door.
"Your father had been experiencing chest discomfort for several weeks. I recommended a cardiac evaluation, but he refused to go to the hospital.""
"Why?""
"He said he had discovered something dangerous and wanted to resolve it first.""
I remembered the recording.
Vanessa's voice.
You should have let your son take the blame.
Helen opened a folder.
"On the night he died, your father called my emergency number. He said he believed someone had tampered with his medication.""
My mouth went dry.
"Did you examine it?""
"Not immediately. Vanessa told the responding paramedics that your father had accidentally taken an extra dose of his prescribed medication.""
"Was that true?""
Helen shook her head.
"His prescription bottle was missing when I arrived.""
Robert leaned forward.
"Did you report it?""
"Yes. But the initial medical examiner's report classified the death as natural.""
"Why?""
"Because there was no medication bottle available for testing, and the family declined a more extensive examination.""
I looked at her.
"Vanessa declined?""
Helen nodded.
"She signed the paperwork.""
I gripped the edge of the table.
"Can the case be reopened?""
"Potentially. But we need evidence.""
Helen reached into her folder and removed a small plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a prescription bottle.
The label had my father's name on it.
I stared.
"Where did you get that?""
"Your father gave it to me three days before he died. He asked me to keep it somewhere safe.""
Robert leaned closer.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I received a threatening phone call the day after his funeral.""
Helen's voice trembled.
"Someone told me that if I kept interfering, I'd lose my medical license.""
I looked at the bottle.
"Did you test it?""
She nodded.
"Your father's medication was supposed to contain a specific dosage of his prescribed heart medication. The laboratory found traces of a different substance in the remaining tablets.""
"What substance?""
Helen looked down.
"I won't speculate about the source or who placed it there. But the results were inconsistent with his prescription.""
My stomach twisted.
My father had been afraid.
He had known someone was coming after him.
And he had died before he could tell me everything.
Robert stood.
"We need to get this to an independent laboratory and an attorney.""
Helen nodded.
"There's something else Ethan should know.""
She turned to me.
"Your father left a message for you in my office.""
I stared.
"Another letter?""
"No. A key.""
She opened a small drawer and removed a brass key attached to a paper tag.
On it, my father had written two words.
*STORAGE 214.*
Robert looked at it.
"Where is that?""
"At the old storage facility near his company.""
I recognized the location immediately.
It was the building where Dad used to keep construction equipment, business records, and tools.
Helen placed the key in my palm.
"He told me that if you ever came home, I was to give this to you.""
I turned it over.
There was a tiny strip of paper wrapped around the key.
I carefully unfolded it.
In my father's handwriting were six words.
Trust nobody who was in court.
I looked at Robert.
"Does that include you?""
His expression changed.
For the first time since we met, he seemed hurt.
"Ethan, your father trusted me with his life.""
"Then why didn't you tell me about the visits? Why did you let me believe he abandoned me?""
Robert lowered his eyes.
"I was afraid Vanessa had someone watching me. I thought if I stayed away from you, I could protect what your father was trying to preserve.""
Before I could answer, Helen's office phone rang.
She picked it up.
"Hello?""
Her face went pale.
"What do you mean?""
She listened for several seconds.
Then she slowly lowered the receiver.
"Someone just entered the building.""
Robert moved toward the window.
"Who?""
Helen looked at me.
"Two men. One of them is Detective Collins.""
I felt my hands go cold.
Robert grabbed the key from the table and pushed it back into my palm.
"There's a rear exit. Go.""
"What about you?""
"Go, Ethan!""
Helen opened a cabinet and pulled out a gray folder.
"Take this. It contains your father's medical records and the original laboratory report.""
I grabbed it.
Then the conference room door handle began turning.
Robert stepped between me and the door.
A familiar voice came from the hallway.
"Mr. Bennett, we know Ethan is in there.""
Collins.
The same man who had testified against me.
The same man who had watched me walk away in handcuffs.
Then another voice spoke.
Judge Whitmore.
"Open the door, Robert. We only want to talk.""
Robert looked at me.
His lips barely moved.
"Storage 214. Whatever happens, get there first.""
The door shook under a heavy knock.
And then Collins said something that made my blood run cold.
"Tell Ethan his father wasn't the only one who died with a secret.""
May you like
He paused.
"His mother left one, too.""
