Chapter 8: The Prescription Nobody Was Supposed to Find
I barely slept that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the photograph of my mother's medical report. I heard Daniel's voice telling me that I would learn why she'd tried to keep certain information buried.
At six the next morning, I was sitting at the kitchen table with the blue notebook, my mother's letter, and a cup of coffee that had gone cold.
Dad stood at the counter, staring at the untouched breakfast he'd prepared.
“I should have told you sooner,” he said.
I turned a page in the notebook.
“You should have told me seven years ago.””
He nodded.
“I know.””
“Why didn't you?””
“Because I was afraid that if I started questioning what happened to your mother, I'd discover I'd failed her in a way I couldn't fix.””
I looked at him.
“You already failed her by keeping secrets.””
His eyes lowered.
“I know that, too.””
I wanted to be angry enough to stop caring. It would have been easier if he were simply a coward or a liar.
But he was my father.
And I could see the shame written across his face.
“Tell me about the prescription bottle,” I said.
Dad sat opposite me.
“The night after your mother died, I went into the garage looking for a box of photographs. Daniel had left his car here earlier that evening. I noticed a small pharmacy bottle wedged behind the spare tire in the trunk.””
“Why was he still here?””
“He said he'd come back to collect some documents.””
“What was on the label?””
“I couldn't read it. The label had been partially torn off.””
“Did you take a picture?””
“No.””
“Did you call the police?””
He shook his head.
“Daniel returned before I could decide what to do. He said the bottle belonged to one of his clients and that he'd accidentally left it in the car.””
“And you believed him?””
“I wanted to believe him.””
I pushed my coffee away.
“That's not the same thing.””
“No,” he whispered.
“It isn't.””
At eight, I met Dana Wells at her law office downtown.
She was a woman in her late fifties with silver-streaked hair, a sharp gaze, and the kind of quiet confidence that made people stop talking when she entered a room.
She studied the documents I'd brought, then examined the blue notebook page by page.
When she reached the entry about Daniel, her expression became grave.
“Your mother was remarkably thorough,” she said.
“She knew something was wrong.””
“Yes. And she was trying to preserve evidence.””
Dana placed the notebook on her desk.
“I need to be very clear about something. These entries raise serious questions, but they don't establish that anyone interfered with your mother's medical treatment. We need authenticated records, not assumptions.””
“I understand.””
“Good. We'll request the relevant trust records, the original transfer filing, and the documentation supporting the proposed sale. I'll also advise you on how to preserve the threatening messages.””
“Can you stop the closing?””
“I can seek emergency relief. I cannot promise a judge will grant it before the scheduled transaction without reviewing the evidence.””
She picked up the photograph of the contract.
“The discrepancy in the property identification is significant. So is the notary issue. But I need to know whether this signature is actually your father's.””
“It looks like his.””
“Then we'll arrange for it to be examined.””
She leaned back.
“Emily, did your mother ever tell you why she wanted the trust to remain under her control until you were twenty-five?””
I shook my head.
“She said she wanted me to have a secure home.””
Dana opened a locked cabinet and removed a thick file.
“Margaret came to me because she believed someone was attempting to gain access to assets she intended for you. She was concerned about the house, but also about a separate investment account.””
I stared at her.
“What investment account?””
“One established by your maternal grandfather. It was intended to provide for your education and future living expenses.””
“I've never heard of it.””
“Your mother arranged for the account to be held separately from the property trust. She believed that keeping the two assets distinct would protect you if one became subject to a dispute.””
I tried to process what she was saying.
“How much money is in it?””
“I don't have a current balance. The account administrator will need to confirm that.””
She opened the file and turned a page toward me.
A statement from seven years earlier showed a substantial balance.
The next page contained a notice of a transfer request.
The signature on it looked like mine.
But it couldn't have been.
I had been sixteen when the document was dated, and I had never seen the account.
“Someone used my name,” I whispered.
Dana examined the page.
“Possibly. We need the original and the bank's verification records before reaching a conclusion.””
“Who requested the transfer?””
She pointed to the line beneath the signature.
*Authorized Representative: Daniel Mercer.*
I felt sick.
Dana closed the file.
“Don't contact him. Don't sign anything he gives you. And don't let anyone remove the notebook or your mother's original papers from your possession without proper documentation.””
“What happens if the money is gone?””
“Then we'll investigate how it was transferred and whether the transfer was authorized.””
I left her office with copies of the documents and instructions to meet her again that afternoon.
On the sidewalk, my phone rang.
Jessica.
I almost ignored it.
Then I remembered her frightened expression the night before.
I answered.
“What's wrong?””
She was crying so hard that I could barely understand her.
“Emily, I need you to come home.””
“Why?””
“Mom's gone.””
I stopped walking.
“What do you mean, gone?””
“Her bedroom is empty. Her car is gone. Mark won't answer his phone.””
“Where's Dad?””
“He's here. He's looking through the office.””
I closed my eyes.
“Jessica, listen to me. Did you see anyone take anything from the house?””
There was a long pause.
Then she whispered, “I saw Mom carrying a black folder last night.””
“What was in it?””
“I don't know. But she was talking to Daniel on the phone. She said the transfer had to happen before you got to the lawyer.””
My stomach tightened.
“Did you hear anything else?””
Jessica took a shaky breath.
“Yes.””
“What?””
“She said, 'If Emily finds the original, she'll know who was really there when Margaret died.''”
I couldn't move.
“Jessica, are you sure?””
“I swear.””
May you like
Then she said something that made the street seem to tilt beneath my feet.
“Emily, I think Mom has the original document. And I think she knows what happened to your mother.””
