Chapter 14: The Nurse Who Remembered Everything
We found Patricia Wells at a small retirement community outside the city.
Daniel had contacted the hospital's records department, which confirmed that Patricia had worked on the oncology ward during the final months of my mother's life. With the appropriate arrangements, she agreed to meet us and discuss what she remembered.
My father drove.
I sat beside him, holding the photograph of my mother that Vanessa had thrown into the trash. I had cleaned the glass, but a faint stain remained along one corner.
Neither of us spoke until we reached the entrance.
“Emily,” Dad said, turning off the engine, “whatever we hear today, I need you to know that your mother loved you more than anything.””
I looked at him.
“I know.””
“And if someone did something to hurt her, I will do everything I can to make sure the truth comes out.””
I studied his face.
This time, he didn't ask me to promise that everything would be fine. He didn't tell me to stop asking questions.
He simply waited.
I nodded.
“Then let's go.””
Patricia was waiting in a small sitting room with two cups of tea on the table. She was in her seventies, with silver hair and a walking cane resting beside her chair.
When she saw me, her eyes filled with tears.
“Eleanor's little girl.””
I sat down opposite her.
“You remember my mother?””
“Of course I do.””
She reached across the table and took my hand.
“Your mother was one of the bravest women I ever met.””
My father swallowed hard.
“Patricia, Daniel told us you reported a medication discrepancy on the night Eleanor was admitted.””
Patricia nodded slowly.
“I did.””
“What happened?””
She glanced toward the door before answering.
“Your mother was receiving medication according to a prescribed schedule. One evening, she told me she believed someone had given her a dose she hadn't been expecting.””
My heart began to pound.
“Did she know who?””
“No. She was tired, and she was in considerable pain. But she was very clear that she wanted the medication checked.””
Patricia folded her hands.
“I reviewed the administration chart and found an inconsistency between the recorded dose and the physician's order. I reported it to the attending physician and filed an incident report.””
“Was anyone disciplined?”” Daniel asked.
“Not immediately. The hospital started an internal review, but the investigation stalled when the records could not establish who had handled the medication.””
My father leaned forward.
“Was Vanessa at the hospital that evening?””
Patricia considered the question.
“I remember a woman visiting Eleanor. I believe she was introduced as a family friend.””
Vanessa.
I could feel the name in the room even though nobody had spoken it.
“Did you see her near my mother's medication?”” I asked.
Patricia shook her head.
“I cannot say that I did. I won't accuse someone based on a memory from eleven years ago.””
Her honesty made me trust her more.
“But I do remember something else,” she continued.
She opened a small notebook and removed a folded piece of paper.
“After Eleanor died, I received a call from someone asking about the incident report. The caller claimed to represent the family and wanted to know whether the discrepancy had been resolved.””
“Who called?”” Daniel asked.
“I didn't recognize the voice.””
Patricia handed him the paper.
“I wrote down the number because the caller became unusually insistent. When I told them that the matter was being handled through hospital administration, they asked whether the report could be amended.””
My father stared at her.
“Amended?””
Patricia nodded.
“I refused. A medical record is not something you change to make a family member comfortable.””
Daniel examined the note.
“We'll provide this to the authorities. Do you remember anything else about the call?””
Patricia hesitated.
“The caller said, ‘Thomas was promised this would be taken care of.’”
My father went pale.
I gripped the edge of my chair.
“Thomas Reed?””
“I didn't know his full name then. But when I saw his photograph in a local business article several years later, I recognized him as the man who had visited Eleanor's room.””
The room fell silent.
Daniel wrote down every detail.
“Patricia, did you ever see him near the medication station?””
She shook her head.
“No. I saw him in the corridor outside Eleanor's room. He asked me whether her condition was improving. I told him I couldn't discuss her medical information with him.””
“What did he say?””
“He told me that the family was very worried and that I should make sure she received everything she needed.””
Patricia looked at my father.
“At the time, it sounded like a concerned visitor. I had no reason to think otherwise.””
My father stared at his hands.
“I brought him into our lives.””
Patricia squeezed his arm.
“You trusted someone. That isn't the same as knowing what they might do.””
I wanted to believe her.
But I knew that trust could become an excuse for looking away.
Before we left, Patricia gave Daniel permission to contact her again and provide her records to investigators. She agreed to make a formal statement if requested.
Outside, the afternoon sun shone through the trees.
I stood beside the car, trying to organize what we'd learned.
We had evidence of missing money, an attempted property sale, suspicious emails, and an unresolved medication discrepancy.
But we still didn't know whether Thomas had caused the medical problem, whether Vanessa had known anything about it, or whether the events were connected beyond their timing.
“Do you think Thomas hurt Mom?”” I asked.
My father looked at me for a long time.
“I think we have reasons to investigate him. I don't think we should claim something we cannot prove.””
I nodded.
It wasn't the answer I wanted.
But it was the honest one.
When we returned home, Daniel was waiting in the study with an update from the authorities.
“They've identified the number Patricia recorded,” he said.
“It's associated with a company that Thomas Reed controlled at the time.””
My father closed his eyes.
“Of course it is.””
“It's important corroborating evidence, but it doesn't establish who made the call or who was responsible for the medication discrepancy. The investigators will need to determine that.””
I sat at the desk.
“What's next?””
“An examination of the flash drive, the original deed, the bank records, and the hospital documentation. The investigators are also seeking to interview Thomas.””
My father looked toward the window.
“Will he cooperate?””
Daniel gave a grim smile.
“I wouldn't count on it.””
He was right.
Thomas refused to attend a voluntary interview that afternoon. Through his attorney, he denied wrongdoing and claimed that the documents were being misinterpreted.
Then, at six forty-two, my father received a call.
He listened without speaking.
His face grew pale.
When he finally ended the call, Daniel stood.
“What happened?””
“Thomas has filed a legal claim against the trust.””
I stared at him.
“What?””
“He says the original trust was established using funds that belonged to his company. He wants the house placed under court supervision while the ownership dispute is reviewed.””
Daniel swore quietly.
“That's an aggressive move, but the claim will have to be assessed on its merits. We have the original deed and records that may contradict his account.””
My father sank into his chair.
“He's trying to take the house again.””
Daniel nodded.
“We'll respond through the legal process.””
My phone vibrated.
An email had arrived from an address I didn't recognize.
The subject line read:
*A MESSAGE FROM THOMAS REED.*
I showed Daniel.
He told me not to open any attachments, but the email itself contained only a short message.
Emily, your mother made many mistakes before she died. If you want to know the truth about the final week of her life, meet me tomorrow at noon. Come alone.
My father took the phone from me.
“No.””
Daniel read the message.
“You will not meet him alone. We'll preserve this and notify the investigators.””
I stared at the screen.
Thomas wanted me to come alone.
The same man who had been connected to the missing money, the attempted sale, and the suspicious hospital records.
I knew I shouldn't trust him.
But there was one thing I needed to understand.
Why had he waited until now to contact me directly?
Then another email arrived.
This one contained a single attachment.
Daniel stopped me from opening it until the forensic specialist had checked it.
An hour later, he called us into the study.
The attachment was a scanned photograph.
It showed my mother sitting in her hospital bed, smiling weakly at the camera.
Standing beside her was Thomas.
And behind him, partly visible through the open doorway, was a woman holding a medication tray.
Daniel enlarged the image.
My father leaned forward.
I stared at the woman.
It was Vanessa.
But the date printed on the photograph was not the date she had claimed to visit my mother.
It was the night before my mother was hospitalized.
May you like
And on the back of the scanned image, Thomas had written a message:
Ask Vanessa what she carried into Eleanor's room that night.
