Chapter 12: The Doctor Who Signed the Wrong Prescription
Detective Brooks read the name aloud.
"Dr. Samuel Whitaker.""
I recognized it immediately.
He had been Emily's oncologist during the final year of her life. He'd explained her treatment options, answered my endless questions, and once stayed late at the hospital because Sophie had fallen asleep in the waiting room and I didn't want to wake her.
I'd trusted him.
He had looked me in the eye and told me that Emily's death was not something I could have prevented.
Now his name appeared on a receipt connected to a private investigator hired to locate my wife's missing medical records.
Michael sat motionless.
"Do you know why Dr. Whitaker would hire someone to find Emily's records?"" I asked.
"No.""
"Did you ever speak to him after Emily died?""
"Once. He called to offer condolences.""
"And?""
"He asked whether I'd kept any copies of her prescriptions. I told him I hadn't.""
Detective Brooks wrote that down.
"Did he ask anything else?""
Michael hesitated.
"He asked whether Emily had said anything about a medication error.""
My stomach dropped.
"What did you tell him?""
"That she had complained about her pills looking different. I thought the hospital already knew.""
"And what did he say?""
"He told me patients sometimes became confused near the end of their lives. He said I shouldn't let grief turn an ordinary complication into a suspicion.""
I looked at the receipt again.
"Did he know you had the photograph?""
"No.""
"Did you ever give him the original?""
"No. I gave it to the man who paid me.""
Detective Brooks raised her eyes.
"Then we have a possible connection between the medical contractor, Dr. Whitaker, and the missing records. We'll need to verify all of it.""
She collected the receipt and asked Michael to remain available for further questioning.
I stood by the station window, watching cars pass beneath the gray afternoon sky.
Three years earlier, I'd stood outside the same hospital room where Emily had died. Dr. Whitaker had come out, removed his glasses, and told me there was nothing more they could do.
I'd fallen against the wall.
Michael had caught me.
Now I wondered whether the doctor had known more than he'd admitted.
But I reminded myself that a suspicious payment didn't prove he had caused Emily's death. A private investigator might have been hired for any number of reasons.
I needed facts.
Detective Brooks returned with an update.
"We've contacted the hospital and requested the original prescription records. The pharmacy is also being asked to preserve its dispensing logs.""
"Can we speak to Dr. Whitaker?""
"We can request an interview. But I don't want you contacting him yourself.""
"Why?""
"Because if someone has been removing or altering records, we don't want to alert them before we know what evidence remains.""
I understood.
Still, the thought of waiting made me restless.
My phone rang.
The caller ID showed a number from the hospital.
I answered.
"Hello?""
A woman's voice came through.
"Mr. Carter? My name is Patricia Ellis. I worked as a nurse on your wife's ward three years ago.""
I gripped the phone.
"How did you get my number?""
"Your brother gave it to me. He said you were looking into what happened to Emily.""
I looked at Detective Brooks and put the call on speaker.
"Do you know something about my wife's death?"" I asked.
Patricia took a shaky breath.
"I should have spoken up at the time. I was afraid of losing my job.""
"What happened?""
"I remember the night Emily died. She refused her medication because the label didn't match what she'd been given earlier. I went to check the prescription, and the record in the system had already been changed.""
Detective Brooks immediately began taking notes.
"Who changed it?"" I asked.
"I don't know. My login was used to approve the dispensing record, but I hadn't entered it.""
"Did you report that?""
"Yes. I told my supervisor. He said the system had probably duplicated an entry.""
"Did you believe him?""
There was a long pause.
"No.""
My heart hammered.
"Why not?""
"Because I saw Andrew Price leaving the medication room shortly before Emily's condition worsened. He wasn't assigned to her ward that evening.""
Detective Brooks leaned closer to the phone.
"Ms. Ellis, are you willing to give a formal statement?""
"Yes. But I need to tell you something else first.""
"What?""
"Dr. Whitaker came to see me the following morning. He asked whether I'd noticed anything unusual about Emily's medication. When I told him what I'd seen, he asked me to keep the matter confidential until the hospital completed its review.""
"Did he threaten you?""
"No. He said the hospital was under financial pressure and that a premature accusation could destroy innocent people's careers.""
I closed my eyes.
Another explanation that sounded reasonable until the surrounding details made it frightening.
"Do you still have any records?"" Detective Brooks asked.
"I kept a copy of the original dispensing label. I was supposed to return it during the investigation, but I made a photocopy before handing it over.""
"Where is it now?""
"In a safe at my sister's house. I've kept it all these years because I couldn't convince myself the matter was settled.""
Detective Brooks asked Patricia for her location and arranged a formal interview.
When the call ended, I sat down heavily.
For the first time, someone other than my family had confirmed that the medication records might have been altered.
It wasn't proof that Emily had been murdered.
But it was enough to justify a serious investigation.
I looked at Michael.
"Why didn't you find Patricia earlier?""
"I didn't know she had kept anything.""
"Did you know she had reported the discrepancy?""
He shook his head.
"No.""
Detective Brooks gathered her notes.
"We'll follow up on the original label. In the meantime, I recommend that you avoid discussing the evidence with anyone who might be involved.""
I nodded.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph of Vanessa sitting in a parked car outside the Grand Magnolia Hotel.
She wasn't alone.
Andrew Price sat in the driver's seat.
The photograph had been taken that morning, less than an hour before my wedding.
Below it was a message.
You think Vanessa planned this by herself? Ask her who paid for the honeymoon.
I showed Detective Brooks.
She enlarged the image.
The vehicle's license plate was visible.
An officer began checking it.
Then another message appeared.
Your brother took the money. Your doctor changed the prescription. But the person who ordered everything is still walking around free.
I stared at the screen.
"Who sent this?"" I whispered.
Detective Brooks didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she studied the photograph.
"Mr. Carter, look at the passenger-side window.""
I leaned closer.
A reflection was visible in the glass.
Someone stood behind the photographer, partially obscured by the hotel entrance.
The figure wore a dark suit and held a phone to one ear.
I recognized the posture before I recognized the face.
The same man had stood beside me at my wedding rehearsal.
He had helped arrange the seating chart, reviewed the honeymoon schedule, and told me he was proud to see me happy again.
My older brother.
Michael.
I turned toward him.
He was already staring at the photograph.
His face had gone ashen.
"Daniel," he whispered, "I can explain.""
I couldn't move.
"Then explain why you were standing behind the person who took this picture.""
Michael swallowed hard.
"Because I was trying to stop Vanessa from leaving with something.""
"What something?""
He looked at Detective Brooks, then back at me.
"The original insurance policy.""
I stared at him.
"What are you talking about?""
Michael's voice dropped to a whisper.
"The five-million-dollar policy Vanessa showed you wasn't the only one.""
He paused.
"There was another policy. One that named Sophie as the beneficiary.""
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
"Who owned that policy?""
Michael's eyes filled with tears.
"You did, Daniel. But the application was filed after Emily died.""
He looked down at his hands.
"And the person who signed as the witness wasn't Vanessa.""
May you like
He raised his eyes to mine.
"It was me.""
