Chapter 2 - RACHEL WAKES
I don’t remember driving to St. Anne’s.
I remember red lights.
I remember gripping the steering wheel.
I remember Detective Morales following in the sedan behind me.
I remember hearing the doctor’s words over and over.
Respiratory arrest twice.
Medication she was never prescribed.
But I don’t remember the road.
When I entered the emergency department, a nurse immediately approached me.
“Mr. Parker?”
“Where’s my wife?”
“Come with me.”
We passed the main emergency bays and entered a quieter hallway.
The smell of disinfectant was so strong it coated the back of my throat.
Machines beeped behind curtains.
Phones rang.
Somewhere nearby, a child was crying.
I hated that sound now.
Every cry reminded me of Lily on the bedroom floor.
The nurse led me to a room near the end of the hall.
Rachel was lying beneath a white blanket.
For a second, I didn’t recognize her.
My wife had always been expressive.
Even when she slept, her face seemed alive.
A crease near her eyebrow.
A twitch at the corner of her mouth.
Something.
Now she looked completely still.
There was oxygen tubing beneath her nose.
An IV in her arm.
Electrodes beneath the collar of the hospital gown.
I walked to the bed.
“Rachel.”
No response.
I touched her hand.
Cold.
Not dangerously cold.
But cold enough that it frightened me.
Dr. Lang entered behind me.
He looked about fifty, exhausted but focused.
“Mr. Parker.”
“What did she take?”
“We’re still running tests.”
“You said there was something in her system.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
He glanced toward Detective Morales, who had entered quietly.
Then back at me.
“Propranolol.”
I knew the name vaguely.
“That’s a blood-pressure drug, right?”
“It’s a beta blocker.”
“Rachel doesn’t take it.”
“We know.”
“Could she have taken it accidentally?”
“The concentration in her blood suggests more than a normal single dose.”
My chest tightened.
“How much?”
“We can’t determine the exact amount.”
“Could it have killed her?”
Dr. Lang paused.
“Yes.”
I stared at Rachel.
“Why did she stop breathing?”
“She experienced severe cardiovascular depression and then respiratory complications.”
“Could that happen from propranolol?”
“In a significant overdose, yes.”
Morales stepped closer.
“Doctor, was anything else found?”
Dr. Lang nodded.
“A sedative.”
“What kind?”
“Temazepam.”
I looked at him.
“She doesn’t take that either.”
“We confirmed it through her medication history.”
I felt sick.
Two medications.
Neither prescribed.
Marlene’s note.
Give the second dose.
This wasn’t an accident.
I pulled a chair beside Rachel’s bed.
Morales asked the doctor several questions.
When he left, she sat across from me.
“We need to talk about Lily.”
“She’s nine.”
“I know.”
“She watched someone poison her mother.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“Come on.”
Morales leaned forward.
“I think something criminal happened.”
“Then arrest Marlene.”
“I need evidence.”
“You have the note.”
“I have handwriting that still needs authentication.”
“You have Lily.”
“A frightened child.”
“You have Rachel’s toxicology.”
“Which proves she had drugs in her system.”
I stood.
“What else do you need?”
“The chain.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“How the drugs got into her body.”
She spoke quietly.
“Who obtained them.”
“Who administered them.”
“Who knew about them.”
“Who benefited.”
“Who helped afterward.”
That last sentence stayed with me.
“Helped afterward.”
Morales nodded.
“Your daughter mentioned Dr. Hale.”
“Do you know him?”
“I know of him.”
“Why?”
Morales leaned back.
“Victor Hale spent more than twenty years in internal medicine.”
“About eight years ago he moved into hospital administration.”
“He’s now a senior adviser to St. Anne’s network.”
“Why would he help Marlene?”
“I don’t know.”
“He signed Thomas Whitaker’s death certificate.”
“Yes.”
“Was there something suspicious about Thomas’s death?”
“Not according to the official record.”
“But?”
She hesitated.
“But Thomas Whitaker’s name came up in an old financial investigation involving one of Hale’s charitable organizations.”
I stared at her.
“What investigation?”
“It never resulted in charges.”
“What kind of charity?”
“Senior housing.”
That caught my attention.
Thomas had owned assisted-living facilities.
“Rachel’s father was in that business.”
“I know.”
“Did Rachel know about the investigation?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone buzzed.
Mrs. Alvarez.
I answered.
“Lily okay?”
“She’s calmer.”
Mrs. Alvarez lowered her voice.
“But Ethan, she keeps asking if Grandma is coming back.”
“She isn’t.”
“What should I tell her?”
“Tell her I’m with Rachel.”
I looked at my wife.
“Tell her Mom is alive.”
After I hung up, I noticed Rachel’s fingers move.
At first, I thought I’d imagined it.
“Rachel?”
Her eyelids fluttered.
I stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
“Rachel.”
Morales called for a nurse.
Rachel’s eyes opened halfway.
They were unfocused.
She looked past me.
Then toward me.
“Ethan?”
I leaned over the bed.
“I’m here.”
Her lips trembled.
“Lily?”
“She’s safe.”
Rachel’s eyes closed.
“No.”
“Rachel.”
“She’s not safe.”
My heart accelerated.
“Why?”
She tried to lift her hand.
I held it.
“Don’t force yourself.”
Her eyes opened again.
“Mom.”
“I know.”
Fear appeared immediately.
“You know?”
“I found her with Lily.”
Rachel’s eyes widened.
“What did she do?”
“She was trying to keep Lily quiet.”
Rachel began trying to sit up.
The monitor changed rhythm.
A nurse rushed in.
“Mrs. Parker, stay back.”
“My daughter.”
“She’s safe.”
I held Rachel’s shoulders gently.
“Lily is with Mrs. Alvarez.”
Rachel stared at me.
“Don’t let Mom near her.”
“I won’t.”
“Ever.”
“I won’t.”
Her breathing slowed.
Morales stepped into view.
“Rachel, I’m Detective Morales.”
Rachel looked at her.
“I need to ask you something.”
The nurse interrupted.
“Not now.”
Rachel shook her head weakly.
“It’s okay.”
Morales looked at me.
Then back to Rachel.
“Do you remember what happened this morning?”
Rachel’s eyes moved toward the ceiling.
“I had tea.”
“Who made it?”
“Mom.”
“Did it taste unusual?”
Rachel nodded.
“Bitter.”
“What happened afterward?”
“I got dizzy.”
Her voice was barely audible.
“Derek came in.”
I looked at Morales.
Rachel’s brother.
Again.
“Your brother Derek?”
Rachel nodded.
“I thought he was in Phoenix.”
“So did I.”
“What did he say?”
Rachel looked at me.
“He asked for the files.”
“What files?”
Rachel hesitated.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“The ones Dad left me.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What did Thomas leave you?”
“Proof.”
“Proof of what?”
She closed her eyes.
“Money.”
Morales leaned closer.
“What money?”
Rachel whispered.
“Mom stole from him for years.”
I stared at her.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Rachel.”
“Millions.”
The room went silent except for the monitor.
I sat back down.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
I almost laughed from disbelief.
“Tonight?”
She nodded.
“I found the last account yesterday.”
“What account?”
“One in Derek’s name.”
Morales took out a notebook.
“What kind of account?”
“An investment account.”
“How much?”
“Two point eight million.”
I stared at her.
Rachel continued.
“It came from one of Dad’s trusts.”
“Was Derek authorized to receive it?”
“No.”
“What about Marlene?”
Rachel shook her head.
“Dad changed everything before he died.”
“Changed what?”
“The estate.”
My head was spinning.
Rachel’s father had been dead six years.
Her mother had almost killed her that morning.
Her brother had returned from another state.
A doctor connected to her father’s death had somehow entered the picture.
And my daughter had seen enough to become a threat.
“What did your father change?”
Rachel whispered.
“He removed Mom as trustee.”
Morales looked up.
“Why?”
“Because he discovered what she was doing.”
“What was she doing?”
Rachel opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
Fear passed across her face.
Not fear of memory.
Fear of something happening right now.
She looked toward the doorway.
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“Close the door.”
I did.
Morales turned toward the hall.
The nurse stepped outside.
Rachel grabbed my hand.
Her fingers were weak.
But desperate.
“Mom wasn’t alone.”
I leaned closer.
“You mean Derek?”
Rachel shook her head.
“No.”
“Who?”
She looked toward Morales.
Then back to me.
“Hale.”
The name landed like a weight.
“Victor Hale was at the house?”
“No.”
“Then what do you mean?”
Rachel swallowed.
“He called her.”
“When?”
“After I started getting sick.”
“Did you hear him?”
“Speakerphone.”
“What did he say?”
Rachel’s voice broke.
“He asked if I was unconscious yet.”
Morales stopped writing.
I felt every muscle in my body tighten.
“What else?”
Rachel stared at me.
“He told Mom not to panic.”
“He said if the dosage didn’t finish it…”
She stopped.
My mouth went dry.
“If it didn’t finish what?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“He said the hospital could.”
Before I could respond, an alarm sounded outside.
A nurse hurried past the room.
Then another.
Morales stepped into the hallway.
“What happened?”
Someone shouted from the nurses’ station.
A security officer ran toward the elevators.
Morales came back.
“Stay with Rachel.”
“Why?”
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she pulled out her phone.
Then I saw a hospital administrator hurry past.
He was speaking into a radio.
“Lock the south elevators.”
Another voice answered.
“Dr. Hale’s badge was just used on this floor.”
Rachel squeezed my hand.
Her face went white.
I looked at the door.
May you like
Victor Hale was somewhere inside the hospital.
And according to my wife, he had already planned what would happen if the poison failed.
