Chapter 7 - Thirteen Names
The notebook page had been folded so many times the creases were nearly white.
I unfolded it carefully and laid it beside Emily's water cup.
Rose Ellis was on the list.
So was Arthur Ellis, though he'd died the previous winter.
The remaining names were unfamiliar, scattered across three neighboring counties.
Emily explained that she'd copied them from the spreadsheet because the service dates didn't line up with the status field.
Sometimes a patient was marked discharged while the company continued billing.
Sometimes a patient was marked deceased even though a family contact record showed an appointment weeks later.
She had put stars beside entries that appeared most obviously wrong.
"I wasn't sure," she said.
"You didn't have to be sure."
"Dad said I could ruin people's lives by asking questions."
I brushed her hair back.
"He was wrong to put that burden on you."
Emily's lip trembled.
"I thought if I showed him the mistakes, he'd fix them."
That was what broke my heart.
Even after everything, she had gone to him expecting a father.
Instead, she'd found a man protecting a set of numbers.
Collins collected a copy of the page and explained that investigators would need to verify each entry independently.
I asked whether the dates could help identify victims.
"Maybe," she said, "but your daughter isn't responsible for solving this case."
I repeated those words to Emily after the detective left.
She seemed relieved and guilty at the same time.
At four that afternoon, Marian Vale called the hospital's protected contact number.
Lauren arranged the conversation in a private room, with Emily resting and Allison present.
Marian's voice was lower than I'd expected, roughened by fatigue.
"I received the files," she said.
I gripped the phone.
"You know my daughter?"
"Only through messages. She was careful. She used an account with no identifying photograph."
"Why didn't you call the police?"
"I did. Years ago. But I couldn't prove which records had been altered or who authorized it. Your daughter's documents may change that."
Marian paused.
"I told her to stop looking. I told her to tell a trusted adult."
I shut my eyes.
"She tried."
"I know," Marian said gently.
Then she explained her supposed disappearance.
Her accident had been real.
The threats afterward had been real too.
But she had no proof Michael caused the collision, and she refused to make that accusation without it.
She'd left town because she was exhausted and scared.
She'd spent four years keeping records in boxes, hoping somebody would one day listen.
"Emily found me because she searched an old audit report," Marian said.
"And now?"
"Now she has what I never did. The original account numbers with modification timestamps."
Outside the room, a cart rattled past.
I could hear my own breathing.
Then Marian told me one last thing.
"Sarah, your husband's name is on the reports, but he wasn't the only one who signed them."
"Who else?"
"Daniel Price."
I remembered Daniel's smile at our Christmas table.
Curiosity can become expensive.
Before the call ended, Marian asked a question so unexpected I thought I'd misunderstood.
May you like
"Has your husband ever told you where the money for your house came from?"
