Chapter 8 - The Doctor Who Had Never Met Me
I arrived at Dr. Keller's office at nine forty-five the next morning.
Rachel sat two floors below in the lobby with an investigator.
The police knew where I was.
The unknown sender had said come alone.
I intended to satisfy the appearance of that demand, not the stupidity of it.
Dr. Keller's clinic occupied a quiet suite with pale walls and framed photographs of mountain lakes.
The receptionist smiled when I gave my name.
Then her expression became uncertain.
"Your son is not with you?"
"No."
She looked at the appointment notes.
"He said he would be bringing you."
"My son says many things."
A nurse led me into an examination room.
Dr. Keller arrived five minutes later.
He was in his early fifties, neat, calm, and visibly confused.
"Mrs. Vance, I understand there is a guardianship matter."
"There is."
"Your son expressed concern about memory loss, falls, and poor judgment."
"Did my son send you a proposed report?"
His face changed.
"Excuse me?"
I placed a copy of the draft evaluation on the desk.
He picked it up.
By the second paragraph, his jaw tightened.
"I did not write this."
"Your signature is on it."
"That is not my signature."
"The document was created before today."
He looked at me.
"Who gave you this?"
"That is part of an ongoing investigation."
He walked to the door and closed it.
"Mrs. Vance, I need to call my attorney."
"You should."
"I also need to know whether my office sent anything to your son."
"You should find that out too."
He stepped into the hallway.
I remained seated.
At ten exactly, my phone buzzed.
Room 307.
West stairwell.
I looked at the clinic door.
Dr. Keller had not returned.
I texted Rachel one word.
Moving.
Then I walked into the hallway.
The west stairwell door stood near the elevators.
I pushed through it and climbed one floor.
Room 307 was not a medical office.
It was a vacant suite under renovation.
The door was unlocked.
I entered.
Plastic sheeting covered the floor.
A man stood near the far window.
Greg Dalton.
Alive.
Older than the obituary photograph.
Thinner.
But unmistakably Greg.
"Eleanor."
"You look healthy for a dead man."
He almost smiled.
"I have had better years."
"Why did you fake your death?"
"Because someone wanted me dead."
"Who?"
"Your husband thought it was Daniel."
I tightened my grip on the cane.
"Do not use Thomas to frighten me."
"I am not."
"Then start with the truth."
Greg glanced at the door.
"Thomas found the probate files."
"I know."
That surprised him.
"He found the North Valley ledger."
"I know that too."
Greg's eyes narrowed.
"Then you found the basement."
I did not answer.
"Thomas was smarter than Daniel said."
"Thomas was smarter than most people said."
Greg paced once across the room.
"North Valley was supposed to buy distressed property."
"At first?"
"Yes."
"Then?"
"Kessler brought a guardianship sale to us."
"Which one?"
"Louise Brenner."
The first case on Thomas's list.
"The property was underpriced."
"Very."
"And you bought it anyway."
"Yes."
"Then you did it seventeen more times."
Greg looked at the floor.
"Not all of them were mine."
"They were all North Valley."
"North Valley stopped being mine."
"When?"
"When Daniel needed money."
I waited.
People reveal more when silence becomes uncomfortable.
Greg finally continued.
"Daniel borrowed against projects that did not exist."
"I know about the guarantee."
His head lifted sharply.
"Thomas showed you?"
"Thomas left records."
Greg swore under his breath.
"Then you need to understand something."
"I understand forgery."
"Not this."
He stepped closer.
"Daniel did not create the guardianship pipeline."
"Who did?"
Greg looked toward the plastic-covered window.
"Kessler."
That was plausible.
It was also convenient.
"You expect me to believe the lawyer built everything and you were just collecting checks?"
"No."
"Good."
"I helped him."
At least that was honest.
"Why fake your death?"
"Because I tried to leave."
"From a real estate company?"
"From a fraud operation."
"And who threatened you?"
"Kessler first."
"And Daniel?"
Greg hesitated.
"Daniel was angry."
"That is not an answer."
"He said if I talked, he would tell everyone I created the scheme."
"Did you?"
"Part of it."
"Then his threat had some truth."
Greg looked tired.
"Your husband offered me a deal."
"Thomas was not a prosecutor."
"He offered me survival."
He reached into his jacket slowly.
I raised the cane.
"Easy."
He removed a small memory card.
"Thomas told me to copy everything and disappear."
"Why would he trust you?"
"He did not."
Greg held out the card.
"He trusted evidence."
I did not take it.
"Put it on the floor."
He did.
"What is on it?"
"Calls."
"Whose?"
"Daniel, Vanessa, Kessler, me."
"Why not give it to police?"
Greg laughed without humor.
"Because one detective already told Kessler I was asking questions."
That claim could be true.
It could also be designed to isolate me.
"Why contact Helen?"
"Because Thomas told me she would know whether you were still yourself."
Anger flashed through me.
"Still myself?"
"He was worried Daniel would drug you."
The room went silent.
"What did you say?"
Greg looked directly at me.
"Thomas believed they planned to make your confusion real if the court case was not enough."
I thought of the untouched bottle of sleep medication Vanessa had brought me after the funeral.
She had said grief was keeping me awake.
I had taken one pill and felt disoriented for nearly a day.
I stopped using it because I hated the feeling.
"What drug?"
"I do not know."
"Who told Thomas?"
"Vanessa."
That made no sense.
"Why would Vanessa tell him?"
"She did not know he was recording her."
Before I could ask more, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Greg's face changed instantly.
"Did you bring police?"
"Not into this room."
"You were followed."
The door handle moved.
Greg stepped backward.
The door opened.
Dr. Keller stood there.
Behind him was Daniel.
My son stared at Greg as if he had seen a ghost.
Then Daniel whispered one word.
"You."
Greg moved first.
He ran toward the emergency exit at the back of the suite.
Daniel lunged after him.
I struck Daniel's shin with my cane hard enough to stop him.
He spun toward me.
"What are you doing?"
"Preventing another fall."
Rachel and the investigator reached the doorway seconds later.
Greg had already disappeared down the rear stairwell.
But he left the memory card on the floor.
Daniel saw it.
For the first time since the case began, he did not look angry.
He looked terrified.
"Mom, do not listen to that."
I looked at my son.
"Why?"
May you like
His answer came as a whisper.
"Because Dad is on it too."
