Chapter 9 - THE DOCTOR WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
For three years, I'd believed my father's stroke was caused by stress.
That was what the doctors told me.
That was what Preston repeated whenever I blamed him for destroying our family.
Now Gabriel Costa was suggesting someone might have deliberately harmed my father.
I felt physically sick.
"How?"
Gabriel shook his head.
"I don't know exactly what happened. But Henry told me he was afraid someone had interfered with his medical care."
Roman immediately contacted investigators.
They requested my father's original medical records.
The files contained an unusual detail.
On the day he suffered the stroke, my father had received treatment at a private clinic.
Not a hospital.
The clinic was owned by a company connected to Charles Hayes.
Dr. Evelyn Mercer had been consulting there.
My stomach twisted.
The same doctor involved in my father's disappearance.
An independent neurologist reviewed the records.
He explained that the available evidence could not establish whether the stroke had been deliberately caused.
But he identified unexplained discrepancies in medication documentation.
Those discrepancies required investigation.
Roman looked at me.
"We're going to find out."
I nodded.
I wanted answers.
But more than anything, I wanted my father home.
Later that afternoon, detectives located Dr. Mercer.
She was attempting to leave Chicago.
During questioning, she initially denied wrongdoing.
Then investigators showed her the forged transfer documents.
Her expression collapsed.
She admitted Preston had pressured her to arrange my father's removal from the care facility.
"Where did you take him?" the detective demanded.
She began crying.
"Charles Hayes ordered the transfer."
"Where?"
"An old private medical center near the river."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Charles Hayes.
The man everyone believed was dead.
Roman's expression darkened.
"He's alive."
The detective nodded.
"That's what we're investigating."
Dr. Mercer continued.
"Charles needed Henry to identify documents recovered from Halcyon."
"And Preston?"
"He was supposed to keep Sloan away from the investigation."
I felt cold.
Preston hadn't merely humiliated me for amusement.
He had been helping protect a larger conspiracy.
The detective asked one final question.
"Who ordered Henry Whitmore's medical treatment altered?"
Dr. Mercer shook her head.
"I never agreed to hurt him."
Then she looked toward the camera.
"But I know who signed the original instructions."
The detective leaned forward.
"Who?"
May you like
Dr. Mercer whispered:
"Preston's mother."
