Chapter 5 - THE DEATH WE NEVER QUESTIONED
Claire wanted to leave the cabin immediately.
I didn't.
“My father was murdered?”
“We don't know.”
“You just showed me—”
“A suspicion.”
“That Peter intercepted.”
“Yes.”
I looked toward Arthur.
He remained seated on the floor, wrists zip-tied behind him by Claire.
Apparently she had become frighteningly competent while I was busy cheating.
“Ask him.”
Claire shook her head.
“Arthur won't talk to you.”
I crouched.
“Try me.”
Arthur smiled.
“You still think being angry makes people afraid.”
Claire looked at me.
That irritated me more than Arthur.
He was right.
I asked differently.
“What happened the night my father died?”
Arthur's smile faded.
He looked toward Claire.
Interesting.
“Why her?”
No answer.
Claire noticed too.
“You know me?”
Arthur said:
“Not personally.”
Lie.
Then headlights appeared again.
This time several vehicles.
Claire checked her watch.
“Federal investigators.”
I stared.
“You called them?”
“Thirty minutes ago.”
“You said law enforcement was compromised.”
“Local. Not federal.”
Arthur finally looked afraid.
Good.
Agents entered, took him into custody, secured the cabin, copied the evidence, and separated us for interviews.
By afternoon, I learned something worse than murder suspicion.
My father's death certificate listed cardiac arrest.
But his physician had originally requested toxicology.
The request disappeared.
Who canceled it?
Dr. Malcolm Reeves.
Our family physician.
Peter's college roommate.
Federal agents located him that evening.
He denied wrongdoing.
Then they showed him financial transfers.
Peter had paid him $300,000 through a consulting company the month after Robert died.
Reeves asked for an attorney.
Claire sat across the room from me while agents worked.
I finally asked:
“Why did you divorce me before telling me?”
She looked tired.
“Because Peter had started moving assets into accounts linked to spouses.”
“What?”
“If you were arrested, questioned, or financially frozen, I needed legal separation before he could use our marriage to tie me into anything.”
That made sense.
Too much.
“And the affair?”
Claire's eyes hardened.
“That made leaving easier.”
Fair.
“You said divorce wasn't revenge.”
“It wasn't.”
“What was it?”
“Containment.”
The word hurt.
I had become a risk to manage.
Then an agent entered.
They had reopened my father's death.
Preliminary review showed an unusual medication in preserved blood samples.
A beta blocker.
High concentration.
Robert wasn't prescribed one.
Someone may have caused a fatal cardiac event.
I looked at Claire.
“Peter.”
She didn't answer.
Because there was more.
May you like
The medication wasn't purchased by Peter.
It was purchased by someone using Claire's name.
