Chapter 8 - THE NIGHT BEFORE MY HUSBAND DIED
Daniel Carter had died on a Tuesday morning.
For nine years, I believed his heart had simply stopped.
Now I was learning that the night before his death, Charles and Diane Whitmore had visited him after hours.
Thomas Keller agreed to meet with our attorney and provide a formal statement.
He remembered the evening clearly.
“Mr. Carter looked angry,” Thomas said. “I'd never seen him like that.”
“Did you hear the conversation?” Rebecca asked.
“Only part of it.”
I leaned forward.
“What part?”
Thomas swallowed.
“Daniel said, ‘You aren't taking another dollar from my employees.’”
My eyes filled with tears.
That sounded like my husband.
He had always taken payroll personally.
During our early years, when Meridian barely survived, Daniel and I sometimes went without salaries so our workers could be paid.
Thomas continued.
“Charles told him he was making a mistake.”
“What happened next?”
“Diane came inside. They argued. Then Daniel asked me to leave.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
Thomas looked ashamed.
“I wish I'd stayed.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“You couldn't have known what would happen.”
Thomas lowered his eyes.
“The next morning, I heard Daniel had died.”
I sat silently.
I remembered that morning.
Daniel had complained of chest discomfort before leaving for work.
I begged him to stay home.
He kissed my forehead and promised to call his doctor.
Two hours later, he collapsed at the office.
An ambulance arrived.
But he never recovered.
Could the confrontation have contributed to his condition?
Or had someone deliberately harmed him?
I needed answers.
But I refused to turn suspicion into certainty.
Rebecca arranged for an independent review of Daniel's medical records and death investigation.
Meanwhile, Margaret located another former employee.
A security supervisor named Harold Price.
He had resigned three days after Daniel died.
When Rebecca contacted him, he initially refused to speak.
Then I called personally.
“Harold, it's Evelyn Carter.”
There was silence.
“Mrs. Carter.”
“I need to know what happened to my husband.”
His breathing changed.
“I've waited nine years for this call.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“What do you know?”
Harold hesitated.
“Daniel came to my office the morning he died.”
“Why?”
“He wanted the security recordings from the previous night.”
My voice trembled.
“Did you give them to him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because someone had already removed the recording system's storage drive.”
I closed my eyes.
“Who?”
Harold swallowed.
“Charles Whitmore.”
Then he added one final detail.
“Mrs. Carter, Charles wasn't alone.”
I gripped the phone.
“Who was with him?”
May you like
Harold's voice dropped.
“Your daughter.”
Related Stories
