Chapter 4 - THE DOCTOR WHO SOLD A DEATH
Dr. Samuel Whitmore had spent five years waiting for someone to ask the right question.
When investigators interviewed him, he looked older than his photograph.
His hair was white.
His hands trembled.
And according to Rebecca, he seemed relieved that the old fire investigation had reopened.
"I didn't kill Lily Vale," he told them.
I watched the recorded interview with my attorney.
Whitmore continued.
"Vincent Marlow gave me paperwork identifying a deceased woman. He said the body had been recovered from an industrial accident."
Rebecca paused the recording.
I stared at the screen.
"Did he verify the identity?"
"No."
The answer made my stomach turn.
Whitmore admitted signing documentation he shouldn't have signed.
He said he was under financial pressure.
Vincent had promised to pay his debts.
Instead, Whitmore helped create the foundation of a lie that destroyed my life.
I forced myself to keep watching.
"Did you know Lily was alive?" the investigator asked.
Whitmore hesitated.
"Not at first."
My pulse quickened.
"What do you mean, not at first?"
Whitmore lowered his head.
"Three weeks after the funeral, I saw her."
I stopped breathing.
The investigator leaned forward.
"Where?"
"At a private rehabilitation facility outside Lancaster."
My heart hammered.
A Pennsylvania town.
Less than two hours from Philadelphia.
For five years, my sister might have been living within driving distance of the home where I'd mourned her.
Whitmore continued.
"She was receiving treatment after an injury."
"What kind?"
"A head injury. She was confused and frightened."
I covered my mouth.
The investigator asked whether he had spoken with her.
Whitmore nodded.
"She asked for her brother."
The words struck me harder than any fist ever had.
Lily had asked for me.
And nobody told me.
I stood abruptly.
The chair scraped across the floor.
Emma looked up.
Dominic?
I couldn't answer.
I walked toward the window.
For five years, I'd blamed myself because I couldn't save Lily from the fire.
Now I was learning she may have survived and spent years believing I abandoned her.
Emma approached slowly.
She waited until I looked at her.
Then signed:
You didn't know.
I stared.
That doesn't change what happened.
No, she answered. But it changes what you can do next.
I swallowed.
She was right.
Rebecca resumed the interview.
Whitmore said the facility was privately owned.
Its patient records were restricted.
And several transfers occurred under different names.
Then the investigator asked who arranged Lily's admission.
Whitmore hesitated.
"Vincent Marlow."
I clenched my hands.
But Whitmore wasn't finished.
"Vincent wasn't the person paying for her care."
The investigator leaned forward.
"Who was?"
Whitmore took a breath.
"A woman."
He looked toward the camera.
"Her name was Eleanor Vale."
I went completely still.
May you like
My mother.
The woman who had supposedly abandoned Lily and me twenty-three years earlier.
