Chapter 3 - My Father Had Been Investigating His Own DeathThat sentence did not make sense.
“How do you investigate a death before someone dies?”
Brooks placed his leather briefcase on the desk.
“Sometimes you investigate a threat.”
Eleven weeks.
That was how long Dallas police had quietly been examining my father’s death.
Official cause:
Cardiac arrest.
Expected for a sixty-three-year-old man with heart problems.
Except the initial toxicology showed unusually high concentrations of digitalis-related compounds.
Enough to worsen a cardiac event.
Possibly enough to cause one.
The problem?
The medical examiner had received revised medication records showing Dad had been prescribed a higher dose.
Those records made the toxicology appear explainable.
Brooks opened one of Dad’s original pharmacy reports.
The actual prescription was lower.
Someone altered the file after his death.
“Who?” I asked.
Brooks looked toward Tyler.
Tyler sat down.
“I didn’t know.”
Vanessa snapped:
“Don’t.”
Tyler covered his face.
“I only changed the paperwork.”
The room went silent.
Brooks’s voice became calm.
“What paperwork?”
Tyler looked at his mother.
Then at me.
“She told me Dad had accidentally taken too much medication.”
Vanessa shouted:
“Stop talking!”
One detective moved closer.
Tyler continued.
“Mom said if the company found out he’d been careless with prescriptions, the insurance could become complicated.”
“And?”
“I changed the digital dosage history.”
“How?”
“Dad’s old portal credentials.”
My stomach turned.
“After he was dead?”
Tyler nodded.
“I thought it was about insurance.”
Brooks asked:
“Did you know your mother administered his medication?”
Tyler looked at Vanessa.
“No.”
For the first time, he looked genuinely horrified.
Vanessa moved.
Fast.
Toward the hallway.
Marcus blocked the door.
Detectives stepped in.
Brooks removed handcuffs.
“Vanessa Whitmore, you’re being detained in connection with suspected financial fraud, elder abuse, unlawful confinement, forgery, and the suspicious death of Robert Whitmore.”
Vanessa stared at me.
“This is your fault.”
I almost laughed.
“My fault?”
“You came home and destroyed everything.”
“No.”
I looked toward Dad’s second safe.
“He prepared this before I ever came back.”
Then the handcuffs clicked shut.
May you like
For the first time since I had arrived—
Vanessa looked afraid.
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