Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Visited My Dying Wife

# Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Visited My Dying Wife

The woman I had almost married had apparently stood beside my dying wife's hospital bed four years before she ever introduced herself to me.

And according to Dr. Margaret Ellis, she had entered that room pretending to be someone who didn't exist.

Emily's sister.

I stood in my living room with the phone pressed against my ear, staring at Claire as though she might somehow explain what I had just heard.

"Mr. Mercer?" Dr. Ellis asked. "Are you still there?"

"Yes."

My voice sounded unfamiliar.

"Are you absolutely certain it was Vanessa?"

"I recognized her face in the wedding coverage. But I want you to see the photograph yourself."

"Why didn't you tell me four years ago?"

A long silence followed.

"Because I was afraid."

"Of Vanessa?"

"Of the people who made your wife's medical records disappear."

My stomach tightened.

"What records?"

"Mr. Mercer, please don't discuss this over the telephone. Come to my office. And don't tell Richard Cole where you're going."

The call ended.

I stood motionless.

Claire was watching me.

"Daniel, what did she say?"

I looked at Emily's laptop, still open on the dining table. Her face remained frozen in the final frame of the video.

"Vanessa was at the hospital."

Claire frowned.

"What hospital?"

"The night Emily died."

Her hand flew to her mouth.

"No."

"She went into Emily's room and claimed to be her sister."

Claire slowly lowered herself into a chair.

"That's impossible."

"Apparently not."

"But you didn't meet Vanessa until two years after Emily died."

"I know."

That was the part I couldn't stop thinking about.

Vanessa had told me we met by coincidence at a charity fundraiser.

She had approached me near the silent auction table, complimented the photograph of Ethan on my phone, and asked whether I was married.

When I told her I was a widower, she had looked genuinely embarrassed.

I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked.

I remembered thinking how sincere she seemed.

Now I wondered whether she'd known the answer before asking.

And whether that entire evening had been arranged.

"You're not going alone," Claire said.

I looked at her.

"Someone needs to stay with Ethan."

"Then we'll call Mrs. Patterson and ask her to keep him a little longer."

I shook my head.

"No. He's been through enough today. I don't want him waking up in a stranger's house wondering where we are."

Claire stood.

"She's not a stranger, Daniel. She's known him for years."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

Her expression softened.

"You're scared."

I almost denied it.

Instead, I sat down.

For the first time since the wedding, the full weight of what had happened began settling over me.

My fiancée had faked a pregnancy.

My business partner had secretly met with her.

My son had recorded them discussing a plan that apparently involved removing him from my life.

And now my dead wife had left behind a warning connecting Richard to something dangerous.

I rubbed my hands over my face.

"I don't know who to trust anymore."

Claire sat beside me.

"You can trust me."

I wanted to believe her without hesitation.

But I remembered what she'd admitted earlier.

Emily had called her before the accident.

Richard had visited her after the funeral.

And she'd kept both things from me for four years.

"Why didn't you tell me about Emily's call?" I asked.

Claire looked wounded.

"Daniel—"

"Please. I need to understand."

She folded her hands.

"Because the last time we spoke about Emily, you told me you couldn't survive another conversation about her death."

I remembered.

It had been six weeks after the funeral.

Claire had found me sitting in the nursery we'd never converted into Ethan's playroom, holding Emily's wedding ring.

I'd told her I couldn't keep reliving that night.

She had respected my wishes.

Or perhaps she'd used them as a reason to avoid something frightening.

"I should have told you anyway," she whispered.

I looked at her.

"Yes. You should have."

Neither of us spoke for a while.

Then my phone vibrated.

A message from Vanessa.

Daniel, I know you're angry. But whatever Richard told you, please don't believe everything you hear.

I stared at the screen.

How did she know Richard had spoken to me?

Another message appeared.

There are things about Emily that you don't understand.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

I typed:

Were you at the hospital the night she died?

The typing indicator appeared immediately.

Then disappeared.

A minute passed.

Finally, her answer arrived.

Yes.

One word.

Four years of lies.

I typed again.

Why?

Her reply came almost instantly.

Because I was trying to save her.

I read the message aloud.

Claire stared at me.

"Save her from what?"

I called Vanessa.

She answered on the first ring.

"Daniel."

"Don't say my name like we're still getting married."

She inhaled sharply.

"Please listen."

"You were in Emily's hospital room?"

"Yes."

"Before we met?"

"Yes."

"You pretended to be her sister?"

A pause.

"Yes."

I closed my eyes.

"Then tell me why."

"I can't explain everything over the phone."

"That's becoming a very popular answer today."

"Because phones can be monitored."

I laughed bitterly.

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"No," she whispered. "I don't expect you to believe anything I say."

For the first time, she sounded exhausted rather than defensive.

"Then give me one reason not to call the police."

"Because Richard has already spoken to them."

I went still.

"What?"

"He knows what happened at the church. He's preparing to make you look unstable."

"How?"

"He's going to say you've been suffering from severe grief-related paranoia since Emily died."

My stomach tightened.

"That's ridiculous."

"He has photographs of you drinking after her funeral. Records of your therapy appointments. Emails where you admitted you were struggling."

I looked toward Claire.

Richard knew those things.

He had helped me find a therapist.

He had sat with me during the worst nights.

He had promised that whatever I told him would stay between us.

Vanessa continued.

"He'll claim Ethan was manipulated into creating those recordings."

"By whom?"

"By you."

I gripped the phone.

"And the fake pregnancy?"

She didn't answer.

"How exactly does he plan to explain that?"

"He'll say you knew it wasn't real."

I felt sick.

"Vanessa, what have you done?"

Her voice broke.

"Something I can't undo."

Then she whispered, "Daniel, don't go to Margaret Ellis alone."

My blood turned cold.

"How do you know I'm going to see her?"

Silence.

"Vanessa?"

The line disconnected.

Twenty minutes later, I was driving toward the medical office with Claire beside me.

Ethan was safely back at Mrs. Patterson's house, and I had promised to call him before bedtime.

I had also forwarded the recordings from his phone to an email account Richard didn't know existed.

For the first time, I understood that evidence could disappear.

And that trusting the wrong person with it might be more dangerous than having no evidence at all.

The medical office stood at the end of a quiet commercial street.

Its sign read:

ELLIS FAMILY MEDICINE

The parking lot was nearly empty.

A single lamp illuminated the entrance.

Claire looked at the building.

"Something feels wrong."

I checked the time.

8:42 p.m.

Dr. Ellis had asked us to arrive before nine.

"Stay in the car," I told her.

"Absolutely not."

"Claire—"

"We've already established that keeping secrets is a terrible idea."

Despite everything, I almost smiled.

We walked toward the entrance together.

The front door was unlocked.

Inside, the reception area smelled faintly of disinfectant.

A small lamp glowed behind the desk.

"Dr. Ellis?" I called.

No answer.

We moved down a narrow hallway.

One examination room stood open.

Another was dark.

At the far end, a door was partially closed.

I knocked.

"Dr. Ellis?"

A woman's voice answered.

"Come in."

She was sitting behind a wooden desk, wearing a gray cardigan over a white blouse.

Her silver-streaked hair was pulled into a loose bun.

She looked older than I expected.

And frightened.

"Daniel Mercer?"

"Yes."

She rose slowly.

"I'm sorry we had to meet this way."

I didn't bother with introductions.

"You said Vanessa visited Emily."

Dr. Ellis nodded.

"Please sit down."

"I'd rather stand."

She looked toward Claire.

"And you are?"

"Claire Mercer. Daniel's sister."

Something changed in the doctor's expression.

She studied Claire for a moment.

Then looked away.

"All right."

She opened a desk drawer and removed a brown envelope.

"This is what Emily gave me."

I reached for it.

Dr. Ellis pulled it back.

"Before you open it, I need to tell you what happened that night."

I forced myself to remain still.

"Go ahead."

"Your wife arrived at the emergency department after a serious motor vehicle collision. She had multiple injuries, but she was conscious during part of her initial treatment."

I swallowed.

"Why was I told she never woke up?"

"Because the final summary was altered."

"By whom?"

"I don't know who authorized the changes."

She took off her glasses.

"But I know what I witnessed."

I sat down.

For four years, I'd imagined Emily dying alone, unconscious, unaware of what was happening.

Now I was being told she had been awake.

Possibly frightened.

Possibly asking for me.

"Did she ask for her husband?" I whispered.

Dr. Ellis nodded.

My eyes filled with tears.

"Several times."

I covered my mouth.

Claire began crying quietly beside me.

"Why didn't anyone call me?"

"We tried. Your wife gave us your number, but someone had already contacted the hospital claiming to represent your family."

"Richard?"

Dr. Ellis nodded.

"He arrived shortly afterward."

I stared at her.

"He told the staff he was your business partner and close family friend. He said you were on your way."

"Was Vanessa with him?"

"Not initially."

She opened a folder.

"Approximately forty minutes later, a woman arrived claiming to be Emily's sister. She said she had permission to see her."

"And you let her in?"

"At that time, we had no reason to believe she was lying."

"What happened inside?"

Dr. Ellis hesitated.

"I wasn't present for their entire conversation. But when I returned, Emily was extremely upset."

"Why?"

"She kept repeating that the woman had found her."

I felt a chill.

"Found her?"

"Yes."

Dr. Ellis looked directly at me.

"Your wife said, 'She wasn't supposed to know I had the files.'"

I stared at the envelope.

"What files?"

"Emily wouldn't tell me."

She pushed the envelope toward me.

"But she asked me to keep this away from Richard."

I opened it carefully.

Inside were three items.

A folded letter.

A small brass key.

And a photograph.

The photograph showed Richard standing outside a restaurant beside a woman with short blond hair.

I recognized him immediately.

The woman looked familiar, but I couldn't place her.

Claire leaned forward.

"Oh my God."

I turned.

"What?"

She pointed at the photograph.

"That's the woman I saw arguing with Richard outside the church."

My heart began pounding.

I flipped the photograph over.

Emily had written something on the back.

M. VALE — NOT HER REAL NAME

Below it was a date.

Three days before the accident.

"Who is she?" I asked.

Dr. Ellis shook her head.

"I don't know."

I unfolded the letter.

Emily's handwriting covered both sides.

Daniel,

If you're reading this, I wasn't able to explain everything myself.

I found evidence that Richard has been moving money through accounts connected to medical facilities and insurance companies. At first, I thought he was stealing from our business.

But the payments aren't just financial transactions.

They're connected to people.

People whose identities have been changed.

I stopped reading.

My mouth had gone dry.

Claire leaned closer.

I continued.

I don't know how deeply this goes. I only know that someone inside the hospital system has been helping them.

Richard is not acting alone.

And the woman calling herself Margaret Vale is far more dangerous than he is.

I looked up.

Dr. Ellis was watching me carefully.

"Did Emily tell you anything about this woman?"

"Only that she was afraid of her."

I looked back at the letter.

There was one final paragraph.

Daniel, please forgive me for keeping this from you. I thought I could protect our family by finding the truth before telling you.

Whatever happens, keep Ethan away from Richard.

And remember that the safest person is not always the one who appears most frightened.

I lowered the letter.

My hands were shaking.

Claire wiped her eyes.

"Daniel, we have to take this to the police."

Dr. Ellis shook her head.

"Not yet."

I looked at her.

"Why?"

"Because I tried."

She reached into another drawer and removed a thin folder.

"Two years ago, I reported irregularities in Emily's medical records. Three days later, someone broke into my house."

I stared at her.

"Did they steal anything?"

"No."

She swallowed.

"They left a photograph of my granddaughter sleeping in her bedroom."

Claire went pale.

Dr. Ellis continued.

"There was a note attached."

"What did it say?"

"Stop asking questions."

Silence filled the office.

Then Dr. Ellis looked at me.

"Mr. Mercer, I didn't contact you because I suddenly became brave. I contacted you because someone called me this afternoon."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"What did they say?"

"That Richard had failed to control the situation at the wedding. That the plan was changing."

My stomach tightened.

"What plan?"

She shook her head.

"They didn't explain."

Then she said, "But they told me I had until midnight to surrender everything Emily gave me."

I checked my watch.

9:16 p.m.

Less than three hours.

"Why would they think you still had it?"

"Because someone has been watching me."

I looked toward the window.

The parking lot was dark.

For a moment, I thought I saw movement beside the trees.

Then it disappeared.

"We need to leave," I said.

Dr. Ellis nodded.

"There's one more thing."

She reached beneath her desk and removed a small digital recorder.

"Emily spoke to me privately before she died. I recorded part of our conversation because she was making allegations about someone connected to the hospital."

I stared at the device.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Because I wasn't sure whether I could trust you."

The words stung.

She pressed play.

Static crackled.

Then Emily's voice filled the room.

"Please," she whispered. "If anything happens to me, tell Daniel I tried."

My throat tightened.

Dr. Ellis's younger voice followed.

"Mrs. Mercer, who are you afraid of?"

There was a pause.

"Richard."

"Your husband's business partner?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I found the records."

"What records?"

"Payments. Names. Children."

My breath caught.

Children?

Dr. Ellis asked another question.

"Does your husband know?"

"No."

"Why haven't you told him?"

Emily began crying.

"Because Richard said he'd take Ethan."

I felt something inside me break.

My wife had been threatened with losing our son.

And I had known nothing.

On the recording, Dr. Ellis spoke gently.

"Emily, you're safe here."

"No," Emily whispered. "I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because she's coming."

"Who?"

There was a long silence.

Then Emily answered.

"The woman who works for Richard."

Dr. Ellis asked, "What's her name?"

Emily's voice dropped.

"Margaret Vale."

The recording ended.

I stared at the device.

Claire was trembling.

"Daniel," she whispered, "we need to go."

I stood.

Dr. Ellis reached for the recorder.

But before she could put it away, I noticed something.

The photograph.

The woman standing beside Richard.

Short blond hair.

Dark coat.

A face that had been troubling me since I first saw it.

I looked at Dr. Ellis.

Then at the photograph.

Then back at her.

"Doctor," I said slowly, "how long have you been practicing medicine?"

She frowned.

"Thirty-two years."

"Have you always used the name Margaret Ellis?"

Her expression changed.

Only slightly.

But enough.

Claire turned toward me.

"Daniel?"

I held up the photograph.

The woman in the picture had a different hairstyle.

She appeared younger.

But the shape of her jaw was unmistakable.

So were her eyes.

I looked directly at the doctor.

"You're Margaret Vale."

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Then Dr. Ellis quietly closed the folder on her desk.

"Daniel," she said, "there are things about your wife that you don't understand."

My blood ran cold.

It was almost exactly what Vanessa had told me.

I stepped backward.

"Claire. We're leaving."

But Dr. Ellis didn't try to stop us.

Instead, she looked toward the office door.

Her expression filled with sudden fear.

"You're too late."

A heavy metallic click echoed from the hallway.

Then another.

Someone had locked the building.

Claire grabbed my arm.

"Daniel, what was that?"

Dr. Ellis slowly rose from her chair.

"Listen to me carefully," she whispered. "I didn't bring you here to hurt you."

I stared at her.

"Then why did you lie about your name?"

"Because Margaret Vale was supposed to be dead."

Before I could respond, footsteps sounded outside the office.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Coming closer.

Dr. Ellis looked toward the door.

Then she whispered something that made my heart stop.

"Daniel, hide the letter. The man coming through that door is the one who ordered Emily's death."

The doorknob began to turn.