Chapter 7 - The Man in the Hospital BedDetective Alvarez arrived at my house less than twenty minutes later.
I showed her the red envelope, the photographs, and the cassette tape. She listened to Martha's recording without interrupting, taking notes whenever my wife's voice mentioned a name or a date.
When it ended, Alvarez stared at the tape player.
“Your wife was incredibly brave.”
“She was my wife,” I said. “I should have known.”
“Sometimes people keep secrets because they're afraid the truth will hurt the people they love.”
“Sometimes those secrets get people killed.”
She accepted that without argument.
Then she examined the photograph of Martha, Rebecca, Daniel, and Sheriff Haskett.
“This changes everything,” she said.
“How?”
“Until now, we've been investigating a possible attempted murder involving an insurance company's former employee. This suggests a criminal enterprise that may have operated for decades.”
“Can you arrest Daniel Pike?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because knowing that someone was involved in a conspiracy thirty-two years ago isn't enough to prove he caused a crash last night.”
She gathered the photographs and returned them to the envelope.
“But the evidence your wife preserved could help us identify the people responsible.”
“Then let's find Rebecca.”
“We will. First, I want you to speak to Greg.”
At St. Catherine's, a nurse escorted us through intensive care. Greg lay beneath a thin white blanket, his body connected to monitors and intravenous lines.
His face was pale. A bruise darkened one cheek, and a bandage crossed his forehead.
For a moment, I couldn't reconcile the man in the bed with the confident, polished fellow who had once sat at my dining table, laughing at my jokes.
He looked terribly young.
The nurse told us he had only a few minutes before he needed to rest.
I approached the bed.
“Greg?”
His eyelids fluttered.
Then he opened them.
“Mr. Ashby.”
His voice was little more than a whisper.
“I'm here.”
He tried to move, grimaced, and stopped.
“Where's Nina?”
“She's waiting outside.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“Good.”
I pulled a chair beside the bed.
“You have a lot of explaining to do.”
A weak smile crossed his face.
“I know.”
“You could have started with the truth before somebody put you into a ditch.”
His smile vanished.
“Did you find the envelope?”
“Yes.”
“And the tape?”
“Yes.”
He turned his head slightly toward Detective Alvarez.
“Did he listen to it?”
“Every second,” she answered.
Greg's eyes returned to mine.
“Then you know about Martha.”
“I know she discovered a criminal operation involving fraudulent accidents. I know she kept evidence. What I don't know is why you were investigating it.”
He took a shallow breath.
“Because it never stopped.”
He explained that Halcyon Mutual had absorbed Keystone Claims Services years earlier. The company had changed its name, replaced its senior officers, and presented itself as a modern insurer.
But certain claims kept appearing.
Accidents with no reliable witnesses. Vehicles that inexplicably left the road. Victims whose families were pressured into accepting small settlements. Reports that disappeared after suspicious payments were authorized.
Greg had initially believed the anomalies were ordinary fraud.
Then he found a connection between three supposedly unrelated crashes.
Every case involved someone who had threatened to expose wrongdoing at the company.
“Rebecca found the original records,” he whispered. “I found the pattern. We needed the red file to prove it.”
“And Daniel Pike?”
“He knew we were close.”
“Did he cause the crash?”
Greg stared at the ceiling.
“I saw him.”
Detective Alvarez moved closer.
“Where?”
“Behind the wheel of the black sedan. He followed us out of the service station.”
“Are you certain?”
Greg's eyes sharpened.
“I've spent nine months investigating him. I know his face.”
“Why didn't you tell the police before now?”
“Because the local department has been compromised for years. Haskett's still got friends everywhere.”
“Sheriff Haskett retired,” Alvarez said.
Greg gave a small, bitter laugh.
“He retired from the uniform. Not from the business.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What business?”
Greg turned back toward me.
“The accidents were never just insurance fraud. The people involved used them to eliminate witnesses, destroy records, and make inconvenient people disappear.”
I thought of Martha standing in the kitchen in 1994, insisting that I wasn't in danger.
“Was my wife one of those people?”
Greg didn't answer immediately.
“Your wife discovered the first operation. She kept evidence, but she never understood how much of it survived. When I found her records, I realized someone had been trying to locate them for years.”
“Did Martha die because of them?”
“I don't know.”
The honesty in his voice hurt more than a lie would have.
He continued.
“I'm sorry. I wanted to find out before I told you. I thought I could bring you the truth instead of another reason to grieve.”
“What happened to Rebecca?”
“She got out of the car.”
“Where did she go?”
“The blue door.”
I leaned closer.
“Where is it?”
“Brookhaven. An old records building. Room seventeen.”
Detective Alvarez wrote it down.
“What's inside?”
“The original evidence. Names, recordings, photographs, payment records. Everything they couldn't destroy.”
“Then we need to get there.”
“No.” Greg's fingers tightened around the blanket. “You don't understand. If Pike knows we have the file, he'll come for it. He'll come for anyone who can lead him to it.”
He looked directly at me.
“Especially Nina.”
I sat motionless.
“Why my daughter?”
Greg closed his eyes.
Because he was weak, I thought. Because he was frightened. Because he had almost died.
Then he whispered the words I had dreaded hearing.
“Because she gave him the key.”
Detective Alvarez stopped writing.
I stared at Greg.
“What key?”
Greg opened his eyes again.
“The one they found in my jacket.”
May you like
He swallowed painfully.
“Nina gave it to Daniel Pike three weeks ago.”
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