Chapter 7 - The Dead Man's WitnessThe police took me to the county station in handcuffs.
I asked for a lawyer. They refused to let Evelyn represent me until an officer finished questioning me, and they confiscated my belongings, including the brass key.
Detective Malcolm Reed stood behind the interview room's one-way mirror.
I knew he was watching.
When he finally entered, he carried a thin folder and wore the same immaculate expression he'd worn during my trial.
“Bad luck follows you, Dennis.”
“Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”
He sat opposite me.
“Silas Bennett was found dead near the cemetery chapel. Witnesses saw your vehicle in the area. His blood was found on your jacket.”
“I wasn't wearing a jacket.”
Reed paused.
It was brief, but I caught it.
“Correction,” he said. “Blood was found on a jacket recovered nearby.”
“Whose jacket?”
He ignored the question.
“Silas had been cooperating with an investigation into your father's death. It's unfortunate that he won't be testifying.”
I leaned forward.
“You know my father isn't dead.”
Reed's face remained perfectly still.
That was answer enough.
“You've known all along,” I said. “You knew Reagan fabricated the death. You knew I was framed. You helped them.”
Reed closed the folder.
“Careful, Finnley.”
“No. You spent three years telling everyone I was a thief. Now you've decided I'm a murderer. What else have you planned for me?”
He leaned across the table.
“Your father was a powerful man. Powerful men attract enemies. When Camden became a liability, his family made arrangements.”
“Arrangements to kill him?”
“I didn't say that.”
“But you implied it.”
Reed stood.
“Here's some advice. Sign a confession for Silas's murder. Reagan has offered to cover your legal expenses and arrange a reduced sentence.”
I almost laughed.
“Three years wasn't enough? She wants another few decades?”
“She's offering you a way out.”
“No. She's offering me another cage.”
His expression darkened.
“You have no idea what she's capable of.”
“I have a pretty good idea. She kept my father sedated in a private medical facility while telling the world he was dead.”
Reed's eyes flickered toward the camera.
There it was.
Fear.
Not of me. Not of justice.
Fear of the people who would punish him if he failed.
He slipped a folded paper beneath the folder.
“Think carefully before you make any more accusations.”
Then he left.
I waited several minutes before opening the paper.
It contained a name, an address, and four words.
BELLWEATHER FACILITY. ROOM 17.
Beneath it was a handwritten note.
YOUR FATHER IS NOT THE ONLY PATIENT.
I read the sentence again.
Before I could work out what it meant, the door opened. A young officer entered carrying a clipboard.
“Your attorney secured your release.”
“Evelyn?”
“Yes. Your bail was posted ten minutes ago.”
He removed my handcuffs, returned my backpack, and escorted me outside.
Evelyn waited at the curb.
“I thought you'd be happy to see me,” I said.
“I'll be happy when you stop putting yourself in situations that require bail.”
I showed her Reed's note.
She read it, then glanced at the road behind us.
“Bellweather isn't a hospital,” she said. “It's a privately owned neurological care facility. It was never publicly listed as a destination for Briarwood's former patients.”
“Can we get inside?”
“Not legally without evidence or a court order.”
“Then let's find evidence.”
She looked at me for a long moment.
“There's something else you need to know. I called the cemetery this morning. Silas's death was reported, but his body was removed before the medical examiner arrived. The officer who signed the removal order was working under Reed.”
“So they can make Silas disappear, too?”
Evelyn's phone rang.
She answered, listened, and slowly lowered it.
“What happened?” I asked.
“The hospital has confirmed that Silas was never admitted.”
“But we have a photograph of him bleeding.”
“I know.”
May you like
She looked at me with a terrible understanding.
“Someone is trying to make sure there's no official record of who died in that cemetery last night.”
Related Stories
