Chapter 4 - The Death CertificateThe secret Dad took to his graveI didn't sleep.
At four in the morning, I sat at the kitchen table staring at Dad's death certificate.
The date was printed clearly.
January 18.
Cause of death, cardiac arrest.
Natural causes.
Everything official.
Everything final.
Yet the unknown caller had said one thing.
Your father didn't die when you think he did.
Wade sat across from me.
“Do you remember the night he died?”
“Every second.”
“What time did the hospital call?”
“11:42 p.m.”
“And when did you arrive?”
“12:08.”
Wade stared at the certificate.
“Then why does this say 11:10 p.m.?”
My pulse stopped.
I grabbed the paper.
He pointed to the recorded time of death.
11:10 p.m.
That was before the hospital called.
“That has to be wrong.”
“Maybe.”
“No.”
I stood.
“I remember talking to Dad.”
Wade nodded.
“What did he say?”
“He told me not to worry.”
“Anything else?”
I closed my eyes.
The memory came back.
Dad had sounded frightened.
Not sick.
Frightened.
He said, “Evelyn, lock the ranch office.”
I had asked why.
He told me someone was coming.
Someone he couldn't stop.
I had assumed medication had confused him.
Then the call disconnected.
Twenty minutes later, the hospital called.
I had blamed myself for years.
Now I wondered if I had misunderstood the entire night.
Wade opened his laptop.
“I found another record.”
He turned the screen.
It was a hospital admission log.
Dad had been admitted at 10:54 p.m.
Alive.
At 11:06, the file showed a medication administered.
At 11:10, the record said cardiac arrest.
My stomach turned.
“What medication?”
Wade zoomed in.
“Midazolam.”
“What is that?”
“A sedative.”
I stared at him.
“Dad wasn't supposed to be sedated.”
“No.”
“Who ordered it?”
Wade scrolled.
Nothing.
“Order signature missing.”
I felt cold.
“This was erased.”
He nodded.
“We need the hospital records.”
Before I could answer, the front door opened.
Mom walked in.
Alone.
She looked immaculate.
Cream blouse.
Gold necklace.
Perfect hair.
As if the previous day had never happened.
She stopped when she saw the papers.
“You shouldn't be digging into this.”
I stood.
“What did you do?”
Her eyes hardened.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
She glanced at Wade.
“You've always let him fill your head with suspicion.”
Wade said nothing.
Mom looked at me.
“Your father was sick.”
“He was murdered?”
Her face froze.
Then she laughed.
“Murdered?”
“His hospital record was altered.”
“Don't be ridiculous.”
“You knew the title had changed.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
I placed the deed on the table.
She looked at it.
Then she went pale.
Just like Dale had.
“You found it.”
Not a question.
A confession.
I whispered, “What did Dad know?”
Mom sat down.
For the first time in my life, she looked old.
“He knew Suzanne had made mistakes.”
“What kind of mistakes?”
“She borrowed money.”
“How much?”
Mom didn't answer.
I slammed my palm on the table.
“How much?”
“Six million.”
Silence.
I stared at her.
“What?”
“She thought she could fix it.”
“With the ranch?”
Mom closed her eyes.
“The buyer.”
“Dale?”
Mom nodded.
“Dale offered to cover Suzanne's debts.”
My chest tightened.
“In exchange for what?”
“The ranch.”
Wade spoke.
“How long have they been planning this?”
Mom looked at him.
“Almost three years.”
My entire body went numb.
Three years.
Dad had still been alive.
I thought of every birthday.
Every Thanksgiving.
Every time Suzanne had called me stubborn.
Every time Mom told me not to argue.
They had been planning this while Dad was dying.
I whispered, “Did Dad know?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't he tell me?”
Mom looked at me.
“Because he believed you would choose him.”
“What does that mean?”
“He knew you would try to save the ranch.”
I stepped closer.
“And?”
Mom's voice cracked.
“He didn't trust himself to survive what would happen if you did.”
A strange silence filled the room.
“Mom.”
She looked at me.
“What happened the night Dad died?”
Her lips trembled.
Then she said the one sentence I had feared most.
“I wasn't there.”
I stared.
“Then where were you?”
She lowered her eyes.
“With Suzanne.”
“Where?”
“At Dale Ferris's office.”
I felt the room spin.
Mom had lied about where she was the night Dad died.
May you like
And suddenly, the ranch wasn't the only thing we were investigating.
We were investigating a death.
Related Stories
