Chapter 3
The doctors took blood, urine, and hair samples.
I sat in a private hospital room with Detective Ortiz beside me.
Mia waited in the hallway.
Claire and Ava were with her.
Jonathan and Eleanor had been taken to the police station for separate interviews.
Neither had been arrested.
Not yet.
“Tell me about the country house,” Ortiz said.
“It belonged to Eleanor’s parents. We use it during the summer.”
“Who has access?”
“Eleanor, Jonathan, Claire, and me.”
“Your attorney?”
“Stephen has visited, but he should not have a key.”
“Should not?”
“Eleanor may have given him one.”
Ortiz wrote that down.
“Why did your granddaughter describe a locked basement room?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been there in four months.”
“Why not?”
“Eleanor said there was water damage.”
“Did you verify that?”
“No.”
The answer embarrassed me.
I had spent forty years building companies.
I questioned every contract.
I demanded proof before making decisions.
Yet inside my own marriage, I accepted whatever Eleanor told me because it was easier than wondering why she might lie.
A doctor entered.
His name was Dr. Patel.
His expression was serious.
“Mr. Sterling, preliminary testing found a sedative in your blood.”
“I haven’t taken a sedative.”
“When was your last drink?”
“Before leaving home. One glass of whiskey.”
“Who prepared it?”
My mouth went dry.
“Eleanor.”
Dr. Patel continued.
“The amount in your system is not immediately dangerous, but it would cause confusion, slowed judgment, and memory problems.”
Detective Ortiz leaned forward.
“Could repeated doses make someone appear mentally impaired?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“That depends on the drug and amount. We need additional testing.”
I thought about all the times Eleanor corrected my memories.
The contracts she told me I had signed.
The doctors she insisted I visit.
The way she watched me whenever I spoke at family dinners.
She was not simply drugging me.
She was teaching everyone around me to doubt me.
Dr. Patel examined my recent medical records.
Then he frowned.
“You were diagnosed with early cognitive decline?”
“Eleanor’s neurologist said the tests were inconclusive.”
“This record says the diagnosis was confirmed.”
“It wasn’t.”
He turned the screen toward me.
The report recommended that Eleanor receive medical power of attorney.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
I had never seen it.
“That is forged.”
Ortiz photographed the document.
“Who uploaded it?”
Dr. Patel checked.
“Dr. Vincent Monroe.”
The neurologist Eleanor had chosen.
I closed my eyes.
Another person I had trusted.
Ortiz stepped into the hallway to call for a warrant.
I asked to speak with Mia.
She entered cautiously.
Without the restaurant uniform, she looked younger than I first thought.
She could not have been more than twenty-five.
“You said your mother saw Eleanor putting pills in my tea.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Seven months ago.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She tried.”
I stared at her.
“When?”
“Your birthday party.”
I remembered Rosa approaching me near the study.
She said she needed to discuss something important.
Before she could, Eleanor interrupted.
The next morning, Eleanor claimed Rosa had stolen a diamond bracelet.
The bracelet was later found in Rosa’s purse.
“I called the police on your mother.”
Mia looked down.
“Yes.”
“I believed Eleanor.”
“My mother knew you would.”
“Was the bracelet planted?”
“Yes.”
“Can she prove it?”
“She couldn’t then.”
“What changed?”
Mia reached into her pocket.
“My mother placed a small recorder in the kitchen after she saw the pills.”
“Where is it?”
“Eleanor found it. But before she did, it uploaded one file to my mother’s phone.”
“Do you have the file?”
“Yes.”
Mia opened her phone.
The recording began with kitchen noises.
Then Eleanor’s voice.
“How much longer?”
A man answered.
Dr. Monroe.
“At this dose, his family will notice confusion within weeks.”
“And the tests?”
“I’ll interpret them the way we discussed.”
“What if Richard seeks another opinion?”
“He won’t. You’ll convince him he already forgot the diagnosis.”
The recording ended.
I felt physically ill.
“Why didn’t you bring this to the police?”
“My mother was scared. Dr. Monroe threatened to report her immigration status.”
“Is she undocumented?”
“No. But he said he could make the government believe anything.”
“Where is your mother now?”
Mia’s eyes filled with tears.
“She disappeared three weeks ago.”
I stood too quickly.
The room tilted.
Dr. Patel helped me back into bed.
“Disappeared?”
“She left for work and never came home.”
“Did you report it?”
“Yes. The police said she may have left voluntarily.”
“Did she?”
“She would never leave my younger brother.”
Detective Ortiz returned during the final sentence.
Her expression sharpened.
“What is your mother’s full name?”
“Rosa Elena Torres.”
Ortiz made another call.
Then she listened to the recording.
“This changes the case.”
“Can you find her?” Mia asked.
“We will try.”
I looked at Mia.
“Why were you working at the restaurant tonight?”
“I followed Eleanor.”
“You followed her?”
“She visited the restaurant yesterday. My mother’s phone records showed calls with someone employed there. I thought it might be connected.”
“You took a job in one day?”
“My friend normally works private events. I covered her shift.”
“Did you know Eleanor planned to hurt me?”
“No. I saw her enter the pantry. I watched her mark the decanter and place something in her purse. Then I checked the camera.”
“You risked your job and possibly your life.”
“I couldn’t watch another person disappear.”
Before I could answer, Ortiz’s phone rang.
She listened for several seconds.
Then she looked at me.
“Officers reached your country house.”
“What did they find?”
“The basement room exists.”
“What is inside?”
“Medical equipment, copies of your financial records, and dozens of bottles prescribed in your name.”
Mia covered her mouth.
Ortiz continued.
“They also found a hospital bed.”
“For me?”
“We don’t know.”
“Where are Eleanor and Jonathan?”
“Eleanor stopped cooperating. Jonathan is asking for an attorney.”
“Stephen?”
“Still missing.”
My phone rang.
The screen showed Stephen Blake’s name.
Ortiz signaled for me to answer on speaker.
I did.
“Stephen?”
His breathing was loud.
“Richard, listen carefully. Eleanor is lying to everyone.”
“Where are you?”
“She planned the wine. I tried to stop her.”
“You ran.”
“Because Jonathan threatened me.”
Across the room, Claire shook her head.
Stephen continued.
“They were going to take you to Connecticut after dinner. They planned to claim you had suffered a mental breakdown.”
“What was the hospital bed for?”
“You.”
“Why?”
“To keep you sedated until Eleanor took control of the company.”
“And the wine?”
“She changed the plan.”
“Why?”
“Because she found out the new will had been signed.”
“You told her.”
Silence.
“Stephen?”
“I made a mistake.”
“You revealed confidential information to my wife.”
“She already knew you suspected her.”
“How?”
“Claire told her.”
I looked at my daughter.
Claire’s face collapsed.
“That’s not true,” she said.
Stephen heard her.
“She’s with you?”
“Yes.”
“Do not trust her.”
Claire grabbed the phone.
“You liar! You called me yesterday and said Dad was dying!”
“Because Eleanor told me—”
A crash sounded through the speaker.
Stephen grunted.
Then a man’s voice spoke in the background.
“You should have kept driving.”
The call ended.
Ortiz immediately requested a location trace.
Claire was shaking.
“He told me Dad had six months to live.”
“When?” I asked.
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Stephen said you didn’t want the family to know.”
“What else did he say?”
“He said Mom needed temporary control of your shares to protect the company.”
“Did you sign anything?”
Claire began crying.
“Yes.”
My heart sank.
“What did you sign?”
“A family voting agreement.”
Detective Ortiz turned toward her.
“Where is it?”
“Stephen has it.”
Ortiz’s phone vibrated.
The call had been traced.
Stephen’s phone was near the Hudson River.
Police found his car twenty minutes later.
The driver’s door was open.
Blood covered the seat.
May you like
Stephen was gone.
And in the trunk, officers found Rosa Torres’s missing handbag.
