Chapter 4 - The Doctor Who Signed the Death Certificate
Dr. Malcolm Voss had signed Nora Reed’s death certificate eight years earlier.
Tessa had not seen him since the funeral.
According to public records, Voss had retired to Arizona five years ago.
According to airport data Grant pulled within minutes, he had flown into Chicago two days earlier under his own name.
According to the security footage, he had walked through Damian’s greenhouse at one in the morning like a man who already knew the property.
Tessa paced Damian’s study.
“He told us Nora’s cancer had spread too fast. He said the experimental treatment gave her a chance.”
Damian’s expression hardened. “What treatment?”
Tessa laughed once, without humor. “You really don’t know?”
She pulled out her phone and found a photo of Nora. Twenty-six. Bald from chemotherapy. Smiling anyway.
Behind her hospital bed was a blue folder.
VALE THERAPEUTICS - COMPASSIONATE ACCESS PROGRAM.
Damian felt something inside him break loose.
His father had founded Vale Therapeutics. Damian had sold most of the pharmaceutical division after inheriting the company, convinced the business was too corrupt to fix.
But he had never seen Nora’s name.
Tessa watched his face.
“You knew the company.”
“I knew the company had lawsuits.”
“My sister wasn’t a lawsuit.”
“I didn’t say she was.”
“You paid settlements.”
“My lawyers did.”
“That’s supposed to make it better?”
“No.” Damian’s voice sharpened. “It makes me stupid.”
That answer stopped her.
He opened the sealed R-17 file on his laptop. Rows of patient identification numbers appeared, most names redacted.
Tessa leaned closer.
Nora Reed was not there.
Beatrice, sitting quietly by the window, suddenly said, “They changed the names.”
Damian turned.
“What?”
“Patients became numbers. Numbers became ghosts.”
Tessa knelt beside her. “Was Nora one of them?”
Beatrice looked at the photo.
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Tessa’s breath caught.
“Did you know her?”
“I held her hand when she begged them to stop the infusion.”
Tessa stumbled backward.
Damian felt sick.
Beatrice continued before either of them could speak.
“Dr. Voss told her the pain meant the medicine was working.”
Tessa covered her mouth.
“And was it?”
Beatrice shook her head.
“No.”
A knock sounded at the study door.
Grant entered with two guards.
“We found Voss.”
“Where?” Damian asked.
Grant’s face was grim.
“In the old chapel foundation.”
Tessa stared at him.
“Alive?”
Grant hesitated.
“Barely.”
Then he held up a bloodstained envelope.
“He had this taped to his chest.”
May you like
Across the front, written in shaky black ink, were four words.
FOR DAMIAN. FROM YOUR MOTHER.
