Chapter 9 - A Witness in Burgundy
I'd known Sylvia since I was nine. She'd taught me to fold paper airplanes during board dinners while my father talked about investments. She had also been the woman who hugged me at Mara's funeral and said there were no words.
Tonight I had plenty.
"You watched me bury her."
Sylvia dismissed the security men with a glance. Two hesitated until she reminded them that the hospital, not the foundation, controlled access to the service wing.
"I watched you bury an empty casket," she said. "I didn't learn that until three days later."
"And you said nothing?"
"I tried. Arthur told me you were under psychiatric care and couldn't handle another shock. He showed me paperwork with your signature. I was a coward, Evan. I accepted it."
Her voice broke, but I felt no urge to comfort her.
"What changed?"
"An accountant at the hospital died last week. Before he did, he sent me invoices that didn't match patient admissions. Briar Glen billed us for treatments people never received. Your foundation reimbursed the charges as charitable care."
Nora straightened. "Mara kept asking about numbers. She remembered numbers before she remembered the crash."
Sylvia nodded.
"She had been auditing the program. Your father's staff called it a misunderstanding. After her accident, her report vanished."
"You were in the ballroom," I said. "Why didn't you talk to me?"
"Vivian stayed between us all night. And I wanted to know whether you'd already been told the truth."
I hated that she had believed I might choose money over my wife. I hated more that I had built a life in which the possibility didn't sound absurd.
Simone spoke through the phone. "Mrs. Voss, I need you to preserve those invoices and provide a sworn statement. No forwarding confidential patient files without authorization. We need this to survive court."
Sylvia agreed. Then she reached into her purse and took out a photograph. Mara stood outside the hospital's west service door beside a man in a gray coat.
"That's Dr. Quill," Nora said. "Briar Glen's director."
I looked closer.
May you like
The man beside him, half hidden in the shadow of a parked car, was my father.
On the back, in Mara's handwriting, were the words: He was here before the crash.
