Chapter 7 - The Signature
The death authorization had my name on it.
Margaret Elise Ashford.
My signature.
Except I had never signed it.
Sarah obtained a certified copy from an off-site state archive that afternoon. The hospital records had not all burned after all. Some had been scanned months before the fire during a system migration.
The form stated that I had viewed my daughter's remains, confirmed identity, and authorized cremation.
I read the sentence three times.
"I was unconscious," I said. "They sedated me after the fire."
Sarah nodded. "Your medical chart confirms heavy sedation from 3:10 a.m. until the following evening."
Emily sat across from me, anger slowly replacing shock.
"So somebody forged your name."
"Yes."
The witness line carried another signature.
Evelyn Crane, R.N.
Daniel recognized it immediately.
"She was the night nurse in maternity."
Detective Lena Brooks searched the old personnel records.
Evelyn Crane had resigned four days after the fire.
Her forwarding address led to an empty house in Ohio.
Then Daniel remembered something.
"She drove a green Buick," he said. "Old thing. Huge dent on the passenger door."
Brooks pulled traffic-camera archives from a nearby intersection that had been preserved as part of the original fire investigation.
At 2:37 a.m., a green Buick left the hospital area.
At 4:06 a.m., a similar vehicle passed a toll plaza headed toward St. Anne's.
The driver's face was blurred.
But the passenger was not.
Thomas.
I stared at the grainy image until my eyes burned.
Emily stood and walked to the window.
"He took me there."
I wanted to deny it for her sake.
I couldn't.
That evening, I finally returned to the Ashford house with Sarah and two detectives. Thomas was gone, but his study had been locked.
He had never locked it before.
Police did not yet have a warrant.
I did not need one to enter my own room in my own home.
I used the emergency key from the kitchen drawer.
The study looked spotless.
Too spotless.
His computer was missing.
Two filing drawers were empty.
But behind a row of law books, I found a loose panel.
Inside was a small black notebook.
Most pages were financial figures I did not understand.
Then I reached October 2008.
One line was underlined twice.
E.C. - 250K after transfer. No contact after St. A.
Below it was another note.
M must believe cremation complete.
Emily read over my shoulder.
"Who's M?"
I already knew.
Me.
May you like
Then the front door alarm chimed.
Thomas was home.
