Chapter 8 - AMELIA’S CANCER FILE HAD BEEN ALTEREDWarren did not sleep.
Neither did Robert.
They sat in Daniel Knox’s office while a medical-records attorney requested Amelia’s old files.
It took until morning.
The original pathology report existed.
So did treatment records.
Amelia had absolutely been ill.
This was not a fake diagnosis.
That should have brought relief.
It didn’t.
Because one record was missing.
A toxicology panel.
Ordered during Amelia’s second hospitalization after she developed sudden neurological symptoms.
The chart referenced the test.
The result was gone.
Warren stared at the screen.
“What would a toxicology panel have looked for?”
A consulting physician, Dr. Karen Mills, answered carefully.
“Medication interactions. Heavy metals. Environmental exposures.”
“Could poisoning cause cancer?”
“Usually not in the simplistic way you’re asking.”
“Could something worsen her condition?”
“Potentially.”
Robert looked sick.
“Are we seriously discussing poisoning?”
Dr. Mills held up a hand.
“We’re discussing a missing test. Nothing more.”
Warren appreciated the caution.
He needed facts.
Not paranoia.
They found the lab billing record.
The test had been completed.
Someone accessed the result six hours later.
User credentials:
LPIKE.
Leonard Pike.
Then the file was deleted.
Dr. Mills frowned.
“Physicians don’t normally have permission to permanently delete lab results.”
“So someone helped.”
“Possibly.”
Warren asked:
“Can the result be recovered?”
“Maybe from the external laboratory.”
Daniel made calls.
The lab had archived data.
Several hours later, the report arrived.
Amelia’s blood contained elevated levels of a prescription sedative she had not been prescribed.
Not enough to kill.
But enough to cause confusion.
Memory problems.
Falls.
Warren remembered.
Amelia had become forgetful.
She accused him of moving documents.
Lost her phone twice.
Once woke in the kitchen and didn’t remember going downstairs.
Doctors blamed treatment.
Warren believed them.
“Could someone have been drugging her?” he asked.
Dr. Mills answered:
“It’s possible. This result alone doesn’t prove how the medication entered her system.”
Robert looked ready to vomit.
“Who had access to her?”
Warren thought.
Him.
Nurses.
Irene.
Robert.
Amelia’s home health aide.
And—
Gregory Vale visited repeatedly with legal documents.
Monique had not entered Warren’s life yet.
At least not openly.
Then Irene arrived.
Warren had asked her to come because she remembered Amelia’s final months better than anyone.
When he mentioned the missing toxicology test, Irene’s face changed.
“What?”
“You know something.”
She sat.
“Mrs. Carter told me her tea tasted strange.”
Warren stared.
“When?”
“Near the end.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She begged me not to.”
Warren felt anger flare.
“Everyone keeps doing that.”
Irene lowered her eyes.
“She said she didn’t know who to trust.”
That hurt.
“Did she accuse anyone?”
“No.”
“Who made the tea?”
“Usually me.”
Irene looked horrified.
“But I never—”
“I know.”
“Sometimes Mr. Vale brought herbal packets.”
Warren froze.
“Gregory?”
“He said they were from a specialist.”
Robert whispered:
“Oh God.”
“Did Amelia drink them?”
“Sometimes.”
“Where are they?”
“Long gone.”
Warren stood.
Gregory Vale was in the Cayman Islands.
Monique had worked for him.
Pike deleted Amelia’s toxicology report.
Meridian paid Pike’s research company.
The web tightened.
But Warren refused to jump to murder.
Not yet.
Then Elliot’s new psychologist called.
Dr. Greene had uncovered something in Pike’s notes.
“Warren, there’s a repeated phrase.”
“What?”
“‘Maternal emotional instability.’”
“That was fabricated.”
“Yes, but it appears in Amelia Carter’s historical psychiatric consultation too.”
Warren went silent.
“Amelia never saw Pike for psychiatry.”
“According to this file, she did.”
“No.”
“Three appointments.”
“Impossible.”
“Then those records may be false too.”
Warren stared.
Pike had not only altered Elliot’s records.
He had created a history for Amelia.
A narrative.
Emotionally unstable mother.
Aggressive child.
Unreliable family members.
A pattern.
“Why?”
Greene said:
“Medical records can influence legal decisions.”
Warren understood.
If Amelia had appeared mentally unstable before she died, any allegations she made about financial fraud could have been dismissed.
If Elliot appeared unstable now, anything he said about Monique could be dismissed too.
Same strategy.
Different generation.
Discredit the witness.
His phone buzzed.
Police.
They had gone to Dr. Pike’s home.
He was gone.
Office emptied.
Computer removed.
But a neighbor’s doorbell camera showed him leaving at 2:14 a.m.
With Monique.
Warren stood so fast the chair fell.
“What?”
Irene gasped.
Robert stared.
Police continued.
Monique had not been in the guest room that morning.
She had slipped out through the side entrance.
Warren had been so focused on evidence, he had failed to notice.
Again.
“Where did they go?”
“We’re tracking the vehicle.”
“What vehicle?”
“Pike’s.”
A pause.
“Mr. Carter, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Security footage from your house shows Mrs. Carter entering Elliot’s room before she left.”
Warren stopped breathing.
“Irene was outside.”
“She stepped away for less than two minutes to use the restroom.”
His heart started pounding.
“What did Monique do?”
“She didn’t touch Elliot.”
“Then what?”
“She opened his backpack.”
Warren’s skin turned cold.
Police had reviewed the hallway camera.
Monique removed something small.
Then replaced the bag.
“What did she take?”
They couldn’t see clearly.
Warren ran upstairs.
Elliot was safe.
Sleeping.
He checked the backpack.
School books.
Pencils.
Lunch card.
Then he found an empty plastic sleeve.
Label written in Amelia’s handwriting:
Elliot — when you remember the red house.
Warren stared.
“What red house?”
Behind him, Elliot spoke.
“The place Mom took me.”
Warren turned.
The boy was awake.
“When?”
“I was little.”
“How little?”
“Before she got sick.”
“Do you know where?”
Elliot nodded.
“Monique asked me that too.”
Warren felt his blood run cold.
“When?”
“In the basement.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I forgot.”
“Did you?”
Elliot looked toward the window.
May you like
Then whispered:
“No.”
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