Chapter 15 - Patricia’s PaymentThey drove to Patricia’s old house.
Her widower, Glenn, still lived there.
He opened the door confused.
Then frightened when Margaret showed him the payment record.
“I don’t know anything about Halcyon.”
Margaret believed him.
Glenn had spent thirty-five years teaching high school history.
He hated finance.
He barely knew what Ethan did.
“Did Patricia ever mention Arthur Vale?”
“No.”
“Victoria Langford?”
“No.”
“Charles Whitmore?”
Nothing.
Ethan asked, “Did she receive seventy-five thousand dollars shortly before Uncle Daniel died?”
Glenn’s face changed.
Margaret saw it.
“You knew.”
“Not what it was.”
“What did she tell you?”
Glenn sat.
“She said it was consulting income.”
Margaret almost laughed.
“Patricia was a nurse.”
“I know.”
“She consulted for who?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“What happened to the money?”
“Paid off our mortgage.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
Patricia had always struggled financially.
Two children in college.
Medical bills.
A mortgage.
Seventy-five thousand dollars could have felt like rescue.
“What did she do?”
Glenn began crying.
“I don’t know.”
“You lived with her.”
“She changed after Daniel died.”
“How?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Did she feel guilty?”
“Yes.”
Margaret’s stomach dropped.
Glenn went upstairs.
Returned with a small envelope.
“She told me to burn this after she died.”
“You didn’t.”
“I couldn’t.”
Inside was a handwritten note.
Margaret recognized Patricia’s writing.
Maggie,
If you ever learn what I did, I need you to know I thought I was helping.
Margaret stopped reading.
Her hands shook.
Ethan took the letter.
Continued.
A man from Daniel’s company contacted me. He said Daniel had become paranoid and was taking dangerous amounts of medication. He asked me to verify whether certain pills would appear in an autopsy.
Margaret felt sick.
Patricia had been asked about beta blockers.
She had provided medical information.
Not poison.
Information.
The letter continued.
I never gave Daniel anything. I never touched his food or drink. I swear to you.
Margaret exhaled.
But then came the final lines.
After Daniel died, the same man told me to make sure the hospital did not request an extended toxicology panel. I spoke to someone I knew. I said the family did not want delays. I told myself I was protecting you from an unnecessary investigation.
Margaret began sobbing.
Patricia had helped bury the evidence.
Not because she wanted Daniel dead.
Because someone manipulated her.
Paid her.
Used her medical knowledge.
Then used her guilt.
“Who contacted her?”
Ethan searched the pages.
No name.
Glenn whispered, “There was a voicemail.”
Everyone looked at him.
“What voicemail?”
“I saved her old phone.”
He retrieved it from a drawer.
Dead battery.
They charged it.
Old messages remained.
Most meaningless.
Then one.
Male voice.
“Patricia, this is C. We spoke yesterday. I appreciate your discretion. Daniel’s family does not need more pain.”
Margaret knew the voice.
Charles.
Ethan stood so fast the chair scraped.
“He used her.”
Glenn covered his face.
Margaret stared at the phone.
Charles had claimed he merely watched Daniel die.
Now they had proof he had also manipulated Patricia afterward to suppress testing.
Perhaps before.
Ethan called Rebecca.
Charles’s charges expanded within hours.
But Margaret still felt something wrong.
“What?”
Ethan looked at her.
She shook her head.
“Charles asked Patricia about medication before Daniel died.”
“Yes.”
“He knew what Arthur was planning.”
Silence.
Ethan’s face changed.
“He may have known about the poisoning.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe he didn’t administer it.”
“No.”
“But he knew.”
Margaret nodded.
The distinction mattered legally.
Emotionally, it barely mattered.
They returned to Ethan’s apartment that evening.
Victoria was there with Rebecca under police supervision.
Ethan placed Patricia’s letter on the table.
Victoria read it.
Her face changed.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“You said Charles was worse than Arthur.”
“I knew he covered things.”
“You didn’t know this?”
“No.”
Margaret watched her.
“Did Arthur tell you he was going to poison Daniel?”
Victoria closed her eyes.
“No.”
“Did you suspect?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Too late.”
“What does that mean?”
Victoria began crying.
“When Daniel arrived at the garage, Arthur had a coffee for him.”
Margaret’s heart tightened.
“He drank it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know something was in it?”
“Not then.”
“Then what?”
“Arthur kept watching him drink.”
Victoria looked nauseated.
“I knew Arthur.”
“I knew something was wrong.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I was scared.”
Margaret stared.
Fear.
Always fear.
“You had a daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Arthur controlled you.”
“Yes.”
“You thought if you helped Daniel, Arthur would take Rebecca.”
“Yes.”
Margaret sat.
She wanted to hate Victoria simply.
It would have been easier.
But lives rarely arranged themselves that neatly.
Victoria had suffered.
Then harmed others.
Had been controlled.
Then became controlling.
Had once been threatened through her child.
Then threatened Margaret through Ethan.
Pain had traveled forward.
Margaret looked at her.
“Do you know why I knelt?”
Victoria’s eyes lowered.
“Because I threatened Ethan.”
“Yes.”
Margaret leaned forward.
“You knew exactly what you were doing.”
Victoria’s face crumpled.
Because she did.
She had once made her own choices under a threat aimed at someone she loved.
Then, twenty years later, she used the same weapon on Margaret.
“I’m sorry.”
Margaret nodded.
“I believe you.”
Victoria looked surprised.
“That does not mean I forgive you.”
Victoria looked down.
Margaret continued.
“You learned cruelty from powerful people.”
She touched her cheek.
“But when you slapped me, Arthur Vale was already dead.”
Victoria began crying harder.
May you like
Margaret’s voice remained steady.
“That choice belonged to you.”
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