Chapter 12 - The Woman Who Used Margaret’s NameAt three that afternoon, David called Dr. Harlan’s office.
The receptionist refused to discuss records.
David expected that.
What he did not expect was Dr. Harlan himself calling back twenty minutes later.
“I understand there may be a serious problem.”
David put the phone on speaker.
Margaret and Rachel sat beside him.
“What problem?”
Harlan sounded uneasy.
“I evaluated your mother on July twenty-ninth.”
Margaret immediately shook her head.
“No, you didn’t.”
Silence.
Then Harlan said, “Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“You’re there?”
“I am.”
Another pause.
Harlan lowered his voice.
“I need you to come to my office.”
“Why?”
“Because if you are Margaret Mercer…”
Margaret looked at David.
“If?”
Harlan exhaled.
“The woman I evaluated was introduced to me as Margaret Mercer.”
David felt the room contract.
“What did she look like?”
“Approximately seventy. Silver-gray hair. Thin. Beige cardigan.”
Margaret touched her short silver hair.
Vanessa knew exactly how she dressed.
“Did you know my mother personally?” David asked.
“I met her several times years ago.”
“Wouldn’t you recognize her?”
“I believed I did.”
Harlan sounded ashamed.
“The appointment was brief. Your wife brought her in. She said Margaret had changed significantly after illness.”
Margaret whispered, “I was never there.”
Harlan continued.
“The patient appeared confused, gave inconsistent answers, failed memory screening questions, and became agitated.”
David understood.
Someone had performed confusion.
“Did she show identification?”
“Vanessa handled the paperwork.”
“Did you photograph the patient?”
“No.”
“Security cameras?”
Harlan paused.
“The building lobby has cameras.”
David looked at Rachel.
Hope.
Officer Brooks obtained the footage later that evening.
David watched it at the station.
Vanessa entered the clinic at 9:12 a.m.
Beside her walked an elderly woman.
Same height as Margaret.
Similar build.
Short silver wig.
Beige sweater.
Dark trousers.
From a distance, the resemblance was astonishing.
Up close, it vanished.
David stared at the paused image.
“I don’t know her.”
Rachel leaned closer.
“I do.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Who?”
Rachel pointed at the screen.
“Her name is Gloria.”
“Gloria who?”
“She used to work for Vanessa’s mother.”
David stared.
“What?”
“Housekeeper or caregiver. Years ago.”
Officer Brooks made a note.
Rachel looked sick.
“She came to Vanessa’s mother’s funeral.”
Vanessa’s mother had died four years earlier.
David barely remembered the attendees.
He remembered an older woman hugging Vanessa near the cemetery.
Maybe Gloria.
Brooks began searching.
The impersonation transformed the case.
Fraud.
False medical records.
Potential conspiracy.
But David could not celebrate.
Every discovery revealed planning more elaborate than the last.
Vanessa had found an elderly woman willing to impersonate Margaret.
She had dressed her similarly.
Taken her to a respected doctor.
Created genuine documentation based on a fake patient.
Then used that documentation to support admission to memory care.
This had not been a sudden idea.
It had been a project.
That night, David returned home exhausted.
Margaret sat at the dining table staring at untouched soup.
“You have to eat.”
She looked at him.
“I’m not hungry.”
David sat across from her.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not seeing it.”
Margaret looked down.
“You trusted your wife.”
“I ignored signs.”
“You were working.”
“That’s an excuse.”
Margaret reached across the table.
“You loved her.”
David almost corrected the tense.
Then stopped.
Loved.
Past.
“When did you realize she was dangerous?”
Margaret was quiet.
“Not until today.”
“The freezer?”
“No.”
David frowned.
“What then?”
“When she asked me where the second copy was.”
“What second copy?”
Margaret looked confused.
Then alarmed.
“The recorder?”
“No.”
She stood abruptly.
“Mom?”
Margaret moved toward her room.
David followed.
She opened the closet and pulled out an old suitcase.
Inside were personal papers.
Birth certificate.
Marriage certificate.
Thomas’s death certificate.
Then she froze.
“What?”
“It’s gone.”
“What’s gone?”
“My letter.”
David’s stomach tightened.
“What letter?”
Margaret sat heavily on the bed.
“Your father wrote it before he died.”
“To you?”
“To the trustees.”
“What did it say?”
Margaret looked up.
“He warned us.”
“About what?”
“About changing the trust.”
David stared.
“Why would Vanessa want it?”
“Because it explains a clause.”
“What clause?”
Margaret spoke carefully.
“If anyone attempts to manipulate, coerce, or fraudulently remove a trustee…”
“Yes?”
“The trust freezes.”
“For how long?”
“Until a court reviews everything.”
David began to understand.
“If the trust freezes, Vanessa can’t get the money.”
“No one can.”
“Then why steal the letter?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Because the letter contains something else.”
“What?”
“A name.”
David’s pulse quickened.
“Whose?”
Margaret looked frightened.
“The alternate trustee.”
David waited.
“Who is it?”
Margaret swallowed.
“Andrew Blake.”
David stared at her.
“Vanessa’s brother?”
“Yes.”
Nothing made sense.
“Why would Dad name Andrew?”
“He didn’t.”
Margaret’s voice trembled.
“Andrew Blake isn’t Vanessa’s brother’s real name.”
David felt a chill crawl across his skin.
“What are you talking about?”
Margaret opened an old photograph album.
She flipped several pages.
Then stopped at a picture taken more than twenty years earlier.
Thomas Mercer stood beside a much younger man.
David leaned closer.
The man looked familiar.
Same eyes.
Same jaw.
Andrew.
On the back, in Thomas’s handwriting, were four words.
Thomas and Daniel Ellison, 2003.
David read the name again.
Ellison.
He looked up.
“Mark?”
May you like
Margaret nodded slowly.
“Andrew is Mark’s half-brother.”
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