Chapter 7: The Death Certificate
I read the message three times before the words began to make sense.
Ask Richard why Evelyn's death certificate was amended three days after her funeral.
For nine years, I had believed my mother died from complications following a sudden illness. My father had told me she had suffered a medical emergency, been rushed to the hospital, and never recovered. Vanessa had handled the funeral arrangements while I sat in a bedroom clutching my mother's favorite cardigan.
There had been no mystery.
No unanswered questions.
No reason to doubt what I had been told.
Until now.
I stood in the doorway of the blue room, rainwater dripping from my coat, while Vanessa watched me read the message.
"Who sent that?"" she demanded.
"I don't know.""
"Give me your phone.""
"No.""
She stepped closer.
"Nia, whatever someone has told you, they're trying to manipulate you. Your mother was sick. We all knew that.""
"Then why was her death certificate amended?""
The color drained from her face.
It was only a flicker, a momentary loss of composure, but I saw it.
"You don't know what you're talking about.""
"That's what you said about the trust. You said the document was invalid, but it wasn't.""
"Your mother was seriously ill. There were administrative mistakes.""
"What mistakes?""
Vanessa grabbed her handbag.
"Ask your father.""
"I intend to.""
"Then stop standing here interrogating me.""
She pushed past me and hurried toward the exit.
I followed her into the hallway.
"Vanessa!""
She stopped beneath a flickering ceiling light.
"What?""
"Did my mother know you were stealing her designs before she died?""
Vanessa's mouth tightened.
"She knew enough to make everyone's life miserable.""
"And did she know Dad had signed the agreement?""
For a moment, Vanessa looked almost frightened.
Then she straightened her coat.
"Your father loved your mother. Whatever happened between them was complicated.""
"That's not an answer.""
"It's the only one you're getting.""
She walked out into the rain.
I remained in the doorway, watching her disappear into the darkness.
My phone vibrated again.
This time, the message contained an address and a name.
*Dr. Samuel Whitaker. Former medical examiner.*
Beneath it was another line.
He handled Evelyn Carter's original case. He kept a copy of the first report.
I called the number immediately.
A man's voice answered after several rings.
"Hello?""
"Dr. Whitaker? My name is Nia Carter.
My mother was Evelyn Carter. She died nine years ago, and I need to ask you about her death certificate.""
Silence.
Then he said, "Who gave you my number?""
"I don't know. Someone sent it anonymously.""
"Did they tell you about the amendment?""
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"Yes.""
I heard him exhale.
"Then the time has come.""
"Come for what?""
"To learn what happened to your mother.""
He gave me an address in a quiet neighborhood outside the city and told me to come alone the following morning.
Before hanging up, he added one warning.
"Miss Carter, whatever you discover, do not confront your father until you've seen the original report.""
Then the line went dead.
I drove home through the rain with my mother's notebook on the passenger seat and a hundred questions tearing through my mind.
The house was dark when I arrived.
Except for the kitchen.
Dad sat at the table beneath the yellow pendant light, still wearing the clothes he'd had on earlier. A mug of coffee sat untouched beside him.
He looked up when I entered.
"Where have you been?""
I placed the trust document on the table.
"The blue room.""
His face went white.
For several seconds, he stared at the paper without touching it.
Then he lowered his head into his hands.
"Oh, Evelyn.""
I had never heard him say her name like that.
Not with guilt.
Not with fear.
"Did you know Mom left me the studio?"" I asked.
He nodded slowly.
"Yes.""
"Did you know Vanessa had been using her designs?""
"Yes.""
"Did you sign the licensing agreement?""
He swallowed.
"Yes.""
The answers came so easily that I almost wished he would lie.
"Why?""
Dad looked toward the dark window.
"Your mother's business was struggling. We had debts, suppliers demanding payment, and investors who wanted a guarantee that the company would make money. Vanessa said she could negotiate a licensing deal that would keep the studio open.""
"Without Mom's permission?""
"She told me Evelyn would eventually agree.""
"But she didn't.""
"No.""
"Then you knew the agreement was fraudulent.""
He closed his eyes.
"I knew something wasn't right.""
"That's not the same as saying no.""
"I was afraid we'd lose everything.""
I stared at him.
"You let me believe Mom had left me nothing.""
"I thought I was protecting you.""
"From what? Her own work?""
He flinched.
I pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.
"Someone sent me a message about Mom's death certificate.""
His head snapped up.
"What message?""
"Why was it amended three days after her funeral?""
The mug slipped from his fingers.
Coffee spread across the table, darkening the edge of the trust document.
Dad didn't seem to notice.
"Who told you that?""
"Answer me.""
He stood abruptly.
"You need to stop digging into this.""
I rose too.
"You don't get to tell me that anymore.""
"Nia, please.""
"Was Mom's death certificate changed?""
He looked at me, and I watched nine years of carefully constructed silence collapse behind his eyes.
"Yes.""
My throat tightened.
"Why?""
Dad gripped the back of his chair.
"The original report listed complications related to her illness. The amended certificate included an additional contributing factor.""
"What factor?""
He shook his head.
"I didn't understand all the medical language.""
"Then tell me what you do understand.""
His voice cracked.
"Your mother had been under tremendous stress. She was sleeping very little, barely eating, and fighting with Vanessa constantly. The doctors said her condition had deteriorated rapidly.""
"That doesn't explain the amendment.""
"No.""
"Did Vanessa have something to do with it?""
He didn't answer.
I felt sick.
"Did you?""
Dad sank into his chair.
"I signed a statement after she died.""
"What statement?""
"Vanessa said the insurance company needed clarification about the business debts and the circumstances surrounding your mother's death. She brought me papers to sign. I was grieving. I didn't read everything.""
I stepped backward.
"You signed documents about your wife's death without reading them?""
"I know how that sounds.""
"It sounds like you didn't care enough to ask what happened to her.""
His eyes filled with tears.
"I loved your mother.""
"Then why didn't you protect her?""
The question hung between us.
Dad looked down at his hands.
"I don't have an answer that will make you forgive me.""
For the first time, I believed him.
He wasn't going to explain his way out of this.
He was simply a man who had chosen the easier path until every choice had become another betrayal.
I picked up my bag.
"Where are you going?"" he asked.
"To find out what happened to Mom.""
"Nia, wait.""
I turned.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver key.
"I should have given you this years ago.""
I stared at it.
"What does it open?""
"Your mother's safe-deposit box. I kept the key after she died. Vanessa never knew I had it.""
I took the key.
"Why didn't you give it to me when I turned eighteen?""
He struggled to meet my eyes.
"Because I was afraid of what you'd find.""
My fingers closed around the cold metal.
"What will I find?""
He whispered, "The truth about the last night your mother was alive.""
I stood motionless.
Then my phone rang.
The caller ID displayed an unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice spoke quickly.
"Is this Nia Carter?""
"Yes.""
"My name is Patricia Lewis. I was your mother's nurse at Grady Memorial Hospital.""
I gripped the phone.
"How did you get my number?""
"Someone told me you were asking questions. I've wanted to contact you for years, but I was afraid.""
"Afraid of whom?""
She hesitated.
"Your stepmother.""
My heart began pounding.
"What happened to my mother?""
The nurse lowered her voice.
"Your mother was conscious when she arrived at the hospital. She kept asking for you. She also kept asking the staff to contact someone named Marcus Bennett.""
I glanced at the trust document.
"Marcus?""
"Yes. She said he had the original papers. She was very frightened, Miss Carter.""
"Frightened of what?""
The nurse was silent for a moment.
Then she said, "Before your mother lost consciousness, she told me that someone had given her the wrong medication.""
The room seemed to tilt.
I looked at my father.
He had heard every word.
And the expression on his face told me he already knew what the nurse was about to say next.
"Miss Carter," Patricia whispered, "your mother's death was not as straightforward as the family was told.""
Then she gave me a date.
The date on which my mother had been admitted to the hospital.
And the date on which the official record said she had died.
They were not the same.
There were six hours missing.
May you like
Six hours no one had ever explained.
Six hours my father had spent telling me that my mother was already gone.
