Samuel's car was parked beneath a broken streetlamp near the river.
The driver's door was unlocked.
The interior smelled damp.
Police photographed everything before touching it.
There was no blood.
No body.
No obvious sign of a struggle.
But the passenger seat contained a torn envelope.
The name DANIEL was written across it.
I looked at Peter.
“He was carrying this.”
Peter nodded.
The officer opened the envelope carefully.
Inside was a photograph.
Daniel stood beside Samuel.
The date was October 14.
The night before Daniel died.
On the back were coordinates.
Nothing else.
The officer entered them into his phone.
“They point to an old boathouse.”
Peter went pale.
“I know that place.”
“What is it?”
“Where Daniel kept his car sometimes.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“He didn't want anyone tracking him.”
The officer searched the trunk.
Inside were clothes, tools, and a small medical bag.
No identification.
No phone.
Then he found a second photograph.
This one showed Daniel leaving our house.
Three days before his death.
I stared at the picture.
Someone had been watching him.
The photographer had been standing across the street.
The officer turned it over.
A date.
October 12.
The same date Daniel copied the payment file.
I felt sick.
“This started before he died.”
Peter nodded.
“It did.”
The officer asked,
“Who knew Daniel was collecting evidence?”
“Marcus. Laura. Samuel. Me.”
“And possibly someone else.”
I looked at the photograph again.
There was a car in the background.
Black sedan.
I recognized it.
“That's Laura's car.”
The officer zoomed in.
“You're right.”
Peter looked stunned.
“She was following him.”
“Or someone using her car,” I said.
The officer nodded.
“We'll verify.”
A sound came from inside the boathouse.
Everyone froze.
The officer raised his weapon.
“Police. Come out.”
No answer.
He entered.
We followed only after he signaled.
The building was empty.
But on the floor was a sleeping bag.
Fresh.
A cup of coffee.
Still warm.
And a jacket.
Peter picked it up.
“Samuel.”
“How do you know?”
“He always wore this.”
The officer found a hidden compartment beneath the floor.
Inside was a phone.
The screen was cracked.
But it still worked.
There was one unsent message.
To Daniel.
I KNOW WHO FOLLOWED YOU.
Below it was a second line.
IT WASN'T MARCUS.
I stared at the screen.
“Who was it?”
The officer searched the phone.
There were no contacts.
But one recording remained.
Samuel's voice.
“If Daniel is listening, don't trust the person who says they were protecting you.”
Peter closed his eyes.
“That sounds like me.”
The recording continued.
“They'll tell you the truth in pieces.”
A pause.
“Because the whole truth would destroy them.”
Then silence.
The phone shut down.
We returned to the station.
Peter sat alone.
I sat across from him.
“You're hiding something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Daniel asked me to alter his medical record.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because he wanted everyone to believe he was sick.”
“What?”
“He wanted to disappear.”
“Did he?”
“He tried.”
“When?”
“The week before he died.”
I felt dizzy.
“He told me he needed time.”
“Where was he going?”
“Somewhere Marcus couldn't find him.”
“Did he take Samuel?”
“No.”
“Then why did he come home?”
Peter shook his head.
“He came back because of you.”
I said nothing.
“Daniel couldn't leave without telling you.”
My eyes burned.
“He should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't he?”
“Because he believed you would follow him.”
I almost laughed.
“I would have.”
“I know.”
The officer entered.
“We found something else.”
He placed a folder on the table.
It contained hospital records.
The original medication order.
The dosage.
The prescribing signature.
Peter's.
I looked at him.
“You prescribed it.”
“Yes.”
“Laura gave it to him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Peter swallowed.
“She told Daniel it was necessary.”
“Necessary for what?”
“To keep him calm.”
“And you allowed it.”
“I didn't know she had taken it.”
“Then why sign it?”
“Because Daniel asked me to.”
I stared.
“What?”
“He asked me to prescribe it.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted Laura to believe he was cooperating.”
I couldn't breathe.
“So Daniel knew she was watching him.”
“Yes.”
“And he intentionally accepted the medication?”
“Yes.”
“Then how did he die?”
Peter looked down.
“We still don't know.”
The officer interrupted.
“The medical examiner is reviewing the records.”
I looked at Peter.
“You said the sedative didn't kill him.”
“It shouldn't have.”
“But something did.”
Peter nodded.
“Yes.”
The officer handed me another document.
“Toxicology wasn't done at the time.”
My stomach turned.
“But we may be able to recover tissue samples.”
“For three years?”
“Possibly.”
That possibility was enough.
The next morning, the reopened investigation made the local news.
Daniel's name appeared on television.
So did Marcus.
So did Laura.
The public story was simple.
A former warehouse employee had uncovered alleged safety fraud before his unexplained death.
I turned off the television.
Evan was standing behind me.
“Does this mean Dad might get justice?”
“I don't know.”
He nodded.
Then he handed me a small envelope.
“I found this in his room.”
My heart stopped.
It was addressed to me.
In Daniel's handwriting.
But unlike the other letters, this one had never been opened.
Inside was one sentence.
I didn't die where they think I did.
I stared at it.
Evan looked frightened.
“What does that mean?”
I didn't know.
Then the phone rang.
The police officer answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“They found a second medical report.”
“Where?”
“At a private clinic.”
“Whose?”
“Dr. Peter Shaw's.”
I looked at Peter.
He had gone pale.
The officer continued.
“The report was created after Daniel was pronounced dead.”
Peter whispered,
“That can't be.”
The officer placed the report on the table.
The date was October 15.
The patient name was Daniel Mercer.
And beside it was a note.
PATIENT ARRIVED ALIVE AT 12:26 A.M.
Nobody spoke.
Because according to the hospital records, Daniel had died at 11:58 p.m.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: The Second Medical Report Suggested Daniel Survived the Hospital Collapse Long Enough to Tell Someone the Truth
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Part 10 of 20
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