Chapter 5: The Man From Danielle's Past
I didn't speak for several seconds.
The garage suddenly felt colder.
"Who are you?"" I finally asked.
"Gregory Vale. I worked with Danielle.""
"Worked with her where?""
"At the hospital.""
Danielle had been a registered nurse before Caleb was born.
She had reduced her hours afterward, eventually leaving the profession to spend more time with the children.
I remembered her talking about coworkers.
But I didn't remember Gregory.
"Why were you meeting my wife?""
"I think we should speak in person.""
"Answer the question.""
He sighed.
"Danielle had discovered something at the hospital. Something involving a patient and a falsified medical record. She believed someone was deliberately changing information.""
I stared at the letter.
"What did that have to do with the accident?""
"She was frightened.""
"Of whom?""
"I don't know if she ever found out.""
I rubbed my forehead.
"You're telling me my wife was investigating something six years ago, and you're only contacting me now?""
"I tried contacting you after the funeral.""
"How?""
"I called your house. I sent letters. I even went to your workplace once.""
I remembered nothing.
"Nobody told me.""
"Perhaps they didn't want you to know.""
My stomach tightened.
"Who didn't?""
There was a pause.
"Marcus, I don't want to make accusations without evidence. But Danielle believed someone close to her was involved.""
I looked at the letter again.
"Did she mention Tasha?""
Silence.
Then Gregory said, "Yes.""
My hand went numb.
"What did you just say?""
"Danielle mentioned a woman named Tasha.""
I felt my heartbeat in my ears.
"How did you know her?""
"I didn't. Danielle said Tasha had approached her several times.""
"When?""
"Shortly before the accident.""
I sat down on an old storage box.
"Why would Tasha approach my wife?""
"That's something I hoped you could help me understand.""
I stared at the concrete floor.
Tasha and I had met nearly two years after Danielle died.
At least, that was what I believed.
She had been introduced to me by a mutual friend at a charity fundraiser.
She'd known about Danielle.
She'd spoken kindly about her.
She'd even told me she admired how devoted Danielle had been to the children.
I remembered feeling grateful that someone could speak about my late wife without jealousy or discomfort.
Now every memory seemed to have a shadow.
"Gregory, where can we meet?""
"There's a coffee shop on Westfield Avenue. Tomorrow morning?""
"Today.""
He hesitated.
"All right. Noon.""
Before ending the call, I asked one more question.
"Did Danielle know she was in danger?""
His voice softened.
"I believe she did.""
The call ended.
I remained in the garage until my phone screen went dark.
Then I called my lawyer, Daniel Brooks.
Daniel had handled my estate paperwork after Danielle's death and later helped with my marriage to Tasha.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he said, "Marcus, don't confront anyone else until we understand what we're dealing with.""
"I already confronted Tasha.""
"Then don't do it again without a plan.""
"What do you think?""
"I think you need to protect the children first. And I think we should obtain the original accident records and any documents connected to Danielle's estate.""
I looked at the letter.
"She left something for me.""
"Bring it to my office.""
At eleven forty-five, I arrived at the coffee shop.
Gregory was sitting near the window.
He was in his early fifties, with gray hair and a tired expression. A leather folder rested on the table.
When he saw me, he stood.
"Marcus.""
I didn't shake his hand.
"Start talking.""
He nodded.
"Fair enough.""
I sat down.
He opened the folder.
Inside were copies of old hospital documents, photographs, and printed emails.
"Danielle was working in the hospital's administration department before she left," he explained.
"She noticed that several patient records had been altered after treatment.""
"Altered how?""
"Medication histories. Discharge times. Consent forms.""
I frowned.
"Why would someone do that?""
"To cover mistakes. Possibly to hide improper billing. We never established the full picture.""
I studied the documents.
One name appeared repeatedly.
*Tasha Morgan.*
I looked up.
"Why is my wife's name here?""
Gregory's face tightened.
"Before she married you, Tasha worked as a temporary administrative assistant at the same hospital.""
I felt the room tilt.
"You're saying they knew each other?""
"Yes.""
"How well?""
"Danielle believed Tasha had access to some of the altered records.""
I pushed the papers away.
"This doesn't make sense.""
Gregory leaned forward.
"Marcus, I'm not saying your wife was responsible for anything. I'm telling you Danielle was worried about her.""
I looked at him.
"Why didn't she tell me?""
"She wanted to be certain before she involved you.""
I remembered the letter.
Something about my family that I haven't been brave enough to explain.
"Was Tasha involved in the accident?""
Gregory didn't answer immediately.
"Danielle was scheduled to meet me that night. She had discovered a document that she wanted me to examine. She called me shortly before leaving home.""
"What did she say?""
"She said someone had found out she was investigating.""
My hands tightened.
"Who?""
"She didn't tell me.""
"Did you see her that night?""
"No. She never arrived.""
"Then why did the police say she was driving home from the grocery store?""
Gregory looked down.
"Because that's what the initial report stated.""
I leaned forward.
"Did you challenge it?""
"I tried. I gave the police the information I had. But the case was closed before anyone interviewed me.""
"Why?""
Gregory slid a document across the table.
It was an official report.
At the bottom was a signature.
I recognized the name.
Detective Aaron Whitmore.
He had been the officer who called me after the accident.
I remembered him standing in the hospital corridor, explaining that the other driver had been arrested.
"Did you ever speak to him?""
"Twice.""
"And?""
Gregory took a breath.
"He told me Danielle's death was an accident. He advised me to stop contacting the family.""
I stared at the signature.
"Why would he say that?""
"I don't know.""
We spent another hour reviewing the documents.
There were unanswered questions everywhere.
But one detail bothered me more than the rest.
A photograph.
It showed Danielle standing outside a restaurant with a man.
I recognized the location.
It was the same restaurant Tasha had supposedly used as evidence of Danielle's affair.
But Gregory wasn't the man in the photograph.
"Who took this?"" I asked.
"I don't know.""
"Why was it in Danielle's file?""
"She gave it to me.""
I examined the image.
On the back was a date.
Three weeks before the accident.
And beneath it, written in Danielle's handwriting, were four words:
*He followed me again.*
I looked at Gregory.
"Who is he?""
Gregory shook his head.
"I was hoping you would know.""
My phone vibrated.
A message from my mother.
*Imani is asking for you. Please come home.*
I stood.
"Send me copies of everything.""
Gregory nodded.
"There's something else.""
I stopped.
"What?""
He hesitated.
"Danielle had a life insurance policy. The beneficiary information was changed shortly before her death.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Changed to whom?""
Gregory looked directly at me.
"Your children were supposed to receive the money through a trust. But the paperwork I saw later named someone else as temporary administrator.""
"Who?""
He slid one final document across the table.
The signature belonged to Tasha Morgan.
I stared at it.
"She wasn't even married to me then.""
"That's what I thought.""
I took the document.
"How much money?""
"Approximately four hundred thousand dollars.""
I couldn't speak.
Danielle had always been careful with money. She'd taken out the policy when Imani was born because she wanted the children protected.
I'd never questioned the paperwork after her death.
I'd assumed the money had gone into the trust we'd established.
"Did she receive it?""
Gregory shook his head.
"That's what I haven't been able to establish.""
I left the coffee shop feeling as if the ground beneath my life had disappeared.
When I arrived home, my mother was waiting in the living room.
Imani was sitting beside her.
"Daddy!""
She ran toward me.
I bent and hugged her.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?""
She looked at my face.
"Can we go somewhere?""
"Of course.""
She glanced toward the staircase.
"Somewhere Tasha can't hear us.""
My mother stood.
"Marcus, I think you need to see something.""
She handed me a small envelope.
"Imani found it inside her schoolbag.""
I opened it.
There was a photograph inside.
Danielle was standing outside the same restaurant Gregory had shown me.
Beside her was a man whose face had been partially scratched out.
On the back, someone had written:
*YOUR FATHER DOESN'T KNOW WHO YOUR MOTHER REALLY WAS.*
I looked at Imani.
"Where did you get this?""
She swallowed.
"Tasha put it in my bag.""
My heart pounded.
"Why?""
"She said I should stop asking questions about Mommy.""
I knelt.
"Did she tell you who the man was?""
Imani nodded slowly.
"She said he was the reason Mommy died.""
I closed my eyes.
Then I heard footsteps.
Tasha came down the stairs.
She stopped when she saw the photograph in my hand.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then she spoke.
"Give me that.""
I stood.
"Did you put this in my daughter's schoolbag?""
"Marcus, you don't understand.""
"Answer the question.""
She looked at Imani.
Then at me.
Finally, she said something that made my blood run cold.
"That man in the photograph is the reason Danielle was going to leave you.""
I stared at her.
"Who is he?""
Tasha's eyes filled with tears.
May you like
Then she whispered:
"He's Caleb's biological father.""
