Chapter 6: The Phone Call at 9:17 P.M.
“Who called you?”” I asked.
Michael didn't answer.
He stared at my mother's letter, his lips pressed tightly together.
The office seemed to grow smaller around us.
Margaret placed the document on the desk.
“Michael, we need you to tell us what happened.””
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I was at my office that evening. Your mother had called me earlier, but the connection was poor. She said she needed to see me at the hospital.””
“And then someone called you at 9:17,” I said.
He nodded.
“Who?””
He looked at me.
“Your mother.””
My breath caught.
“But you said you went to the hospital because she called you earlier.””
“She called me twice.””
He reached into his briefcase and removed an old notebook.
“I kept a record of the calls I made that night. I didn't know it would matter years later, but I wrote down the times because I was trying to reconstruct what happened.””
Margaret leaned closer.
“Do you still have the original telephone records?””
“Not all of them. My old phone was destroyed when I moved offices. But I kept this notebook and several bills.””
He opened it to a page marked with a faded paper tab.
Three entries had been written in blue ink.
8:36 p.m. — Martha, hospital.
9:17 p.m. — Martha, urgent.
9:29 p.m. — Hospital reception.
I stared at the first name.
Martha.
My mother's name had been Martha Carter.
“You said Mom called you at 9:17?””
“Yes.””
“What did she say?””
Michael closed his eyes.
“She said, 'Michael, come now. I found the original papers. Vanessa knows.''”
The room fell silent.
I gripped the edge of the desk.
“What original papers?””
“I don't know. I asked her, but she said she couldn't explain over the phone. She told me to come to the hospital and not to speak to anyone before I saw her.””
“Did you go?””
“Yes. I was already driving there when she called.””
“Then what happened?””
Michael looked down at the notebook.
“When I arrived, Vanessa was waiting near the entrance. She told me Martha had become confused and was asking for people who weren't there.””
I felt sick.
“She said Mom was confused?””
“Yes. She told me the doctors had warned her that Martha might become disoriented.””
“Did you believe her?””
“I didn't know what to believe. Your mother had been ill for months, and Vanessa had been the one coordinating many of her appointments.””
He swallowed.
“I went upstairs anyway. But the ward receptionist told me that Martha had asked not to be disturbed.””
I stared at him.
“Mom had just called you and begged you to come.””
“I know.””
“Why would she ask not to be disturbed?””
“I asked the same question. Vanessa said Martha had changed her mind.””
Margaret opened her notebook.
“Did you speak to the attending physician?””
“I tried. Vanessa said the doctor was with another patient. She insisted I should go home and return in the morning.””
“And you left?””
“I went downstairs. I called the ward again at 9:29. The receptionist told me my access had been restricted.””
Michael's voice became rough.
“By 10:31, Martha was dead.””
I couldn't speak.
The clock on Eleanor's wall ticked softly.
I looked at the hospital records again.
The restriction had been entered at 9:42.
Thirteen minutes after Vanessa had left the hospital, according to the visitor log.
Someone had prevented my father from seeing my mother.
Someone had told him that the woman he loved was confused.
And someone had made sure he wasn't there when she died.
I turned toward Michael.
“Why didn't you tell me this last night?””
He looked devastated.
“Because I never understood what happened. I thought the hospital had made a mistake. I thought Vanessa had misunderstood the doctors. I didn't want to frighten you with something I couldn't prove.””
“You let me believe Mom just got sick and died.””
“I know.””
“You let me believe you were dead.””
His eyes filled.
“I know, Nia.””
I pushed my chair away from the desk.
“I don't know how to believe anything you say.””
He nodded slowly.
“Then don't believe me just because I'm your father. Look at the records. Ask the doctors. Ask anyone who was there.””
He looked at Margaret.
“I want everything investigated.””
Margaret nodded.
“We'll request the complete hospital file, the visitor-access records, and any surviving incident reports. We should also identify the person who entered the restriction.””
Eleanor folded her hands.
“There may be another source of information.””
She walked to the cabinet and removed a small address book.
“Martha kept the contact details of several people involved in her care. One of them was Dr. Samuel Reed, her attending physician.””
“Is he still practicing?”” Margaret asked.
“I believe he retired several years ago. He may still be reachable.””
Michael stood.
“I remember him. He was the doctor who spoke to me after Martha died.””
“Then we should contact him,” Margaret said.
I looked at the notebook again.
“Can we call him now?””
Margaret glanced at the time.
“It's nearly eleven. We can leave a message and request an appointment.””
I felt anger rise inside me.
“Why do we have to wait? Everyone else has had ten years to hide things from me.””
Margaret's expression softened.
“I understand. But if we want reliable evidence, we need to do this carefully. We don't want to give anyone an opportunity to destroy records or coordinate a story.””
I swallowed.
She was right.
I hated that she was right.
Dr. Reed agreed to meet us the following afternoon.
Until then, Margaret instructed us not to contact Vanessa or respond to the anonymous messages.
We left Eleanor's office carrying certified copies of the documents she could legally release, along with photographs of the remaining records.
Outside, the sky was gray, and the pavement glistened from a recent shower.
Michael walked beside me without speaking.
I stopped near the curb.
“Did you love her?””
He looked startled.
“Your mother?””
I nodded.
“With everything I had.””
“Then why didn't you fight harder?””
His face tightened.
“I thought I was protecting you from a legal battle that could make your life worse. I thought if I waited until things settled, I could come back and explain everything.””
“You waited ten years.””
“I know.””
I stared at him.
“What if I had died before you found me?””
He didn't answer.
“What if I had grown up believing nobody loved me? What if I had never entered that competition? What if Eleanor hadn't recognized me?””
Michael's eyes filled.
“Then I might never have found you. And I would have deserved to live with that failure.””
His honesty left me with nowhere to put my anger.
I looked away.
“I don't want you to disappear again.””
“I won't.””
“Don't promise me something you can't guarantee.””
He took a breath.
“Then I'll make you a different promise. If anything prevents me from being with you, I will tell you. I will not leave you wondering whether you mattered.””
I studied his face.
It wasn't forgiveness.
But it was a beginning.
Dr. Reed lived in a quiet residential neighborhood on the outskirts of the city.
He was in his seventies, with white hair, a slight stoop, and careful movements. When he opened the door and saw Michael, his expression changed immediately.
“Michael Carter?””
Michael nodded.
“I'm sorry to disturb you, Doctor.””
Dr. Reed glanced at me.
“And you must be Nia.””
My stomach tightened.
“You remember me?””
“I remember your mother talking about you. She kept a photograph of you on her bedside table.””
He stepped aside.
“Please come in.””
The living room was filled with books, family photographs, and the soft ticking of a grandfather clock.
Dr. Reed offered us tea, but nobody touched it.
Margaret explained why we had come and showed him the hospital records.
He examined the pages through his reading glasses.
When he reached the entry about restricted visitor access, he became very still.
“I remember this.””
Michael leaned forward.
“What happened?””
Dr. Reed placed the paper on the table.
“Your wife was extremely concerned during her final admission. She was physically weak, but she was mentally alert. She repeatedly asked to speak with you.””
I felt tears sting my eyes.
“She wanted to see Daddy?””
“Yes.””
“Did you let her?””
Dr. Reed lowered his gaze.
“I tried to arrange a private visit. But an administrative instruction appeared in her file stating that all nonessential visitors were to be restricted during a period of clinical instability.””
Michael stared at him.
“Who issued that instruction?””
“I was told it came from the attending team.””
“Did you write it?””
“No.””
“Did you approve it?””
Dr. Reed looked troubled.
“I approved a general restriction during a medical procedure earlier that evening. But I did not specifically request that you be denied access afterward.””
Margaret made a note.
“Who could have modified the instruction?””
“The ward supervisor, the attending physician, or an authorized administrator, depending on the circumstances.””
“Can you identify who entered it?””
Dr. Reed shook his head.
“Not from memory. The electronic system may have retained an audit trail, but I don't know whether those records still exist.””
Michael gripped his knees.
“Was my wife confused?””
Dr. Reed looked directly at him.
“No. Not in the way someone would mean when suggesting she didn't know what she was saying. She was seriously ill, but she understood where she was and who she wanted to see.””
I closed my eyes.
Vanessa had told everyone my mother was confused.
She had used those words to keep my father away.
I opened my eyes again.
“Did Mom say why she needed to see him?””
Dr. Reed hesitated.
“She said she had discovered a discrepancy in her financial affairs. She was worried that someone had used her name without permission.””
Margaret's pen stopped moving.
“Did she identify the person?””
“Not to me. She said she had evidence, but she wanted to discuss it with her husband privately.””
Michael looked as though he could no longer breathe.
“Did she say anything else?””
Dr. Reed folded his hands.
“Yes. She asked me to make sure that if anything happened to her, her daughter would be protected.””
I felt a tear slide down my cheek.
“Did you promise?””
“I told her I would do everything within my authority.””
He looked at me with deep regret.
“I wish I had done more.””
I didn't know how to respond.
For ten years, I had imagined that my mother had spent her final hours surrounded by people who knew she was dying.
Now I was learning that she had been frightened, that she had tried to protect me, and that the adults around her had failed to understand the danger she believed she faced.
Margaret asked several more questions about the hospital's procedures, and Dr. Reed agreed to provide a written statement based on his recollection.
As we stood to leave, he touched Michael's arm.
“There is something I should tell you.””
Michael turned.
“What?””
Dr. Reed looked at me, then at Margaret.
“On the night Martha died, a woman came to my office after the ward restriction was entered. She asked whether the patient had been able to speak to her husband.””
My heart began to pound.
“Who was she?””
Dr. Reed closed his eyes, searching his memory.
“I didn't know her personally. She said she was a family representative.””
Margaret leaned forward.
“Can you describe her?””
“Dark hair. Tall. A cream-colored coat. She carried a leather handbag.””
Vanessa had always favored cream-colored coats.
Michael's face went rigid.
“Did you see her again?””
“No. But she asked me a strange question.””
“What question?”” I whispered.
Dr. Reed looked at me.
“She asked whether your mother had mentioned the blue jewelry box.””
Nobody moved.
I felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath my feet.
Even before my mother died, someone had known about the box.
Someone had been asking questions about it.
Someone had wanted to know whether my mother had spoken about it before she lost the ability to answer.
Michael stood abruptly.
“Why didn't you tell the police?””
“I didn't understand its significance. I assumed it was a family keepsake.””
Margaret rose.
“Doctor, we need that detail in your written statement. Please include the exact words you remember.””
Dr. Reed nodded.
“I will.””
As we walked toward the door, I looked back at him.
“Did my mother know she was going to die?””
His face softened.
“I cannot tell you what she believed. But she knew she was very ill, and she was afraid that certain people would use her illness to take control of your future.””
I swallowed.
“Did she believe Vanessa was one of those people?””
Dr. Reed hesitated.
“I don't know.””
It was the same answer I had heard all morning.
Nobody knew everything.
Nobody could prove the entire story yet.
But each new piece of evidence was pointing toward the same woman.
Outside, Michael called Margaret's office to report what Dr. Reed had told us.
I stood beside the car, staring at the wet pavement.
My phone vibrated.
Another message from the unknown number.
This time, there was no photograph.
Only a sentence.
*Your father wasn't the only person at the hospital that night. Ask him about the man who left through the service entrance at 9:26 p.m.*
I felt my blood turn cold.
Michael noticed my expression.
“What is it?””
I showed him the screen.
He read the message once.
Then again.
His hand tightened around the phone.
“Do you know who that man was?”” I asked.
Michael shook his head.
“No.””
But his expression suggested he was remembering something.
I stepped closer.
“Daddy?””
He looked at me.
“I saw someone leaving the hospital that night.””
“Who?””
“A man I recognized from my business.””
“Was he connected to Northbridge Holdings?””
Michael's face drained of color.
“Yes.””
I stared at him.
“What was he doing there?””
“I don't know.””
“Did you speak to him?””
“No. He was leaving as I was trying to get upstairs.””
“Why didn't you tell us?””
“Because I never knew whether it mattered.””
I looked at the message again.
Someone had known about that man for ten years.
Someone knew about the service entrance, the exact time, and the blue box.
And whoever was sending the messages was determined to make sure I questioned my father.
I looked at Michael.
“What's his name?””
He swallowed.
“Richard Vale.””
The name meant nothing to me.
But Michael's expression told me it meant everything to him.
“He was my business partner,” he said.
“And he was the last person I expected to see at the hospital.””
My phone vibrated again.
A new photograph appeared.
It showed a man standing beside a black car outside the hospital, his face turned toward the camera.
May you like
Beneath it were eight words.
*Ask your father who paid him to be there.*
