Chapter 3 - The Autopsy Connor Tried to Stop
Detective Naomi Brooks answered on the second ring.
I gave her the shortest version possible.
Dead daughter.
Refused autopsy.
Hidden memory card.
Possible medication.
Threatening text.
Photograph.
She interrupted only once.
“Do not go to that garage alone.”
“They told me—”
“I heard what they told you.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand that someone wants a sixty-two-year-old grieving woman separated from every witness who can protect her.”
Her bluntness almost made me trust her immediately.
Almost.
“I need Claire.”
“And if Claire is genuinely in danger, charging in without help makes two victims.”
I looked at Richard.
He nodded.
Naomi said, “Send me the photograph and the number.”
I did.
“Where are you now?”
“Price Funeral Services.”
“Stay there.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“Mrs. Bennett.”
“Margaret.”
“Margaret, I’m eight minutes away.”
Westhaven was twelve minutes away.
Every minute mattered.
“Seven,” I said.
“What?”
“You have seven minutes.”
She sighed.
“I see where Savannah got it.”
That nearly made me cry again.
I hung up.
Samuel returned from the rear parking lot.
“Helen is conscious. Paramedics are taking her to Presbyterian.”
“Did she say anything?”
“She asked whether you found the card.”
I stood.
“What else?”
“She said she needed to talk to you.”
“Why didn’t she?”
“She became disoriented.”
As a nurse, I knew what that could mean.
Shock.
Medication.
Stroke.
Hypoglycemia.
Fear.
Or deliberate poisoning.
“Did she have any obvious injuries?”
“No.”
“Was she breathing normally?”
“Yes.”
“Pupils?”
Samuel blinked.
“I didn’t check.”
Of course he hadn’t.
He was a funeral director, not an ER nurse.
“Who found her?”
“One of our drivers.”
“Where exactly?”
“Beside her car.”
“Was her purse there?”
“No.”
Another missing object.
Another question.
The office door opened.
Connor stood there.
Nobody had heard him return.
Lucas immediately moved behind me.
Richard stepped toward his son.
“Where have you been?”
“Outside.”
“You disappeared.”
“I needed air.”
I held up my phone.
“Then why is your car at Westhaven?”
Connor looked at the photograph.
One second.
Two.
Something passed behind his eyes.
Then he said, “That picture isn’t current.”
“How do you know?”
“Because my car is outside.”
Richard looked through the window.
A black Mercedes sat near the chapel entrance.
Connor’s car.
My certainty shifted.
Not disappeared.
Shifted.
“When were you at Westhaven?” I asked.
“Yesterday.”
“Why?”
“Meeting.”
“With Claire Donnelly?”
His face hardened.
“No.”
I showed him the photograph again.
“Who took this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You recognized the garage.”
“I park there sometimes.”
“Why?”
“My attorney has offices across the street.”
Richard asked, “What attorney?”
Connor ignored him.
I said, “Savannah recorded you.”
That landed.
His expression changed almost imperceptibly.
“What did she say?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t play games.”
“You scheduled my daughter to become ashes three hours after we buried her.”
“I followed her wishes.”
“She specifically recorded that she did not want cremation if she died unexpectedly.”
Connor stared.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because she told me the opposite.”
“When?”
“A month ago.”
“Convenient.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Then why did you try to take the card?”
“Because Savannah had confidential company files. If those files include protected patient information, possessing them could create legal problems for everyone.”
There it was.
Not grief.
Compliance language.
“You knew about Northgate.”
Connor’s face froze.
Richard spoke behind him.
“Answer her.”
Connor looked at his father.
“You opened the files?”
“I heard Savannah’s recordings.”
“That was private.”
“She implicated my firm!”
“She misunderstood.”
“She said you accessed her work account.”
“She was paranoid.”
My hand moved before I realized it.
Not to strike him.
To point.
“Never use that word about my daughter again.”
He looked at me.
Then at Lucas.
His voice softened.
“Buddy, come with me.”
Lucas clutched my sleeve.
“No.”
“I’m your father.”
“I want Grandma.”
Connor closed his eyes.
Something genuine appeared then.
Pain.
“My wife died four days ago, and now my son is afraid of me because you’re filling his head with—”
“I saw you put something in Mom’s tea.”
Silence.
Connor stared at Lucas.
His face became empty.
“What?”
“You crushed the white thing.”
Richard whispered, “Connor.”
Connor slowly crouched.
“Lucas, listen to me. Your mother took supplements. Sometimes I crushed them because she had trouble swallowing pills.”
“That’s not true,” I said.
“You weren’t there.”
“I know my daughter. She swallowed pills just fine.”
His jaw tightened.
“Maybe she didn’t tell you everything.”
“Apparently neither did you.”
A knock sounded from the chapel entrance.
Two detectives entered.
Naomi Brooks was in her early forties, compact, dark-haired, wearing a navy coat over plain clothes.
Her partner, Detective Evan Cole, followed.
Connor stood.
“Who called police?”
“I did.”
He looked at me as though I had committed betrayal.
Naomi approached.
“Connor Hale?”
“Yes.”
“I need everyone to remain here while we clarify several issues.”
He immediately said, “I want my attorney.”
“That’s your right.”
“I’m leaving.”
“You’re free to leave unless we establish lawful grounds to detain you. However, we are securing Mrs. Bennett’s memory card and requesting preservation of Savannah Hale’s remains pending review by the medical examiner.”
Connor’s composure broke.
“You can’t.”
Naomi watched him.
“I can request it.”
“The cremation is authorized.”
“Not anymore.”
He looked at Samuel.
Samuel said, “I suspended the cremation.”
Connor’s face reddened.
“You had no authority.”
Samuel said quietly, “I had sufficient concern.”
Naomi extended a gloved evidence envelope toward me.
“Margaret, I need the card.”
I hesitated.
She saw it.
“You’re afraid it will disappear.”
“Yes.”
“Reasonable.”
Connor scoffed.
Naomi ignored him.
“We’ll create two forensic copies while you observe the initial transfer. Original remains sealed. One copy goes into evidence. Your attorney can later seek lawful access to the relevant material.”
“I don’t have an attorney.”
Richard said, “You do now.”
I looked at him.
“I’m paying.”
“No.”
“Margaret.”
“I won’t owe you.”
“You won’t.”
His voice cracked.
“I owe Savannah.”
That silenced me.
Naomi said, “There’s more.”
“What?”
“I had dispatch check the lab mentioned in your call. Savannah’s blood sample from Monday still exists.”
I almost collapsed.
“Still exists?”
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t discarded?”
“Not yet. We requested an immediate preservation hold.”
Connor turned.
“Blood sample?”
Naomi’s eyes shifted toward him.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
Savannah had successfully hidden at least one thing from her husband.
Naomi continued.
“The medical examiner is willing to review the circumstances. Based on the new information, cremation will not proceed today.”
I finally exhaled.
For the first time since arriving at the funeral home, time was no longer running against us.
Then my phone buzzed.
The unknown number again.
YOU BROUGHT POLICE.
A second message followed.
NOW CLAIRE PAYS FOR YOUR MISTAKE.
I showed Naomi.
Her face sharpened.
“Cole.”
Her partner was already moving.
“Tracing.”
Naomi turned to Connor.
“Where is Claire Donnelly?”
“I don’t know.”
“Your car was photographed with her.”
“Yesterday.”
“Where?”
“Westhaven.”
“Why?”
Connor said nothing.
His lawyer had not yet arrived.
Naomi did not push.
Instead she looked at me.
“We’re going to Westhaven.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Detective—”
“Absolutely not.”
“Claire contacted Savannah.”
“And that’s precisely why you may be a target.”
Richard asked, “Can I take Lucas somewhere safe?”
My grandson tightened his grip.
“No.”
Naomi looked at him gently.
“You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want.”
Then she asked me, “Do you have somewhere secure?”
“My sister lives in Davidson.”
Connor said, “My son is not going anywhere with her.”
Naomi turned.
“You can address custody through the appropriate process. Right now the child has expressed fear and is a potential witness in an active investigation.”
“I haven’t been accused of anything.”
“Correct.”
Connor looked at Lucas.
“Buddy, I would never hurt your mom.”
Lucas’s lip trembled.
“Then why were you mad at her every night?”
Connor’s expression collapsed.
There were no polished answers left.
Richard looked away.
Naomi’s phone rang.
She answered.
“Brooks.”
Pause.
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Secure the scene. We’re coming.”
She hung up.
“Claire?”
Naomi nodded.
“They found a woman on Level Four of Westhaven.”
My stomach dropped.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
I gripped the desk.
“Thank God.”
“But there’s something else.”
“What?”
“She wasn’t alone.”
Connor stopped moving.
Naomi watched him.
“Officers found a second vehicle parked two spaces away.”
She turned the phone toward us.
The registration information was displayed on the screen.
The owner was listed as HELEN BROOKS.
May you like
The funeral-home employee who had supposedly collapsed beside her own car twenty minutes earlier.
And when Samuel looked through the rear window toward the space where Helen’s vehicle should have been, the parking spot was empty.
