Chapter 5 - The Last Person Evelyn Saw
Dr. Amelia Warren stepped into Preston’s office.
Preston knew her well.
She had been Evelyn’s physician.
She had also treated Noah after his mother died.
For three years Amelia had explained trauma to Preston.
She had told him Noah needed patience.
Safety.
Time.
Now Natalie’s voice whispered through his phone.
“That’s her.”
Preston looked at Amelia.
The doctor smiled uncertainly.
“I came as soon as Marcus called.”
Marcus had called no one.
Preston muted the phone.
“Why are you here?”
“I heard Noah was found.”
“From whom?”
Amelia paused.
“People are talking.”
“Which people?”
Her smile disappeared.
Preston motioned toward the chair.
“Sit.”
“I don’t appreciate the tone.”
“Neither did Evelyn.”
Amelia froze.
There.
Tiny.
But visible.
Preston had spent his life reading fear.
“You saw her after the crash.”
Amelia stood.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You weren’t called to the scene.”
“No.”
“You weren’t working at the hospital that night.”
“No.”
“So how did you know what condition she was in before the ambulance arrived?”
Amelia’s face changed.
Preston had not actually known that.
It was a trap.
She had answered anyway.
He stepped closer.
“Natalie says you were there.”
Amelia looked toward the door.
Marcus entered.
It locked behind him.
“Sit down,” Preston said.
She sat.
Preston unmuted his phone.
“Natalie.”
“I’m here.”
“Tell me everything.”
Natalie cried quietly.
Three years earlier, Evelyn had called her.
She needed help.
She believed Raymond’s people were following her.
Natalie drove to a parking garage where Evelyn had hidden with Noah.
Evelyn made Natalie take Noah to safety.
Then Evelyn borrowed Natalie’s coat and drove away in Natalie’s vehicle as a decoy.
Natalie drove Evelyn’s car.
“She thought they were following vehicles, not faces,” Natalie said.
“Why didn’t she call me?”
“She was afraid someone near you was intercepting calls.”
Preston glanced at Marcus.
Marcus looked sick.
Natalie continued.
“Evelyn met me later. She said she had one last piece of evidence to collect. I drove.”
“Where?”
“To a medical office.”
Preston looked at Amelia.
“She was investigating fraudulent death certificates.”
Amelia closed her eyes.
Preston felt rage climbing into his throat.
Natalie continued.
“Afterward we were chased. A truck hit us. I lost control.”
“The crash.”
“Yes.”
“You told police you weren’t there.”
“I was terrified.”
“You let me bury my wife believing she had been alone.”
“I’m sorry.”
Preston nearly crushed the phone.
“What happened after the crash?”
Natalie inhaled shakily.
“I crawled out. Evelyn was trapped but conscious.”
Preston shut his eyes.
He could picture her.
He wished he couldn’t.
“A car arrived,” Natalie continued.
“Amelia got out.”
Preston opened his eyes.
“Why?”
Amelia said nothing.
Natalie answered.
“Because she had been following us.”
Amelia finally spoke.
“That’s not what happened.”
Preston slammed his hand against the desk.
“Then tell me.”
Amelia stared at him.
“I was trying to help her.”
“Try again.”
“I worked for Raymond.”
Marcus swore.
Amelia’s voice cracked.
“I falsified records. Mostly medical clearances. Death certificates. Injury reports. I told myself nobody was being hurt.”
“And Evelyn found out.”
“Yes.”
“So you killed her.”
“No!”
Amelia jumped to her feet.
Marcus reached for his gun.
She raised both hands.
“I did not kill Evelyn.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
Preston laughed bitterly.
“Apparently nobody in Chicago knows who killed my wife.”
Amelia began crying.
“When I got to the crash, Evelyn was alive. Natalie had run toward the road looking for help. I tried to get Evelyn out.”
Natalie interrupted through the phone.
“That’s a lie.”
“It isn’t!”
“I saw you inject her.”
Preston’s entire body became still.
Amelia whispered, “It was morphine.”
“Why?”
“She was in agony.”
“Enough to kill her?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
Amelia looked at Marcus.
“A second vehicle arrived.”
“Who?”
“I couldn’t see the driver.”
“Man or woman?”
“Woman.”
Preston looked at the phone.
Natalie whispered, “I never saw another car.”
“You were unconscious by then,” Amelia said.
Natalie said nothing.
Amelia continued.
“The woman walked toward Evelyn. Evelyn recognized her.”
“What did Evelyn say?”
Amelia hesitated.
Preston stepped closer.
“What did my wife say?”
“She said, ‘I knew it was you.’”
The room went silent.
“And then?”
“The woman ordered me to leave.”
“You left Evelyn?”
“She had a gun.”
“What did she look like?”
“Tall. Blonde. Expensive coat. Maybe forty.”
Preston searched his memory.
Dozens of possibilities.
Then Amelia added, “She wore a necklace.”
“What kind?”
“A gold chain with a green stone.”
Preston’s heart stopped.
He had seen that necklace before.
His mother had owned one.
After she died, it had passed to Preston’s aunt.
Raymond’s wife.
Vivian Hale.
Preston looked at Marcus.
Marcus had reached the same conclusion.
Vivian.
Raymond’s elegant, quiet wife.
The woman who sat beside Noah at Christmas.
The woman who had comforted Preston at Evelyn’s funeral.
Preston whispered, “Where is Vivian?”
Marcus checked his phone.
“She left Chicago this morning.”
“Find her.”
Amelia shook her head.
“There’s more.”
Preston stared at her.
“What?”
“Evelyn said something before I left.”
“What?”
“She told me that Vivian wasn’t working for Raymond.”
Preston frowned.
“Then who?”
Amelia’s voice dropped.
“Raymond was working for Vivian.”
The corruption network suddenly changed shape.
Raymond had always seemed central.
Maybe he had been visible because someone else preferred darkness.
Preston remembered Raymond’s last words in the warehouse.
The crash wasn’t mine.
He had believed Raymond was trying to manipulate him.
Perhaps he had told the truth.
Marcus said, “Vivian controlled the charity boards.”
Preston nodded.
“She also handled family trusts.”
“And political donations.”
“She had access to everything.”
Amelia wiped her eyes.
“Evelyn discovered Vivian had been moving money for years.”
“How long?”
“Almost twenty.”
That meant before Preston inherited the organization.
Before his father died.
A terrible thought entered his mind.
“My father.”
Amelia looked away.
“What about him?”
“He died of a heart attack.”
Nobody spoke.
Preston stepped closer.
“Did Vivian have anything to do with my father’s death?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I really don’t.”
Marcus said, “Preston.”
Preston turned.
Marcus held up his phone.
A private jet registered to a Hale company had departed Chicago two hours earlier.
Destination unknown.
Passenger manifest showed one name.
Vivian Hale.
“Track it.”
“Already trying.”
Clara appeared at the office door with Noah.
Preston immediately softened.
“Hey.”
Noah ran toward him.
Preston lifted him.
Clara saw Amelia.
Her expression changed.
“You.”
Amelia looked shocked.
“You know her?” Preston asked.
Clara nodded.
“She came to my apartment two years ago.”
Amelia frowned.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You did.”
Clara stepped closer.
“You told me Evelyn’s investigation was over and that I needed to forget her.”
Amelia shook her head.
“That wasn’t me.”
“I know your face.”
Amelia stared.
Then realization dawned.
“Oh God.”
“What?” Preston demanded.
Amelia looked at Clara.
“Did she have my hair?”
“Yes.”
“My clothes?”
“A medical coat.”
Amelia whispered, “Vivian.”
Clara looked confused.
Amelia explained.
“Vivian used wigs. Prosthetics. She had people imitate identities when she needed records signed or witnesses confused.”
Preston felt sick.
The conspiracy was older and more deliberate than he had imagined.
Noah tugged on his collar.
“Daddy.”
“Yes?”
“Green lady.”
Everyone froze.
Preston looked at him.
“What did you say?”
Noah pointed toward a family photograph on the wall.
Vivian stood in the second row wearing the emerald necklace.
“Green lady.”
Preston carried him closer.
“Do you remember her?”
Noah nodded.
“She yelled at Mommy.”
Clara moved beside him.
“When?”
Noah stared at the photograph.
“The night.”
Preston forced himself to stay calm.
“What did she say?”
Noah whispered, “Give it back.”
“Give what back?”
The boy frowned, trying to remember.
“Book.”
Preston looked at Marcus.
“The ledger.”
Marcus nodded.
Noah continued.
“Mommy said no.”
Then his little face changed.
“She saw me.”
“Vivian?”
Noah nodded.
“What did she do?”
“She said if I talked, Daddy would go away too.”
Preston closed his eyes.
There it was.
The reason for three years of silence.
Not only grief.
A threat.
Vivian had convinced a three-year-old boy that speaking would kill his father.
Preston held Noah tighter.
“She lied to you.”
Noah looked uncertain.
“She lied,” Preston repeated. “Nothing you say can make me leave you.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Noah wrapped his arms around his neck.
Clara turned away, wiping tears.
Marcus’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then looked at Preston.
“We found Vivian’s plane.”
“Where?”
“It landed in Montreal.”
“Get another jet.”
Marcus did not move.
“What?”
“There’s a second passenger.”
“Who?”
Marcus turned the screen.
Airport surveillance footage showed Vivian walking across the terminal.
Beside her was a young woman wearing a hood.
Preston stared.
The woman turned just enough for the camera to catch her face.
Impossible.
Preston’s knees almost failed.
Clara whispered, “What is it?”
Preston enlarged the image.
He had memorized that face.
He had kissed it every morning for fourteen years.
He had buried it three years ago.
May you like
The woman walking beside Vivian looked exactly like Evelyn.
And she was alive.
