Chapter 11 - The Night Katherine Vance Died
Gunfire erupted outside.
Elena dropped behind a steel support beam.
Julian moved toward her.
She recoiled.
“Don’t touch me.”
Another shot.
Glass shattered overhead.
Malcolm began laughing in the darkness.
Then came a choking sound.
When emergency lights flickered on, blood covered his shirt.
A bullet had entered through the high warehouse window.
Malcolm Brooks was dead.
Federal agents stormed the building.
Arthur entered seconds later.
He went immediately to Elena.
She stepped away.
“Did you sign it?”
Arthur froze.
Around them agents shouted orders.
Julian was forced to the ground and handcuffed.
Malcolm’s body was covered.
Elena stood only feet from her father.
“Did you sign Mom’s medication authorization?”
Arthur looked at her.
“Yes.”
Elena’s chest tightened.
“What medication?”
“Morphine.”
“How much?”
Arthur’s face twisted.
“Elena.”
“How much?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Was it enough to kill her?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I asked.”
“Who?”
“Her physician.”
“Which physician?”
Arthur went silent.
Elena understood.
“Malcolm.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
“Oh my God.”
The drive back to the townhouse was silent.
Julian was taken into federal custody.
Not as a murder suspect.
Not yet.
Kidnapping alone was enough to hold him.
Arthur sat across from Elena in the study.
Maya slept upstairs.
William arrived after midnight.
Margaret brought Katherine’s medical file.
The official record showed terminal pancreatic cancer.
Expected survival: two to four months.
Actual death: thirteen days later.
Morphine escalation had been approved due to severe reported pain.
The attending consultant:
Dr. Malcolm Brooks.
Arthur’s signature appeared on a family consent form.
Elena stared at it.
“Why did she need your consent?”
“She was unconscious.”
“For how long?”
“Hours.”
“Was she in pain before that?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see her?”
Arthur looked at the floor.
“She was suffering.”
“Did Mom ask you to increase the medication?”
“No.”
“Did she ask you not to?”
Arthur looked up sharply.
Elena knew.
“She did.”
“Elena.”
“She asked you not to.”
“She was terrified.”
“Of dying?”
Arthur’s voice cracked.
“Of losing her mind.”
Elena said nothing.
Arthur continued.
“Katherine said the medication made her confused. She wanted clarity.”
“And you signed anyway.”
“The doctor told me the lower dose was cruel.”
“Malcolm told you.”
“Yes.”
Arthur covered his face.
“I thought I was helping her.”
Elena wanted to hate him.
For one minute, she almost succeeded.
Then she remembered being twenty-two.
Watching her mother scream from pain.
Watching Arthur sit beside the bed for nights without sleeping.
Grief could make ordinary decisions feel impossible.
That did not absolve him.
But it complicated the shape of guilt.
William looked through the records.
“There is another physician signature.”
Dr. Samuel Keene.
Margaret searched.
“Still alive.”
“Where?”
“Retired. Maine.”
Arthur stood.
“We go now.”
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
Arthur stared.
“I go.”
“Elena.”
“You stay with Maya.”
Arthur almost objected.
Then he understood.
It was not punishment.
It was trust.
A small piece of it.
Elena flew to Maine with Margaret and two federal investigators.
Dr. Samuel Keene lived beside a frozen lake in a cedar house.
He was eighty-two.
When he saw Katherine’s photograph, he closed his eyes.
“I wondered when one of you would come.”
Elena sat across from him.
“Did Malcolm Brooks kill my mother?”
Keene looked toward the investigators.
Then at Elena.
“Your mother was dying.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
“What did Malcolm give her?”
Keene’s hands trembled.
“A combination I objected to.”
“Was it lethal?”
“In her condition, it could have been.”
“Why didn’t you report it?”
“I tried.”
“To whom?”
“The hospital board.”
“What happened?”
“My privileges were suspended two days later.”
Elena felt sick.
“Did Mom know?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Keene looked at her.
“She kept saying one sentence.”
“What?”
“Tell Elena the family tree is wrong.”
Elena frowned.
“What family tree?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“Yes.”
Keene stood slowly.
Walked to a cabinet.
Returned with an envelope.
“I kept this because your mother gave it to me the morning before she lost consciousness.”
Inside was a photograph of Elena as a baby.
On the back, Katherine had written:
Arthur is her father.
Thomas is not her uncle.
Elena stared.
Margaret leaned closer.
“What does that mean?”
Dr. Keene looked at her.
“I always assumed it was medication confusion.”
Elena’s heart raced.
Then Keene continued.
“But Katherine wasn’t confused that morning.”
Elena called Arthur.
“Dad.”
“Elena?”
“Did you and Thomas have the same father?”
Silence.
Arthur did not answer.
“Dad.”
May you like
Finally he whispered.
“No.”
