Chapter 10 - The Doctor Who Certified the Dead
Smoke filled the stairwell between the thirteenth and twelfth floors.
Elena covered her mouth with her sleeve.
Margaret could not move quickly enough, so Harrison remained with her while Elena, Julian, and two federal agents continued downward.
The fire doors on twelve were locked.
Julian struck the release panel with a fire extinguisher.
The doors opened.
Heat rolled toward them.
Flames consumed the reception area of Doctor Reeve’s clinic.
A sprinkler system should have activated, but no water fell.
One agent radioed the fire department.
The other searched the corridor.
“Elena,” Julian called, “stay back.”
She ignored him.
Through the smoke, she saw a man pushing a wheeled medical cabinet toward the service elevator.
Doctor Malcolm Reeve was in his seventies, thin and silver-haired.
He wore a respirator over his face.
When he saw them, he abandoned the cabinet and ran.
Julian pursued him.
Elena pulled open the cabinet.
Folders and blood samples filled the drawers.
One file was labeled Carter, Thomas.
She grabbed it.
A gunshot echoed near the elevators.
Elena crouched.
Julian shouted.
The agents moved forward.
Reeve appeared through the smoke, holding a pistol against Julian’s neck.
“Drop your weapons.”
The agents obeyed.
Reeve looked at Elena.
“Give me the Carter file.”
She held it against her chest.
“You declared Victor Dane dead.”
“I signed a document.”
“You declared Richard Ashford dead.”
“Another document.”
“And my father?”
Reeve’s eyes shifted.
“Your father was never my patient.”
“Was he alive after the crash?”
Reeve tightened his grip on Julian.
“Give me the file.”
Elena opened the folder.
The first page was a surgical report.
Thomas Carter had been treated for fractured ribs, internal bleeding, and a head injury on the night he supposedly died.
The operation occurred in a private treatment room at Ashford Hall.
The physician’s signature belonged to Malcolm Reeve.
“You saved him,” Elena said.
“For several hours.”
“Then what happened?”
Reeve looked toward the flames.
“Edward came.”
“And?”
“He wanted Thomas moved to a hospital. Victor refused.”
“Who killed him?”
Reeve’s face tightened.
“I did not see.”
Julian struggled.
Reeve pressed the gun harder.
“Stop.”
Elena turned another page.
There was a handwritten note.
Patient regained consciousness at 2:40 a.m. Repeated the phrase, “Margaret must know about the second child.”
Elena stared at the words.
“What second child?”
Reeve’s eyes widened.
He had forgotten the note existed.
Julian used the moment.
He drove his elbow backward into Reeve’s ribs.
The gun fired.
A bullet struck the ceiling.
The agents tackled Reeve.
Julian fell to the floor, coughing.
Elena approached the doctor.
“What second child?”
Reeve laughed weakly beneath the respirator.
“Edward’s greatest secret.”
“Answer me.”
“Thomas discovered Victor was not acting alone.”
“With whom?”
Reeve looked at Julian.
“With an Ashford no one knew existed.”
The firefighters entered the floor.
Reeve was dragged toward the stairwell.
Elena carried the file out.
Downstairs, Margaret read the surgical report.
Her hands trembled at the reference to the second child.
Harrison studied her.
“Father had another child?”
Margaret sat in the lobby, surrounded by alarms, smoke, and evacuating employees.
“I lost a baby before Harrison was born.”
Harrison frowned.
“You had a miscarriage.”
“That is what Reeve told me.”
Elena looked toward the stairwell where the doctor had disappeared.
“Did you see the child?”
“No.”
“Were you conscious?”
Margaret’s face went white.
“I was sedated.”
Julian sat beside her.
“Mother, are you saying the baby may have lived?”
Margaret touched his face.
“There was a nurse. She told me I had delivered a boy. Then Reeve entered, and when I woke, Edward said the nurse was mistaken.”
Samuel searched the archived dates.
“The child would be sixty-one now.”
Harrison looked toward the burning floor.
“Victor is sixty-seven.”
“Then the child is someone else,” Elena said.
Moreno received a call.
Her expression changed.
“What is it?” Margaret asked.
“The federal team searched Reeve’s house.”
“And?”
“They found photographs of a man at different ages. School, military service, marriage.”
“Who is he?”
Moreno turned the phone around.
The latest photograph showed Samuel Pierce.
The attorney stared at his own face.
“That is impossible.”
On the back of the photograph, Reeve had written:
Samuel Edward Ashford.
May you like
First son.
Primary heir.
