Chapter 3 - The Doctor Who Said I Was Losing My Mind
"Dr. Steven Cole."
I whispered the name.
Evelyn stared at the declaration.
"You know him?"
"Daniel introduced us."
"When?"
"Three weeks ago."
"Why?"
I searched my memory.
Daniel had called it a casual dinner.
Steven Cole had arrived at the house around seven carrying a bottle of wine.
Mid-fifties.
Polished.
Friendly.
He asked about my sleep.
My appetite.
Whether grief had affected my memory.
At the time, I thought he was being kind.
Now I understood.
"He was evaluating me."
"Possibly."
"I never consented."
"Then his statement has serious problems."
I read the document again.
It claimed I had shown "significant confusion, impaired financial judgment, and memory disturbances."
My hands tightened.
"I beat him at chess."
Evelyn blinked.
"What?"
"After dinner. Daniel suggested we play. I beat Dr. Cole in twenty minutes."
For the first time all night, Evelyn smiled.
"Please tell me someone remembers that."
"Lilia complained because I wouldn't stop talking about it."
"Good."
Then the smile disappeared.
"We need evidence."
At eight the next morning, I sat in the borrowed apartment above Evelyn's sister's art gallery wearing the same clothes from the restaurant.
I had slept maybe two hours.
My cheek remained faintly red.
My phone contained nineteen missed calls from Daniel.
Seven from Lilia.
I didn't answer any.
Instead, I called my bank, my investment adviser, and the trust administrator.
By ten-thirty, every account was locked behind new authentication procedures.
By eleven, Daniel had been removed as my emergency contact.
At noon, Evelyn arranged for an independent physician to evaluate me.
I answered every question.
Date.
Location.
Recent events.
Financial decisions.
Memory exercises.
I passed easily.
The doctor wrote a preliminary statement confirming that I showed no evidence of cognitive impairment affecting my decision-making capacity.
I read the page twice.
Not because I doubted myself.
Because I wanted Daniel's accusation erased from my mind.
At one-thirty, Evelyn said, "Now we go back to the house."
I looked at her.
"I'm not ready."
"You don't need to confront them."
"Then why go?"
"Your personal property."
My clothes.
Robert's photographs.
Documents.
My jewelry.
The small wooden box containing his wedding ring.
I stood immediately.
We brought an off-duty security professional Evelyn knew.
His name was Marcus.
He looked like the kind of man who could stop an argument merely by entering the room.
When we reached Daniel's house, Lilia's car was gone.
Daniel's was in the driveway.
I used my key.
It didn't work.
I tried again.
Nothing.
"They changed the lock," I said.
Marcus tested the handle.
"Looks new."
Less than fourteen hours after throwing me out, they had changed the locks.
I called Daniel.
He answered immediately.
"Mom?"
"I'm outside."
There was silence.
"Why?"
"To collect my things."
"You can't just show up."
I almost admired the absurdity.
"I lived here yesterday."
"Lilia doesn't feel safe around you."
I looked at Marcus.
He heard it too.
"What exactly does Lilia believe I'm going to do?"
"You threatened us."
"No, Daniel. You threatened me."
"You're twisting things."
"Open the door."
"No."
"Then I'll have my attorney arrange retrieval."
His tone changed.
"Attorney?"
"Yes."
"You hired a lawyer?"
"Robert hired her twenty years ago."
Another silence.
"You mean Evelyn?"
There it was.
He knew exactly who she was.
"Open the door."
Ten seconds later, the lock clicked.
Daniel stood inside wearing jeans and a wrinkled shirt.
He looked as though he hadn't slept either.
His eyes went first to me.
Then Evelyn.
Then Marcus.
"What is this?"
"My witnesses."
His jaw tightened.
"Mom, you're being ridiculous."
I walked past him.
Lilia's designer luggage sat near the staircase.
Four enormous suitcases.
Cruise luggage.
I looked at Daniel.
"Still planning to go?"
He said nothing.
Upstairs, my bedroom door was open.
At first, everything appeared normal.
Then I noticed the desk.
Every drawer had been pulled open.
Papers were scattered across the floor.
The small locked filing case I kept beneath the desk had been forced.
I stopped.
Marcus stepped around me.
"Don't touch anything."
Daniel appeared behind us.
"What happened?"
I turned.
"You tell me."
"I haven't been in here."
"Your house."
"Maybe Lilia was looking for something."
"What?"
"I don't know."
Evelyn photographed everything.
I went to the closet.
Most of my clothes remained.
My suitcase was gone.
"Where's my luggage?"
Daniel shrugged.
I opened the cabinet where I kept Robert's belongings.
The wooden box was missing.
My breath caught.
"Daniel."
"What?"
"Where is your father's ring?"
He looked confused.
"What ring?"
"The wooden box."
"I don't know."
I stepped toward him.
"His wedding ring was in it."
"Mom, I don't know anything about that."
My anger rose.
"Then find Lilia."
"I can't control what she does."
"You seem remarkably comfortable benefiting from it."
His face hardened.
"Are you going to keep punishing me because Lilia lost her temper?"
"This isn't about a slap anymore."
"Then what?"
Evelyn stepped forward.
"Mr. Hayes, I strongly recommend you stop talking."
Daniel looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because any explanation you offer can become relevant later."
Fear crossed his face.
Just briefly.
"What does that mean?"
Evelyn didn't answer.
I packed clothing into garbage bags because my luggage was missing.
Marcus carried them downstairs.
Then I entered the guest bathroom and stopped.
A prescription bottle sat beside the sink.
My name was printed on it.
I picked it up.
The medication name meant nothing to me.
I had never seen it before.
"Evelyn."
She entered.
I showed her.
"Do not open it."
"It's mine."
"No. Your name is on it. That's different."
The prescribing physician was Dr. Steven Cole.
My skin turned cold.
"What is this medicine?"
Evelyn searched the name.
Her face changed.
"It's sometimes used as a sedative."
I thought back.
My evening tea.
The headaches I'd experienced over the past month.
The nights when I slept twelve hours and woke disoriented.
I had blamed grief.
Age.
Stress.
No.
I didn't want to believe it.
Not yet.
"Maybe there's an explanation."
Evelyn looked at me carefully.
"Maybe."
Daniel was downstairs.
We carried the bottle with us.
When I showed him, he stared.
"I've never seen that."
"It's prescribed to me."
"Maybe you forgot."
Again.
That word.
Forgot.
I watched his face.
For the first time, I wondered how many times he had used it before.
You forgot.
You're tired.
You're confused.
Mom, we already discussed this.
Maybe I hadn't been losing my memory.
Maybe they had been teaching me not to trust it.
I left the house with three bags of clothing and without Robert's ring.
Back at the apartment, Evelyn contacted the pharmacy.
We learned the prescription had been collected twice.
Both times by an authorized pickup person.
Lilia Hayes.
I sat motionless.
"Can we prove she gave it to me?"
"No."
"Then don't accuse her yet."
Evelyn nodded.
By evening, Daniel had stopped calling.
Lilia sent one message.
YOU ARE DESTROYING THIS FAMILY OVER MONEY.
I read it aloud.
Evelyn said, "People who want your money often become offended when you call the problem money."
I deleted the message.
Then another arrived.
This time from an unknown number.
MARGARET, YOU DON'T KNOW ME. MY NAME IS REBECCA SLOAN. I WORKED FOR DANIEL.
I stared.
A second message came.
PLEASE DON'T TELL HIM I CONTACTED YOU.
A photograph followed.
It showed Daniel sitting across from Dr. Cole in a coffee shop.
Between them lay a folder.
Even from the blurry photograph, I recognized the top sheet.
My estate plan.
Then Rebecca sent one final message.
I HAVE COPIES OF WHAT THEY WERE PLANNING.
I typed:
Where are you?
Her answer arrived instantly.
DON'T COME ALONE.
Evelyn read it over my shoulder.
"Could be a trap."
"Or the first person willing to tell me the truth."
We arranged to meet Rebecca the next morning at Evelyn's office.
At 9:03, the reception phone rang.
Evelyn answered.
Her expression tightened.
"What?"
She looked at me.
"Rebecca isn't downstairs."
"Then where is she?"
Evelyn listened.
Then slowly lowered the receiver.
"Someone left a package for you."
We went to the lobby.
A plain brown envelope sat on the security desk.
My name was written across the front.
Inside was a flash drive.
May you like
And a handwritten note.
IF I DON'T SHOW UP, WATCH THE VIDEO FIRST.
