Chapter 3 - THE FIRE AT SAINT AURELIA
By the time Ethan reached Saint Aurelia, flames had already consumed the eastern wing.
Firefighters moved across the grounds beneath a sky filled with smoke.
The clinic stood behind a stone wall in the Massachusetts countryside.
Officially, it had treated wealthy patients requiring privacy.
Unofficially, no one could explain why most records ended nine years earlier.
Ethan showed the transfer order to the fire chief.
“Was this patient inside?”
“We evacuated twelve people.”
“None were registered under that name.”
“What about unregistered patients?”
The fire chief looked toward the building.
“We found rooms without numbers.”
“Restraints were attached to several beds.”
Ethan felt something cold move through him.
Rosa stood beside the ambulance with the head of security.
She had insisted on coming.
“I cleaned Mrs. Whitmore’s private apartment for seven years,” she said.
“She visited this clinic every month.”
“Why did you never tell me?”
“Because I believed she came for treatment.”
“Treatment for what?”
Rosa lowered her eyes.
“She said grief.”
A firefighter approached carrying a metal lockbox.
It had been found inside the clinic director’s office.
The fire had damaged the exterior, but the contents survived.
Inside were medication schedules.
Payments authorized by Eleanor.
And photographs of John Mercer.
The first showed Richard Whitmore unconscious in a hospital bed ten years earlier.
The second showed him awake.
The third showed him signing papers with his hand held by another person.
Ethan stared at the images.
His father had survived.
Someone had kept him hidden.
A final photograph showed Olivia Whitmore standing beside Richard.
The date was two days before her supposed boating accident.
Ethan’s knees nearly failed.
Rosa caught his arm.
“My sister knew.”
The lockbox also contained a small digital recorder.
The battery was dead.
A technician promised to recover the files.
Ethan called the hospital.
Claire answered after the third ring.
“They found him?”
“No.”
“They found proof.”
Her breath caught.
“Olivia was there.”
Claire became silent.
“What do you know about my sister?”
“Only what she told me.”
“Tell me now.”
“She believed Eleanor arranged your father’s crash.”
“She also believed the stolen money was used to buy Saint Aurelia.”
Ethan looked toward the burning roof.
“Why would my mother keep him alive?”
“To sign documents.”
“To transfer voting rights.”
“To convince doctors he was incompetent.”
“And maybe because killing him immediately would have raised questions.”
A firefighter shouted from the rear entrance.
They had found a hidden stairwell beneath the clinic chapel.
Ethan followed the rescue team underground.
The lower level had been protected from the fire.
There were six empty rooms.
Each door locked from the outside.
The final room contained a wheelchair.
A blood pressure monitor.
And a sentence scratched into the wall.
ETHAN, DO NOT TRUST THE BOARD.
Beneath it was a date from three days earlier.
Richard Whitmore had been there recently.
On the floor lay a torn strip of fabric from a dark wool coat.
May you like
Rosa recognized it.
“Mrs. Whitmore wore this at the gala.”
