Two tablets recovered.
One was a prescription sedative.
Not ordered for Margaret.
The other was a blood-pressure medication.
Also not ordered.
Hospital security notified.
Daniel stared.
Why had nobody told him?
Then he found the answer.
Internal incident review.
Security interviewed several volunteers.
One volunteer admitted entering Margaret’s room.
The name had been redacted.
The stated reason was that the patient appeared anxious and the volunteer offered medication she claimed had been “left by family.”
No family member confirmed leaving medication.
The volunteer denied personally placing pills in the cup.
Security could not establish who did.
The volunteer was removed from patient-support duties pending review.
Then:
Volunteer resigned before follow-up interview.
Daniel’s chest tightened.
He turned the page.
Attached witness description.
Female.
Late forties.
Heavy build.
Dark brown hair.
Purple-framed sunglasses.
Daniel closed his eyes.
Karen.
Almost certainly Karen.
Then he found the name.
Not in the main report.
In a scanned handwritten attachment somebody apparently failed to redact.
K. WHITAKER.
Daniel stood.
His chair scraped across the floor.
For a moment he could hear nothing.
Three years.
Karen had been there.
His mother knew her.
Karen had access to the room.
Unapproved medication had been found.
Then, three years later, Karen moved next door.
Started obsessing over his trash cans.
Photographed his property.
Left notes.
Then burned his mailbox on the exact day a hospital letter arrived reopening the medical-record issue.
Daniel picked up his phone.
He almost called Karen.
Then stopped.
No.
Not yet.
Records first.
He called Officer Torres.
CHAPTER 7: THE SECOND INVESTIGATION
Torres arrived that afternoon.
This time alone.
Daniel placed the documents across the dining table.
Torres read slowly.
Then looked up.
“You’re telling me she was present around your mother’s hospital room before she died?”
“Yes.”
“Did your mother die because of these pills?”
“I don't know.”
“Were they administered?”
“The file says pills were found before staff confirmed ingestion.”
“So maybe not.”
“Maybe.”
Torres nodded.
“We have to be careful.”
“I know.”
“This could be coincidence.”
“I know.”
“But.”
Daniel waited.
Torres tapped the mailbox report.
“She set fire to mail containing a hospital-records notice.”
“Yes.”
“And she previously had a connection to the hospital.”
“Yes.”
“Does she know this letter existed?”
“I don’t know.”
Torres frowned.
“Why burn the mailbox then?”
“She says trash cans.”
“That's a hell of an escalation.”
Daniel leaned back.
“There's something else.”
He told Torres about his mother's final words.
Purple glasses.
Torres did not dismiss it.
He also did not overreact.
“Could be medication confusion.”
“Yes.”
“Could also be memory.”
“Yes.”
Torres looked toward Karen’s house.
“I’m going to need to send this upstairs.”
“To who?”
“Detectives.”