Chapter 13: I Was the Original Target
Daniel called Vanessa back immediately.
Straight to voicemail.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Then he slammed his phone onto the kitchen counter.
"She's responsible. She knows exactly what happened to Dad.""
I held up the pharmacy receipt.
"Daniel, we need to understand what this document actually proves.""
He stared at me.
"Mom, someone tried to poison you. Dad took the medication instead. How much more do we need to understand?""
Margaret was still crying.
I turned toward her.
"Who collected the prescription?""
She shook her head.
"I don't know, ma'am. I only know that Thomas gave me the bottle.""
"Did he tell you it was meant for me?""
"No. He said your husband needed it.""
I examined the receipt.
The pharmacy address was printed at the top.
A small independent pharmacy in Stamford.
The prescription had been issued under my name, but the medication had been collected by someone named Claire Morgan.
I read the name aloud.
"Claire Morgan.""
Daniel looked at the paper.
"Vanessa's business partner.""
I nodded.
"Apparently.""
Margaret suddenly looked up.
"Mrs. Whitmore, there's something I remember.""
"What?""
"The morning after Mr. Richard died, Miss Claire came to the estate.""
I froze.
"Claire Morgan came here?""
"Yes. She arrived before the funeral arrangements were finalized. Mr. Thomas told me she was a family friend.""
Daniel frowned.
"Why would she come?""
"I don't know, sir. But she asked me where your mother's bedroom was.""
My stomach tightened.
"Why?""
Margaret lowered her eyes.
"She said she wanted to leave something for Mrs. Whitmore.""
"What?""
"A sympathy card.""
I stared at her.
"Did she give it to me?""
"No, ma'am. She asked me to put it on your dressing table.""
I remembered that morning.
I remembered the flowers.
The cards.
The endless stream of people expressing their condolences.
But I didn't remember Claire.
"Did you keep the card?""
Margaret nodded slowly.
"I think so.""
"Where?""
"In the old household archive. I saved many of the cards from that period.""
Daniel looked at me.
"Mom, we need to find it.""
Within twenty minutes, Margaret had brought down two storage boxes.
The first contained photographs and newspaper clippings.
The second held sympathy cards, funeral programs, and handwritten notes.
We searched through them until I found a cream envelope with a small silver border.
My name was written across the front.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
Inside was a simple card.
Dear Eleanor,
I am deeply sorry for your loss. Richard was a remarkable man, and I hope you find the strength to move forward.
With sympathy,
Claire Morgan.
I turned the card over.
There was something written in tiny letters near the bottom.
A series of numbers.
Daniel leaned closer.
"What's that?""
I recognized the format.
It was a bank account reference.
The same account number appeared in the foundation ledger beside the earliest Northbridge transfers.
I looked at Margaret.
"Did Claire leave this with you?""
"Yes, ma'am.""
"Did Thomas know?""
Margaret nodded.
"He told me to make sure it reached your bedroom.""
Daniel took the card.
"Why would someone leave a bank account number in a sympathy card?""
I looked at the handwriting.
"Because it wasn't a sympathy card.""
I turned it toward the light.
The silver border concealed a small impression beneath the paper.
Someone had pressed a thin sheet of carbon paper inside the folded card.
The numbers had been transferred from another document.
It was a crude way of hiding information in plain sight.
But what shocked me most was the date written beside the account reference.
October 14.
The day Richard died.
I looked at Daniel.
"Your father knew Claire was involved.""
He shook his head.
"Then why didn't he expose her?""
"Perhaps he was trying to protect us.""
Margaret suddenly stood.
"Mrs. Whitmore, there's another thing.""
I turned.
"What?""
"Before Mr. Richard died, he asked me to prepare a small suitcase for you.""
I frowned.
"A suitcase?""
"Yes. He said you might need to leave the estate quickly.""
My throat tightened.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"I thought it was just because he was worried about his health.""
"Where is it?""
Margaret hesitated.
"I kept it.""
She disappeared into the pantry and returned with a small leather case.
The leather was worn, but the brass clasps were intact.
Inside were two passports, several thousand dollars in cash, a photograph of Daniel as a child, and a folded letter.
The passports were issued in my name.
But the surname was different.
Eleanor Morgan.
I stared at them.
Daniel picked up the letter.
"Mom, this is Dad's handwriting.""
He opened it.
My dearest Eleanor,
If you ever find yourself in danger because of what I discovered, leave immediately. Do not trust Thomas. Do not trust anyone who tells you the investigation is over.
I have made arrangements for you to be safe.
I wanted to tell you everything, but I fear that doing so would place you in greater danger.
There is one thing I need you to understand.
If I am no longer here, the person who ordered the original transfer may still believe you possess the information they need.
They will come for you again.
Daniel stopped reading.
I took the letter from him.
At the bottom was another sentence.
The original authorization is hidden where we first promised to spend our retirement.
I looked at the words.
Our retirement.
Richard and I had dreamed of spending our later years in a small house overlooking the water in Maine.
We'd visited it once, years before his death.
It was a little wooden property near Camden.
We'd never bought it.
Or so I'd thought.
Daniel looked at me.
"Do you know what he means?""
I nodded slowly.
"Your father may have purchased that house without telling me.""
Daniel examined the letter again.
"Why would he hide the authorization there?""
"Because he didn't trust anyone in Connecticut.""
My phone rang.
Detective Harris.
I answered.
"Mrs. Whitmore, we need to speak urgently.""
"What's happened?""
"We've located Claire Morgan.""
I stood.
"Where?""
"She was found at a private residence in New Haven. She's agreed to cooperate.""
My heart began pounding.
"What has she told you?""
The detective paused.
"She claims the original plan was to poison you, not your husband.""
Daniel grabbed my hand.
I closed my eyes.
"Who ordered it?""
Another pause.
"She says she was paid by someone inside your family.""
"Who?""
The detective's answer came quietly.
"Your husband's brother.""
I looked at the letter again.
Then I heard the detective add something else.
"There's a complication, Mrs. Whitmore.""
"What?""
"Claire says Thomas wasn't acting alone.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Who was helping him?""
The detective hesitated.
"According to her statement, someone from your household was responsible for changing the medication after it arrived.""
I turned toward Margaret.
May you like
She was standing beside the pantry door.
And suddenly, I realized we still didn't know who had actually placed the bottle in Richard's hands.
