Chapter 7: The Ambulance at Patricia's House
For one terrible second, Cole couldn't hear anything except the blood pounding in his ears.
“What happened?”” he demanded.
Daniel Foster held the phone against his ear.
“I need the address,” he said.
“Was she conscious when they found her?””
Cole grabbed his jacket.
“Daniel!””
The young attorney ended the call.
“Emergency services received a report of a break-in at Patricia's house. A neighbor found her unconscious near the kitchen.””
Cole's face went white.
“Is she alive?””
“She was breathing when the ambulance arrived.””
“Then why are we standing here?””
Cole headed for the door.
Marcus caught his shoulder.
“Wait. We're coming with you.””
“I don't need—”
“Yes, you do,” Marcus interrupted.
“And you're not going alone.””
Daniel was already collecting his keys.
Evelyn struggled to stand.
“I'm coming, too.””
Marcus gently shook his head.
“Evelyn, you need to stay here until we know what's happening.””
“That's my family now.””
Cole stopped.
He looked at the elderly woman who had approached four strangers in a diner only hours earlier.
She had asked them to pretend to be her sons.
Now she was standing in front of him, looking at him as if his pain belonged to her.
He walked back and kissed her forehead.
“I'll call you, Mom.””
Evelyn covered her mouth.
It was the first time he had called her that.
“Go,” she whispered.
“Bring your mother home.””
Cole, Marcus, Daniel, and Ethan rushed outside.
Behind them, Margaret remained seated at the conference table.
She stared at the empty chair where Cole had been sitting.
Then she looked at the silver bird necklace resting beside Evelyn's purse.
Her lips moved.
“Elizabeth, what have I done?””
The hospital emergency entrance was crowded when they arrived.
A nurse directed them toward the waiting area.
Cole approached the reception desk.
“Patricia Bennett. She came in by ambulance.””
The receptionist typed something.
“Are you immediate family?””
“I'm her son.””
The woman looked up.
“Please take a seat. Someone will speak with you shortly.””
Cole didn't sit.
He paced between the chairs, running his hands through his hair.
Marcus stood near the entrance, speaking quietly with Daniel.
Ethan had stepped into a corner to call the estate attorney.
Nobody knew what to say.
Finally, a doctor emerged.
“Cole Bennett?””
Cole rushed forward.
“That's me. How is she?””
“Your mother suffered a head injury. She's stable, but she's still unconscious. We're monitoring her closely.””
“Will she wake up?””
“We're hopeful. We need to run additional tests.””
Cole swallowed.
“Can I see her?””
“Briefly. One person at a time.””
Cole followed the doctor.
Patricia lay beneath a white hospital blanket. A bandage covered the side of her forehead. Her silver hair had been brushed away from her face, and an IV line ran into her arm.
She looked smaller than he remembered.
Cole pulled a chair beside the bed.
“Mom?””
He took her hand.
“It's me.””
He tried to smile.
“I know you hate hospitals. I know you hate the food even more. So you need to wake up and start complaining.””
Nothing.
He rubbed her knuckles.
“You always told me that family isn't about blood. Remember?””
His voice cracked.
“You told me I was your son the day you brought me home.””
He lowered his head.
“I'm not ready to lose you.””
Behind him, Marcus quietly entered the room.
He didn't interrupt.
He simply stood beside the door.
After a moment, Cole looked up.
“Marcus?””
“Yeah?””
“Do you think she knew someone was coming?””
Marcus considered the question.
“I think she knew something was coming. That's why she called you.””
Cole stared at his mother.
Then he noticed something.
Patricia's right hand was curled around a small piece of paper.
He gently opened her fingers.
It was a torn corner of an envelope.
Three words were written on it in blue ink.
Not the notebook.
Cole frowned.
“What does that mean?””
Marcus leaned closer.
“Turn it over.””
On the back was another sentence.
The original is somewhere else.
Cole stared at the handwriting.
His mother's handwriting.
Before he could say anything, a nurse entered.
“I'm sorry, but visiting time is over for now.””
Cole folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.
He kissed Patricia's forehead.
“I'm going to find out what happened, Mom. I promise.””
Outside the hospital room, Daniel Foster was waiting.
“I spoke with the police,” he said.
“Did they find whoever did this?””
“Not yet. The neighbor reported seeing a dark vehicle leaving the property.””
Cole's expression hardened.
“Richard?””
“Possibly. But we don't have evidence.””
Ethan joined them.
“I checked the estate records. Patricia's name appears in a separate beneficiary file that hasn't been accessed in twenty-three years.””
“What does that mean?””
“It means someone may have known about the documents before we did.””
Daniel nodded.
“And there's something else. The safety deposit box listed in your father's note was closed six months ago.””
Cole frowned.
“Who closed it?””
Daniel checked his phone.
“The request came from an authorized representative.””
“Who?””
Daniel looked up.
“Richard Harrington.””
Cole closed his eyes.
Marcus stepped forward.
“Then we know where to start.””
“No,” Ethan said.
“We know where the evidence was supposed to be.””
He showed them a photograph of a bank receipt.
“The box was emptied. But according to the records, the contents were transferred to a private storage facility.””
Cole looked at the photograph.
A name appeared beneath the transfer authorization.
*HARRINGTON PRIVATE ARCHIVES.*
He recognized the address.
It was the old Harrington family house.
The same house where Evelyn had lived for forty-two years.
The same house where Thomas had hidden the blue notebook.
Cole looked at Marcus.
“We're going there.””
Marcus nodded.
But before they could leave, a nurse approached them.
“Mr. Bennett?””
Cole turned.
“Is my mother awake?””
“Not yet. But she asked us to give you something if you came back.””
She held out a small sealed envelope.
Cole recognized the handwriting immediately.
His mother had written his name across the front.
He opened it.
Inside was a single sentence.
If Richard finds the original recording, he will destroy it.
And beneath it was a name.
Not Richard's.
May you like
Not Margaret's.
*MICHAEL HARRINGTON.*
