Chapter 8 - The Price of Being Quiet
Beth didn’t raise her voice.
“It’s already ugly.”
“Lily needs continuity of care.”
“She’s getting care.”
“From people who haven’t treated her.”
“Exactly.”
Grant paused.
Then his tone softened.
“Beth, I know money has been tight.”
Lily watched her aunt’s face.
Beth’s grip changed around the phone.
“Finish that sentence.”
“I’m offering to help.”
“With what attached?”
“A little cooperation.”
Dr. Patel held out her hand.
Beth gave her the phone.
“This is Dr. Meera Patel.
Your niece is being evaluated.
If you have relevant medical information, you can send it through my office.”
The call ended.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Noah said, “He does that.”
They turned toward him.
“Makes it sound like he’s being nice.”
Rosa closed her eyes.
After she was fired, Grant had offered six months’ pay in exchange for signing a statement.
The statement said Emily had been distracted while driving.
It also said Rosa had observed Lily refusing therapy.
“Did you sign?” Lily asked.
“No.”
“Is that why you lost your apartment?”
Rosa looked at Noah.
The boy stared at the floor.
Beth pulled out a chair.
“Sit down.”
“We don’t need—”
“Sit.
You can argue after coffee.”
That afternoon, Andrew arrived with Claire.
He brought no flowers.
Lily appreciated that more than she wanted to.
Claire laid out what they knew.
Northline was owned through two companies.
One of those companies had made payments to a consulting business connected to Grant.
The foundation had paid above market price for the vans.
Emily had found out.
“And Keller?” Beth asked.
“His private practice received consulting payments from the same business.”
Lily felt cold.
“He was keeping me sleepy for money?”
“We don’t know why he prescribed what he did,” Claire said.
“We need records before we say more.”
Andrew looked at his daughter.
“I should have checked.”
“You keep saying that like it does something.”
He accepted it without defending himself.
Then Rosa took a folded envelope from her bag.
“Emily gave me one more thing.”
Inside was a small brass key.
A number had been scratched into its paper tag.
Lily knew it instantly.
“The music school.”
Her mother had rented a practice room there every Thursday.
“She said the originals were somewhere safe,” Rosa whispered.
Andrew reached for his coat.
Claire’s phone lit up.
She read the message.
May you like
Then she looked at the key.
“The school had a break-in this morning.”
