Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN BEHIND VANESSA
Her name was Rachel Moore.
I remembered her carrying Vanessa’s files into court.
I remembered her whispering to Vanessa’s attorney.
I remembered the way she avoided looking at me when Mom’s videos were played.
“You worked for my sister,” I said.
Rachel glanced toward the empty parking lot.
“I worked for her attorney.”
“You were part of the lawsuit.”
“Yes.”
“You helped accuse me of abusing my mother.”
“I organized documents.”
“You helped them build the case.”
“Yes.”
I remained standing.
“Why should I believe anything you say?”
“Because I quit.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Why?”
Rachel pushed a flash drive across the table.
“Because Vanessa asked me to destroy this.”
I did not touch it.
“What’s on it?”
“Hospital footage.”
“The recording you mentioned?”
“And emails.”
“Between whom?”
“Vanessa and Dr. Pierce.”
My anger rose so quickly that my hands began to shake.
“You had this during the trial?”
“No.”
“When did you find it?”
“After the case was dismissed.”
She rubbed her palms against her jeans.
“Vanessa’s attorney asked me to clear old discovery files from a private server.”
“And you found these?”
“I found a folder labeled Lakeview.”
“Why would hospital footage be on his server?”
“Because Vanessa gave it to him.”
“Why?”
“She wanted him to know exactly what could be used against her.”
I sat across from Rachel.
“Start at the beginning.”
She looked around again.
“Your mother became suspicious of Vanessa before the diagnosis.”
“Why?”
“She discovered transfers from a joint account.”
“What joint account?”
“An emergency account she opened with Vanessa years ago.”
I remembered Mom mentioning it once.
She had added Vanessa because California was far away and Mom believed one daughter should be able to access money if something happened to her.
Mom had not added me because I lived nearby.
She thought I would already be there.
That trust had cost her.
“How much did Vanessa take?”
“Almost eighty thousand dollars.”
I stared at her.
“That was before Mom died?”
“Before she was diagnosed.”
“Did Mom confront her?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“There are emails.”
Rachel opened her laptop.
The first message was from Mom to Vanessa.
I read it slowly.
VANESSA, I SAW THE WITHDRAWALS.
YOU SAID THE MONEY WAS FOR AN EMERGENCY.
YOUR CREDIT CARD DEBT IS NOT MY EMERGENCY.
RETURN IT.
Vanessa’s answer came six minutes later.
YOU GAVE ME ACCESS.
YOU CANNOT ACCUSE ME OF STEALING MONEY I WAS ALLOWED TO USE.
Mom replied once.
I GAVE YOU ACCESS BECAUSE I TRUSTED YOU.
THAT WAS MY MISTAKE.
I pressed a hand against my mouth.
Mom had never told me.
She had carried that betrayal alone.
“What happened next?” I asked.
“Vanessa learned about the Lakeview trust.”
“How?”
“Dr. Pierce.”
“Why would Mom’s neurologist know?”
“He was dating Vanessa.”
I looked up sharply.
“What?”
Rachel nodded.
“They had been seeing each other for nearly three years.”
“Vanessa was married.”
“She still is.”
“Did her husband know?”
“I doubt it.”
My sister had posted photographs of beach vacations, anniversaries, and candlelit dinners.
Her husband, Mark, always stood beside her smiling.
I had envied the life she displayed.
Now I wondered whether any part of it had been real.
“Dr. Pierce told Vanessa about the trust?” I asked.
“He saw a reference to it in your mother’s medical file.”
“Why would financial information be in a medical file?”
“Your mother asked him for a competency assessment.”
“For the deed?”
“At first, no.”
Rachel opened another email.
Mom had written to Dr. Pierce requesting a formal evaluation because she wanted to change her estate plan.
He forwarded the email to Vanessa less than an hour later.
Vanessa answered.
HOW MUCH DOES SHE HAVE?
Dr. Pierce replied.
MORE THAN YOU THINK.
A wave of nausea moved through me.
“He violated her privacy.”
“Yes.”
“What did Vanessa do?”
“She flew to Ohio.”
“I don’t remember her visiting then.”
“She stayed at a hotel.”
“She didn’t come to the house?”
“Only at night.”
The anonymous nurse’s story returned to me.
Papers.
A pen placed in Mom’s hand.
Visiting after hours.
“Show me the video.”
Rachel inserted the flash drive.
The footage was grainy and silent.
A date appeared in the corner.
It was six months after Mom’s diagnosis.
Mom sat in a hospital bed.
Her hair was loose around her shoulders.
Her eyes were half closed.
Vanessa entered carrying the blue folder.
Dr. Pierce followed.
He shut the door.
Vanessa removed several pages.
She placed a pen in Mom’s hand.
Mom looked down but did not write.
Vanessa leaned close to her face.
Even without sound, I recognized the sharp movement of her mouth.
She was speaking angrily.
Mom shook her head.
Vanessa gripped her wrist.
I stood so fast the table moved.
“She touched her.”
Rachel paused the video.
“There’s more.”
“Play it.”
Vanessa forced the pen toward the page.
Mom pulled back.
Dr. Pierce stepped between them and injected something into the tube connected to Mom’s arm.
Within seconds, her body relaxed.
Vanessa placed the document beneath her hand.
Then she guided the pen across the signature line.
I could not breathe.
I had cleaned Mom’s body.
Fed her.
Held her during nightmares.
And while I had been believing my sister was merely absent, she had been doing something far worse.
“She drugged her.”
“We don’t know what was in the syringe.”
“He drugged her.”
“It looks that way.”
“Why wasn’t this footage used at trial?”
“The hospital system was replaced the following year.”
“Then how did you get it?”
“Carol Bennett copied it.”
“The nurse who died?”
“Yes.”
“So the woman who called me wasn’t Carol.”
“No.”
“Who was she?”
Rachel looked toward the kitchen doorway.
“I was.”
“You disguised your voice.”
“I needed to know whether you were working with Harris.”
“Why are you afraid of him?”
“Because he knew about the withdrawals.”
“That doesn’t mean he helped Vanessa.”
“No.”
Rachel closed the laptop.
“But the night this video was recorded, Mr. Harris entered the hospital room twenty minutes later.”
“Is that on camera?”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
She clicked another file.
Mr. Harris entered the room holding the original trust.
He spoke to Vanessa.
She handed him the signed amendment.
He looked at it for several seconds.
Then he placed it inside his briefcase.
My chest tightened.
“He took it.”
“Yes.”
“He said he had never seen it.”
“He lied.”
“Why would he help Mom later?”
“I don’t know.”
A car turned into the parking lot.
Rachel looked through the window.
Her face went pale.
“We have to leave.”
A black SUV stopped beside my car.
Two men stepped out.
“Who are they?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
One of them tried the handle of my driver’s door.
The other looked directly through the diner window.
Rachel grabbed the laptop.
“Back exit.”
We ran through the kitchen.
The rear door opened into a narrow field bordered by trees.
Rachel hurried toward an old sedan parked behind a dumpster.
A shout came from inside the diner.
We reached her car.
She unlocked it.
Then a man appeared around the side of the building.
Rachel screamed.
I picked up a rusted metal tray from the ground and threw it.
The tray struck the wall beside him.
He flinched long enough for us to get inside the car.
Rachel started the engine.
The sedan shot backward through wet gravel.
The man grabbed the passenger handle, but the car spun away.
We reached the road.
The black SUV followed.
“Call the police,” I said.
“My phone is in the diner.”
I dialed 911.
Before the operator answered, the SUV struck us from behind.
Rachel lost control.
The sedan slid across the road.
Trees rushed toward my window.
Then everything went black.
When I opened my eyes, the car was tilted in a ditch.
Smoke drifted from the hood.
May you like
Rachel was unconscious beside me.
The flash drive was gone.
