PART 6:

Nobody’s there that late except me and sometimes Patterson himself catching up on paperwork. Detective Montgomery nodded, taking notes. And this was a Tuesday. Wednesday, actually, November 15th. I’d switched shifts with another cleaner because he had a family emergency. Aaron took a sip of coffee and grimaced. It was terrible, but it was hot.

I was mopping the administrative wing around 1:30 in the morning. The offices are supposed to be empty that late, but I heard voices coming from Patterson’s private office. Two men talking low. Did you recognize the voices? Park asked. Not at first. I almost left. Figured it was none of my business, but then one of them said something about the Cross funeral, and I stopped.

Aaron’s jaw tightened at the memory. Evelyn Cross’s death had been all over the news. Tech billionaire dies suddenly. You couldn’t avoid it. And I remember thinking it was sad how young she was. 43. That’s not old. So you listened, Montgomery said. No judgment in his voice, just statement of fact. I listened.

The door was cracked open maybe 2 in. I could see shadows moving. One of them, I realized now it was Marcus Cross was pacing, agitated. The other one, the doctor, he was sitting down. His voice was shaky. Aaron closed his eyes, pulling the memory into sharp focus. He’d spent the last two days replaying that conversation in his head, making sure he had every word right.

Marcus said, “We need the burial by Friday at the latest. Saturday morning would be ideal. Quick turnaround, fewer questions.” And the doctor, Dr. Webb, he said, “This is insane, Marcus. If anyone runs a toxicology screen,” and Marcus cut him off. Nobody’s running anything. You signed the death certificate. natural causes, cardiac event.

Who’s going to question the family physician? Detective Park leaned forward. What did Dr. Webb say to that? He said, “What if she wakes up just like that? What if she wakes up?” And there was this long silence. And then Marcus laughed. Not a happy laugh. Cold. He said, “That’s why we bury her Saturday morning, Harrison. The compound you gave her will keep her under for 48 hours, maybe 50.

We put her in the ground Friday or Saturday, and even if the drug wears off early, she’s 6 ft under before she can do anything about it. The detectives exchanged glances. Montgomery’s pen had stopped moving. Those were his exact words? Park asked. Even if the drug wears off early, she’s 6 ft under. Exact words.

I’ve got a good memory for conversations. It’s what made me a good paramedic. remembering patient histories, medication interactions, details that mattered. Aaron’s voice went quiet. It’s also what’s made the last seven years hell. Remembering every word of my daughter’s last phone call. Park gave him a moment, then gently pressed forward. What else did they say? Dr.

Webb was falling apart. He kept saying it was murder, that he couldn’t go through with it, that he’d already done too much. And Marcus got very calm. That’s what scared me most, actually, how calm he got. He said, “Harrison, listen to me very carefully. You’ve already administered three doses of the compound.

Your signature is on every prescription, every medical note. If you back out now, if you develop a conscience now, you’re not saving anyone. You’re just guaranteeing we both go to prison while Evelyn dies anyway from the cumulative dose already in her system.” “Was that true?” Montgomery asked. “Would the cumulative dose have killed her anyway?” “I don’t know.

I’m not a doctor. Not anymore. But Dr. Webb believed it or wanted to believe it. He stopped arguing after that. Aaron’s hands tightened around the coffee cup. Marcus told him the burial was set for Saturday at 11:00. Quick service, immediate interment, no delays. He said he’d already bribed the cemetery foreman to have the plot filled and covered by noon.

No chance for second thoughts, he said. No opportunity for anyone to ask questions. Did they mention why? Park asked. Why Marcus wanted his wife dead? Money control the company? Aaron shrugged. Marcus said something about divorce lawyers circling and forensic accountants finding things they shouldn’t find. He said once Evelyn was gone, the insurance payout plus his inheritance plus his stock options would make him untouchable. And Dr.

Webb said, “What about the board at Helix?” And Marcus laughed again. same cold laugh. He said the board would fall in line once he controlled Evelyn’s voting shares. He’d already lined up support from three key members who were tired of Evelyn’s ethics crusade. Detective Park sat back in her chair processing. And you heard all this through a cracked door at 1:30 in the morning. Yes.

Why didn’t you call the police right then? It was the question Aaron had been dreading. The question he’d been asking himself for two days straight. Because seven years ago, I did call the police, Aaron said quietly. Multiple times about Richard Fenton beating his wife. And you know what happened? Nothing. He was connected.

Had friends in the department, in the DA’s office, in places that mattered. Reports got filed and buried. And eventually, he killed two people because the system failed. So, you didn’t trust us to handle it? Montgomery said. No judgment, just understanding. I didn’t trust anyone to handle it. And I thought, maybe I misheard. Maybe I misunderstood.

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