Sheriff, you need to see this. Ben went upstairs immediately. Sam followed him. I stayed kneeling beside Janet while a medic wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and asked her gentle questions.
I answered some of them, but not others. Every few seconds her eyes returned to me, checking that I was still there. And I was. I would have stayed until the end of the world.
A minute later, Ben returned to the basement, and the look on his face made my stomach sink. “What’s wrong?” I asked. He looked first at Janet and then at me.
“There’s a locked file box upstairs,” he said. Photos, forged signatures, background documents, copies of the death certificate. “I’m not sure.” “What else?” Sam asked from behind him. Ben’s voice dropped.
There’s another name in some of the paperwork. Someone who helped them make the death official. The air around me turned icy. Who? I whispered. Ben looked directly at me.
Michael Reeves. For a second that name meant nothing. Then it hit me hard. Janet’s former family doctor, the man who hugged me at the funeral, the man who signed the papers saying my daughter was gone.
And then, suddenly, I understood something horrifying. Ryan and Linda hadn’t done this alone. For a few seconds, no one moved in that basement. Dr. Michael Reeves. The name hung in the air like smoke after a fire.
I felt Janet’s fingers tighten around mine. Her skin was cold. Her breathing had become shallow again. Even the nurse beside her paused for a second, then looked down and continued working, taking her pulse, asking gentle questions, adjusting the blanket over her shoulders.
But I couldn’t hear any of that clearly anymore. All I heard was that name. Dr. Rees had been our family doctor for years. He had treated Janet when she was little and had such a bad case of the flu that she slept for two days.
He had checked her ears, listened to her chest, told her to eat more vegetables, and once gave her a smiling sun sticker when she was 7 years old because she had a shot and didn’t cry.
He went to my husband’s funeral. He went to Janet’s memorial service. He stood beside me in the church aisle and said, “I am so sorry for your loss.” And now Seriff Ben was telling me that that same man had helped bury my daughter alive with papers.
My stomach churned so violently that I had to grab the edge of Janet’s bed. Sam spoke first. His voice sounded raspy. “Since he’s recording, you’d better tell me you’re wrong.”
Ben already looked tired. Tired in that way a good man gets tired when the world teaches him something dirty. I hope I’m wrong. Janet slowly raised her head.
Her eyes seemed empty and wounded, yet resolute. Now she was listening intently, each word striking her like another stone. “She came here twice,” she whispered. We all stared at her.
Ben took another step closer. Dr. Rees came here. Janet nodded once. The first time was at the beginning. I was weak. I had cried and screamed so much I could hardly speak.
Ryan told him I was confused because of a head injury. Then Dr. Rees went down to the basement, examined my eyes, and asked me my name and the date.
His mouth trembled. I kept begging him to help me. I told him who I was. I told him Rayan was lying. I could barely stand to listen to him, but I had to. I had to know every detail.
“And what did he do?” I asked quietly. Janet looked at me, and I saw her eyes welling up with tears again. She told me to rest. The room seemed to tilt. Sam made a sound of pure disgust and turned away, rubbing his face with both hands.
Jane swallowed hard and continued. The second time she brought more pills. Linda said they were to help calm me down. I stopped swallowing them. Eventually, I would hide some under my tongue and spit them out later.
The nurse looked up abruptly at that. “Do you know what those pills were called?” Janet shook her head. “No, some made me sleepy, others made me feel heavy, others made it hard to think.”
Ben’s expression darkened. We’ll analyze everything we found above. I looked at my daughter and felt a deep, terrible pain pierce me. She had spent five years struggling to keep her own mind clear while the people around her constructed a false story and treated her like a ghost.
I brushed the hair from her forehead. You were very brave. Her eyes welled up. She was scared the whole time. I know. That was the truth. Brave people are often terrified.
The thing is, she’s still going ahead anyway. One of the paramedics, a young woman with a calm face and tired eyes, spoke softly. “Sheriff, we need to get her to the hospital soon.”
She’s dehydrated and underweight, and I’m worried about the long-term effects of the medication. Ben nodded for another two minutes. Then he looked at Janet again. “Can you tell me when Dr. Reeves last came?”
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