Chapter 16 - THE RECEIPT
Daniel denied writing the note.
Then he saw the original.
Detective Hale brought him in.
I was not present for the first interview.
I heard the recording later.
Daniel stared at the paper for almost a minute.
Then said,
“I wrote it.”
Hale asked,
“What does it mean?”
Daniel rubbed his face.
“My mother asked me to pick up her prescription.”
“And the note?”
“I wrote reminders on receipts.”
“‘Mom says this works when Rachel gets worked up.’ What worked?”
Silence.
“Mr. Parker.”
Daniel answered.
“Lorazepam.”
“Did you give it to Rachel?”
“Not then.”
“Did your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why would your mother discuss medicating your fiancée?”
Another silence.
Then Daniel said,
“Rachel had panic attacks.”
I nearly threw the recording device across the room.
I had never had panic attacks.
Not before the Parker family.
Detective Hale apparently knew that too.
“Her medical records don’t reflect that.”
Daniel answered,
“She would get overwhelmed.”
“Did a doctor diagnose her?”
“No.”
“Then why were you discussing prescription sedatives for her?”
Daniel’s breathing changed.
“My mother said a tiny amount could calm someone down.”
Hale’s voice hardened.
“Your mother is not a physician.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever administer your mother’s prescription medication to Rachel without her knowledge before the lake house?”
Long silence.
Then the lie broke.
“Yes.”
My entire body went cold.
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
“Estimate.”
“Maybe three.”
“Before the lake house?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After fights.”
“Whose fights?”
“Rachel and my mother.”
“Did Rachel consent?”
“No.”
“What did you put it in?”
Silence.
“Tea.”
I stopped the recording.
I could not listen.
Not yet.
I had loved him.
That fact suddenly felt humiliating.
Monica sat beside me.
“You don’t have to continue now.”
“Yes, I do.”
I pressed play.
Hale asked,
“Why?”
Daniel was crying.
“Because Mom said Rachel would calm down and forget how angry she was.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“Did she lose memory?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did that concern you?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“I stopped.”
“When?”
“After the miscarriage.”
My hands clenched.
“Why then?”
Hale asked.
Daniel’s answer destroyed what little remained.
“Because I was afraid the medication contributed.”
I paused again.
For six years, Daniel had allowed me to believe my miscarriage was random.
He had privately feared he had given me medication without consent around the time I lost the pregnancy.
Whether the drug caused anything medically was unknown.
The betrayal did not depend on causation.
He suspected.
He hid it.
He let me grieve without truth.
The early clue had always been there.
Every missing hour.
Every unexplained bruise.
Every cup Evelyn brought me.
Every time Daniel said,
“You need to calm down.”
He had meant it literally.
He and his mother had taken away my ability to remain angry long enough to act.
That was the purpose.
Not sleep.
Not comfort.
Control.
When Daniel finally came to see me, he did not ask forgiveness.
He sat across from me in a lawyer’s conference room.
“I should be charged.”
I stared at him.
He looked destroyed.
“That is not for me to decide.”
“I gave you medication without consent.”
“Yes.”
“I lied.”
“Yes.”
“I helped them.”
“Yes.”
Each answer landed.
He nodded.
Then slid a key across the table.
“What is this?”
“My father’s private office at the company.”
“Police searched the company.”
“Not this room.”
I stared at him.
“He has a concealed archive.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I helped build it.”
My pulse quickened.
“What is inside?”
“Original recordings.”
“Of what?”
“Family meetings.”
“Why record them?”
“Dad recorded everything important.”
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
Of course.
Richard trusted no one.
Not even his own family.
Daniel continued.
“There’s a recording from the morning after your miscarriage.”
My throat tightened.
“What does it say?”
He looked at me.
“I don’t know. Dad never let me hear it.”
“Then why does it matter?”
“Because I remember what he told Mom afterward.”
“What?”
May you like
Daniel’s voice became barely audible.
“He said, ‘If Rachel ever hears that recording, none of us survive it.’”
