Chapter 9 - THE FAMILY’S FIRST VICTIM
Lydia did not cry when Caroline said her name.
She laughed.
A small, broken sound.
“Of course.”
I looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
She leaned against the wall.
“My first therapist.”
Daniel’s head lifted.
“What about her?”
“Dad chose her.”
His face changed.
Lydia nodded.
“Every time I told Dr. Warren that Mom screamed at me, hit me, locked me outside, or threatened me, Dad somehow knew exactly what I said.”
Daniel stared.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Lydia looked at him.
“You were away at college. You don’t know.”
Caroline held the folder closer to the camera.
“There are copies of behavioral reports.”
Lydia’s expression hardened.
“I was fourteen.”
Caroline read silently.
Then stopped.
“Oh.”
“What?”
Caroline hesitated.
Lydia snapped,
“Read it.”
Caroline did.
“‘Patient continues to make allegations against mother. Father concerned patient is developing manipulative attention-seeking behavior.’”
Lydia closed her eyes.
I felt sick.
“How old?”
“Fourteen.”
Caroline flipped another page.
“‘Recommend limiting patient’s unsupervised communication with extended family until behavior stabilizes.’”
Lydia whispered,
“They isolated me.”
Daniel stepped backward.
“No.”
She rounded on him.
“Yes.”
“Dad told me you were self-harming.”
“I scratched my arms because Mom locked me in the laundry room for six hours.”
Daniel’s face went blank.
“What?”
“You don’t know anything.”
Her voice rose for the first time.
“You know what they told you.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Caroline lowered the folder.
“Richard built records before anyone could accuse the family.”
Detective Hale entered quietly near the end of the call.
He listened.
Then asked Caroline whether she would be willing to provide the documents formally.
“Yes.”
“Would you give a statement?”
“Yes.”
“Would you testify if necessary?”
Caroline stared at Daniel.
Then at me.
“Yes.”
When the call ended, Daniel sat down.
He looked physically ill.
“I thought Lydia hated Mom.”
Lydia laughed.
“I was afraid of her.”
“I thought you made things up.”
“You wanted to.”
“I was nineteen.”
“And at thirty-eight?”
He had no answer.
Dr. Foster returned later that morning.
He reviewed my treatment plan.
Two ribs.
Shoulder injury.
Concussion precautions.
Pain control.
No lifting.
Follow-up.
Then he said something I did not expect.
“Your toxicology results raise another concern.”
“What?”
“The amount of lorazepam in your system.”
I looked at him.
“It’s higher than we would expect from accidental trace exposure.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“Enough to cause sedation, impaired coordination, and memory problems.”
The room became still.
“You’re saying I was drugged.”
“I’m saying the level is clinically significant and you have told me you did not knowingly take the medication.”
The careful wording made it more terrifying.
Because he was not speculating.
He was drawing a boundary around facts.
Daniel stood near the window.
His face had gone gray.
“If she’d fallen after that dose…”
Dr. Foster looked at him.
“She did.”
Daniel covered his mouth.
Evelyn had not only pushed me.
If she had put the medication in my drink, she had weakened my balance first.
Whether she planned the fall or simply made one more dangerous, we did not yet know.
Detective Hale’s phone rang.
He stepped outside.
When he returned, his expression had changed.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“The local camera system at the Parker residence has been wiped.”
Lydia cursed under her breath.
“But you already copied tonight’s footage.”
“Yes.”
“What about the older footage?”
“Some.”
“How did it get wiped?”
“Remote administrator login.”
All eyes turned toward Daniel.
He shook his head.
“I didn’t do it.”
Hale asked,
“Who else has administrator credentials?”
Daniel answered slowly.
“My father.”
Richard.
Again.
Hale continued.
“We also have information that someone attempted to access your hospital records remotely at 5:38 this morning.”
My skin went cold.
“Who?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Daniel whispered,
“Dad.”
Detective Hale did not confirm it.
But he did not dismiss it.
Then my phone rang.
This time the number was not unknown.
Evelyn.
I stared at it.
Nobody spoke.
The phone rang again.
I answered.
“Rachel.”
Her voice was soft.
Motherly.
Almost tender.
“I heard you’re telling people terrible things.”
My hand tightened.
“You pushed me.”
A pause.
Then she sighed.
“You were drugged, sweetheart.”
Every person in the room went still.
I had not told her about the toxicology result.
The police had not released it.
Daniel had not spoken to her since before the result came back.
I whispered,
“How do you know that?”
Silence.
Then the line went dead.
Detective Hale looked at me.
“That was useful.”
I stared at my phone.
May you like
For the first time, Evelyn had made a mistake.
And she knew it.
