Chapter 7 - The Ghost in the Records
The sound of shattering glass drew the attention of the entire room.
Brandon’s face went pale. He grabbed Margaret’s arm again, but this time, Austin’s hand clamped down on Brandon’s wrist like a steel vice.
"Let her go," Austin said. The tone was conversational, but the grip promised broken bones.
Brandon released her, gasping slightly in pain.
"Margaret, go to the car," Brandon ordered, trying to save face.
She didn't move. She looked at Austin.
"What surgery?" Margaret asked, her voice trembling.
Austin kept his eyes on Brandon. "Tell her, Doctor. Tell her how you built your perfect career."
Brandon swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. "He's lying, Margaret. He's just trying to extort us."
Austin signaled with two fingers.
From the shadows of the library arches, one of Austin's men—the broad-shouldered one from the house—stepped forward and handed Margaret a tablet.
On the screen was a scanned copy of a medical file.
Patient: Evelyn Hayes. Date of Death: October 14th.
Margaret’s mother.
Margaret scrolled through the pages. Her medical training allowed her to read through the jargon instantly.
It hadn't been a surgical complication. It had been gross negligence. An incorrect dosage of anesthesia, followed by a botched intubation by a panicked, sleep-deprived resident named Brandon Whitmore.
The attending physician had covered it up to protect the hospital's reputation.
"You killed her," Margaret whispered, staring at the man she had called her husband. "You killed my mother... and then you married me?"
Brandon backed away, shaking his head. "It was an accident! I was young! I gave you a good life to make up for it, Margaret! I took care of you!"
Margaret felt the room spinning. Five years of abuse. Five years of believing she owed him her loyalty.
He hadn't married her out of love. He had married her to keep his guilt locked in a cage where he could control it.
"You sick, twisted monster," she breathed.
Austin gently took the tablet from her hands.
May you like
"Dr. Whitmore," Austin said loudly, his voice carrying across the silent room. "I believe the police commissioners you mentioned earlier would like a word."
At the entrance of the library, three detectives in suits walked in, flashing their badges.
