Chapter 7 - The Doctor Who Lied
Dr. Nathan Feldman had been Lila’s pediatrician for nearly six years.
He had also been Derek Mercer’s friend since college.
The two men attended charity golf events together.
Their families once vacationed at the same resort.
And according to Lila’s medical records, Feldman had signed several letters stating that Derek’s posture program caused no medical concern.
When Detective Bell arrived at Feldman Pediatrics Monday morning, the doctor was already waiting with an attorney.
That told Aaron plenty.
“I want to cooperate,” Feldman said.
“Good.”
“But I need to be careful because this involves protected medical information.”
“We have a warrant.”
Feldman’s lawyer nodded.
“We understand.”
Aaron placed photocopies of several letters on the table.
“You signed these?”
Feldman looked.
“Yes.”
“Did you examine Lila before signing them?”
A pause.
“Not every time.”
“How many times?”
Feldman glanced at his lawyer.
Aaron waited.
“Two.”
“There are eleven letters.”
“Yes.”
“You wrote eleven medical endorsements after two examinations?”
“They weren’t endorsements.”
“What were they?”
“General observations.”
Aaron pointed to one.
I have no medical objection to continued Mercer Method postural correction.
“That sounds like an endorsement.”
Feldman rubbed both hands over his face.
“Derek said he needed documentation for a custody issue.”
Aaron became very still.
“What custody issue?”
“Rachel.”
“When?”
“Before she disappeared.”
That answer mattered.
Derek had claimed Rachel’s breakdown happened suddenly.
But he had apparently been preparing a legal case against her well before she vanished.
“What did Derek ask you to document?”
“That Rachel interfered with Lila’s medical treatment.”
“Did she?”
Feldman stared at the table.
“She questioned Derek constantly.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
Aaron leaned back.
“So she wasn’t interfering with medically necessary treatment.”
“No.”
“Did you know Derek was putting Lila into compression devices?”
“I knew he used posture supports.”
“Did you see them?”
“Not the basement equipment.”
“Did Rachel ever speak with you privately?”
Feldman’s face changed.
Aaron saw it.
“When?”
“About a month before she disappeared.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked me if Derek’s methods could injure Lila.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“That children are resilient.”
Aaron’s expression hardened.
“That wasn’t what she asked.”
Feldman whispered:
“I know.”
“What else?”
“She asked me to write that Lila did not need corrective treatment.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Derek was my friend.”
Aaron waited.
Feldman’s voice broke.
“And I was a coward.”
The lawyer touched his arm.
Feldman continued anyway.
“Derek had invested in my practice when I opened. He loaned me seventy-five thousand dollars. I told myself it was a family disagreement. I told myself Rachel was emotional.”
“Did Derek ask you to call her unstable?”
Feldman closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
Aaron placed another document on the table.
Rachel’s custody evaluation.
Feldman had written that Rachel showed “heightened anxiety and potential emotional interference with the child’s treatment.”
“Was that your independent medical opinion?”
“No.”
“Who gave you the wording?”
Feldman looked up.
“Derek.”
By the end of the interview, prosecutors were considering charges related to falsified records and obstruction.
But Aaron wanted one thing more.
“What happened the night Rachel disappeared?”
Feldman stared at him.
“I don’t know.”
“Think carefully.”
“I wasn’t there.”
“Did Derek call you?”
Feldman’s face went pale.
That was enough.
Aaron leaned forward.
“What did he say?”
“It was late.”
“What time?”
“After midnight.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked me a strange question.”
“What question?”
Feldman swallowed.
“He asked how long sedatives stay detectable in blood.”
Nobody moved.
“Why?”
“He said a patient had asked.”
“What patient?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“Did you answer?”
“Generally.”
“What happened next?”
“Nothing.”
“Did he call again?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“About four in the morning.”
“And?”
“He said Rachel had left him.”
Aaron felt the pieces shifting.
“What was unusual about that?”
Feldman’s voice was barely audible.
“He didn’t sound surprised.”
Police immediately sought access to old phone records.
Four years earlier, at 12:47 a.m. on the night Rachel vanished, Derek called Feldman for six minutes.
At 3:53 a.m., Derek called again.
At 4:02, Derek’s phone connected to a cellular tower thirty-two miles from his home.
Not near his property.
Not near Rachel’s sister.
Near McConnell State Forest.
Aaron stared at the map.
McConnell contained hundreds of acres of wooded land, old logging roads, creeks, abandoned quarry sites.
Derek told investigators he had slept all night.
His phone said otherwise.
A search operation began.
But four years was a long time.
They searched old vehicle GPS data.
Nothing.
Derek’s SUV from that year had been sold.
The buyer still owned it.
Police seized the navigation system.
The internal memory had not been fully wiped.
Three old locations were recovered from the night Rachel disappeared.
Derek’s house.
A gas station.
And coordinates deep inside McConnell State Forest.
Tuesday morning, search teams entered the woods.
Dogs.
Ground-penetrating radar.
State police.
Forensic personnel.
News helicopters circled overhead.
Derek’s attorney called it “a grotesque public spectacle.”
By afternoon, nothing had been found.
Then at 4:18 p.m., a search dog alerted near an abandoned drainage culvert.
Investigators excavated carefully.
Aaron stood behind the forensic team.
A technician lifted something from the soil.
Not remains.
A piece of fabric.
Purple.
Aaron remembered the video.
Rachel wearing a purple sweater.
They dug further.
Then another technician called him.
“Detective.”
Aaron approached.
A shallow cavity beneath collapsed soil contained a deteriorated backpack.
Inside were women’s clothing.
A wallet.
A driver’s license.
Rachel Mercer.
But no body.
That confused everyone.
Until they found the notebook.
Water damaged.
Partially readable.
Several pages were written in Rachel’s handwriting.
The last entry was dated the night she vanished.
I’m leaving the backpack near the quarry like we planned. If Derek follows the tracking device, he’ll think I went deeper into the forest. Nora’s contact says she can get me somewhere safe.
Aaron read the sentence twice.
Rachel had planned her disappearance.
Not because she wanted to abandon Lila.
Because she was running from Derek.
But something had gone wrong.
The final readable line said:
Once he follows the decoy, I’m going back for Lila.
Aaron’s heart sank.
She had gone back.
And apparently never reached her daughter.
Then they found something tucked inside the notebook’s rear cover.
A business card.
Private investigator.
Michael Rowan.
Aaron called the number.
A man answered on the third ring.
“Rowan Investigations.”
“This is Detective Aaron Bell with Allegheny County.”
Silence.
“I’m calling about Rachel Mercer.”
The silence became longer.
Finally Michael Rowan said:
“I’ve been waiting four years for someone to ask me the right question.”
“What question?”
“Where Rachel went after the forest.”
Aaron gripped the phone.
“Where did she go?”
Rowan’s answer stunned him.
“She never disappeared.”
May you like
“What do you mean?”
“She’s alive.”
