Chapter 6 - The Woman in Vermont
I did not sleep.
At sunrise, Maya drove.
Nathan begged me not to go.
I went anyway.
Evan Rhodes lived outside Brattleboro in a weathered farmhouse surrounded by maple trees and several acres of snow-softened fields.
The man who opened the door did not resemble the smiling resident in his hospital photograph.
His hair was longer.
His beard was untrimmed.
And he looked over both our shoulders before inviting us inside.
“You’re Claire Pierce.”
“Yes.”
“I hoped I’d never meet you.”
Not exactly comforting.
We sat at a scarred wooden kitchen table.
Maya placed her recorder between us.
“With your permission.”
Evan nodded.
Then he looked at me.
“Does Nathan know you’re here?”
“Yes.”
“That complicates things.”
“Everything about Nathan complicates things.”
A faint humorless smile.
Then Evan began.
Lydia Monroe entered St. Catherine’s with abdominal pain and anemia. Imaging showed a small internal bleed but no immediate surgical emergency.
Evan recommended observation.
Another attending agreed.
At 8:36 p.m., an electronic authorization appeared under Nathan’s credentials ordering emergency surgery.
Nathan was not physically in the hospital.
“Why didn’t you question it?” I asked.
“I did.”
“What happened?”
“Vanessa Carlisle came down personally.”
My skin prickled.
“She told me Dr. Pierce was consulting remotely and wanted the procedure done immediately.”
“You believed her?”
“She had his badge. She knew details from the chart. And everyone knew she and Nathan were…”
He stopped.
“Sleeping together.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Evan looked ashamed.
“I should have verified.”
“What happened during surgery?”
“At first? Nothing unusual.”
He removed a small bleed.
Lydia stabilized.
Then Vanessa entered recovery.
“She wasn’t medical staff,” Maya said.
“I know.”
“You allowed her into recovery?”
“Martin Carlisle was board chairman. Vanessa ran half the hospital politically without officially running anything. People stopped asking what she was allowed to do years ago.”
“What did Lydia say when she woke?”
Evan looked at me.
“She said, ‘You forged it.’”
My arms covered in goosebumps.
“To Vanessa?”
“Yes.”
“What was forged?”
“I didn’t know then.”
“And then?”
“Vanessa told everyone Lydia was confused.”
A nurse attempted to call Nathan.
Vanessa stopped her.
Fifteen minutes later, Lydia became unstable.
“What changed?” I asked.
Evan’s voice became quieter.
“Her blood pressure collapsed. Heart rhythm changed. She stopped responding properly.”
“Medication?”
“I believed so.”
“What medication?”
“I found an empty vial.”
His throat moved.
“Potassium chloride.”
Maya went still.
I knew enough medicine from Nathan to understand potassium could be lethal in the wrong dose.
“Was it ordered?”
“No.”
“Who had access?”
“Medical staff.”
“Vanessa?”
“Not officially.”
But Vanessa had Nathan’s badge.
My stomach twisted.
“Did you see her administer anything?”
“No.”
Important.
We had suspicion.
Not proof.
“When did Nathan arrive?”
“Around eleven.”
“What did he do?”
“He went straight to Lydia.”
Evan’s expression changed.
“He tried to save her.”
That surprised me.
“He called for ICU transfer. Martin stopped it.”
“How does a board chairman stop a medical transfer?”
“By reminding everyone in the room who controlled their careers.”
Nathan argued.
Vanessa argued harder.
Lydia deteriorated.
Nathan eventually attempted full resuscitation.
She died shortly after midnight.
“Then why falsify the record?”
Evan looked ashamed.
“Martin said if the truth came out, we would all be investigated for unauthorized surgery. He said Lydia’s death would be blamed on postoperative complications whether we cooperated or not.”
“And Nathan?”
“He resisted for maybe twenty minutes.”
“Then?”
“He signed.”
Something inside me went quiet.
Nathan had tried to save Lydia.
Then he had chosen himself.
Again.
“Why did you disappear?”
Evan stood and walked toward a cabinet.
He returned carrying a flash drive.
“Because two days later, I found something.”
He plugged it into an old laptop.
A video opened.
Hospital hallway security footage.
Vanessa entered a medication room at 10:32.
She remained inside forty-seven seconds.
Then walked toward recovery.
Three minutes later, a nurse rushed out of Lydia’s room calling for help.
My heartbeat pounded.
“Is this proof?”
“No,” Evan said. “There were no cameras inside the recovery bay.”
“But it places her there.”
“Yes.”
“Where did you get it?”
“I copied it before security deleted the original.”
“Deleted?”
“Martin ordered all footage from that hallway erased because of ‘privacy concerns.’”
Maya leaned forward.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
“They told me allegations needed evidence.”
“This is evidence.”
“Not enough to prove murder.”
He looked at me.
“Then I got a call.”
“From Vanessa?”
“No.”
“Martin?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“Nathan.”
I stiffened.
“What did he say?”
“He told me to leave Massachusetts.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
“He said Vanessa had asked him something.”
I knew.
How much medication it would take.
“To kill me?”
Evan nodded.
“What exactly did she say?”
He took a breath.
“She asked Nathan whether certain heart medications could cause a fatal arrhythmia without leaving obvious signs.”
“Why did Nathan think she meant me?”
“Because she said, ‘If Claire suddenly had a cardiac event, would anyone question it?’”
My hands became ice.
Maya immediately stopped the recorder.
“Claire, we are not treating this as marital drama anymore.”
“I know.”
“We take this to law enforcement.”
Evan looked frightened.
“You need more.”
“Why?”
“Because Martin has friends everywhere.”
He opened another folder on the flash drive.
“This is why Lydia froze the foundation.”
Bank transfers.
Millions.
Money routed through medical equipment companies.
Consulting firms.
Offshore accounts.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Carlisle Strategic Holdings.
Another appeared less frequently.
Pierce Surgical Innovations.
I stared at it.
“That’s Nathan.”
Maya looked at me.
“Did your husband own a company?”
“No.”
At least, I had never heard of one.
Evan tapped the screen.
“Three point eight million dollars moved through it.”
My pulse roared.
Nathan had told me we were comfortable.
He had never told me he had a company receiving millions.
Suddenly Evan’s phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
All color disappeared from his face.
“What?”
He turned it toward us.
A photograph had been sent from an unknown number.
Our car.
Parked outside his farmhouse.
Under the image were five words.
Still making bad choices, Evan.
Maya stood.
“We’re leaving.”
Evan grabbed the flash drive.
“You take this.”
He pushed it into my hand.
“Why me?”
“Because everyone expects me to have it.”
I closed my fingers around the drive.
As we walked outside, Maya called the authorities.
I was halfway to the car when my phone rang.
Nathan.
I answered.
His first words were not hello.
“Is Evan alive?”
I stopped.
“How do you know where I am?”
“I don’t. But Vanessa just called me screaming.”
Maya turned toward me.
“What did she say?”
Nathan’s breathing was ragged.
“She knows he gave you something.”
I looked at the flash drive in my palm.
“What?”
“She didn’t say.”
Then Nathan said something I had never heard from him before.
“Claire, I am begging you.”
His voice broke.
May you like
“Do not go home.”
Behind us, from inside Evan’s farmhouse, came the unmistakable crash of breaking glass.
