Chapter 3 - WHAT THE WATCH BOX HID
Daniel stopped denying everything.
For approximately five seconds.
Then his lawyer placed a hand on his arm and whispered urgently.
Daniel sat.
Judge Carter ordered the watch box delivered to the clerk.
“There is no paper inside now,” she said.
Sophie nodded.
“Mommy took it out.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel exhaled.
Too obviously.
Judge Carter noticed.
“So the evidence Mr. Whitmore appears relieved not to see is currently somewhere else.”
“I am not relieved.”
Daniel’s face hardened.
“I am exhausted by this circus.”
I almost admired the sentence.
Daniel had always known how to make anger sound reasonable.
Judge Carter asked Sophie how Elena found the watch.
Sophie gave a child’s answer.
“In the place with the big windows.”
Mark understood first.
“Daniel’s office at Whitmore Plaza.”
Sophie nodded.
“He has windows everywhere.”
Daniel’s attorney objected.
Judge Carter allowed the objection but did not ignore what had been said.
Then a court officer approached the bench carrying a folder from the physician Judge Carter had called during the recess.
The examination had been limited but immediate.
Blood had been drawn.
My current medication list had been compared with what remained in my system.
The judge read the preliminary report.
Her expression became grave.
“A sedative metabolite has been detected at a concentration inconsistent with the medication schedule provided to this court.”
Daniel stared at me.
Vanessa covered her mouth.
I felt no victory.
Only sickness.
Somewhere inside me, I had hoped Elena was mistaken.
I had hoped my bad nights belonged to my disease.
Disease was cruel.
But betrayal required a person.
Judge Carter looked toward Daniel.
“Who manages Mr. Whitmore’s medications?”
“Licensed nurses.”
“Who authorized changes?”
“My brother’s doctors.”
“Names.”
Daniel hesitated.
Gregory closed his eyes.
Daniel named Dr. Leonard Webb, the neurologist who had treated me for years.
The judge ordered him contacted.
Mark stepped toward my wheelchair during another brief recess.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at him.
“For which part?”
His face tightened.
“Arthur—”
“For standing behind Daniel? For knowing about the pills? Or for letting me sit there while my brother called me incompetent?”
“I was trying to keep access.”
“To what?”
“Daniel.”
That answer hurt more than I expected.
“You should have come to me.”
“I did.”
I stared at him.
Mark crouched so we were eye level.
“Three times.”
I couldn’t remember.
He saw the recognition on my face.
“The first time, you told me Daniel would never hurt you.”
My stomach sank.
“The second time, you got angry and fired me for twenty minutes.”
A faint memory stirred.
A shouting match.
A broken coffee mug.
Mark standing near my library door.
“You came back the next morning,” I whispered.
“You didn’t remember firing me.”
I looked away.
That was the part nobody could manufacture.
My mind truly had failed me sometimes.
Daniel had not invented everything.
Mark continued.
“The third time, I went to Elena instead.”
“Why?”
“Because she believed me.”
Before I could answer, Dr. Webb entered the courtroom.
He looked twenty years older than the last time I had seen him.
Judge Carter placed him under oath.
He reviewed the lab findings.
“Yes,” he said. “That concentration concerns me.”
“Did you prescribe the medication?”
“No.”
“Did you authorize it?”
“No.”
Daniel leaned toward his lawyer.
The judge continued.
“Could it worsen confusion?”
“Absolutely. Especially in a patient with Mr. Whitmore’s neurological condition.”
Vanessa’s face drained of color.
Judge Carter asked the obvious question.
“Then how did it enter his medication routine?”
Dr. Webb looked at the printed records.
“This authorization references a remote-care approval from Ms. Vanessa Cole.”
The entire courtroom shifted toward my ex-wife.
Vanessa stood.
“What?”
Dr. Webb showed her the page.
“It carries your electronic authorization.”
Vanessa took the document.
Her hands began trembling.
“I signed a care consent.”
Daniel said quietly, “Vanessa.”
She ignored him.
“I signed permission for medication management during Arthur’s flare in April.”
Judge Carter asked, “Did you approve this sedative?”
“No.”
“You are certain?”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked down.
Vanessa saw it.
Slowly, she turned toward him.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing you didn’t agree was necessary.”
Her face changed.
“What did you do, Daniel?”
He stood.
“You saw Arthur. You saw what was happening.”
“I agreed he needed help!”
“You agreed he was becoming dangerous.”
“I said stubborn!”
A few reporters began typing furiously.
Daniel pointed toward me.
“He was moving tens of millions of dollars while forgetting conversations from the day before.”
My head snapped toward him.
“What money?”
Daniel stared at me.
The silence became unbearable.
“What money?” I repeated.
Mark closed his eyes.
Daniel answered.
“The Children’s Fund.”
Judge Carter ordered everyone to sit.
Daniel didn’t.
“He moved money from the foundation into a collapsing development project.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, Arthur. You did.”
“You did that.”
“The first transfer has your signature.”
My mouth went dry.
Judge Carter asked how much.
Daniel answered.
“Four point eight million dollars.”
Vanessa whispered, “My God.”
Daniel looked at me with something I had not seen all day.
Pain.
“You want everyone to believe I created this whole nightmare because I wanted your fortune.”
He shook his head.
“I was trying to stop you from discovering what you had already done.”
Mark suddenly stepped forward.
“No.”
Daniel turned.
Mark’s voice remained calm.
“That isn’t the whole truth.”
He looked at Judge Carter.
“The four-point-eight million came back forty-eight hours later.”
Daniel’s eyes flashed.
Mark continued.
“Because that transfer wasn’t the theft.”
I stared at him.
“Then what was?”
Mark faced me.
“A test.”
“A test for what?”
“To see whether anyone was watching.”
Judge Carter spoke carefully.
“Watching what?”
May you like
Mark looked at Daniel.
“The forty-one-million-dollar hole underneath it.”
