Chapter 3 - The Death Certificate
Melissa’s burial was canceled.
Her body went to the medical examiner instead.
Brent blamed me.
“You couldn’t let her rest.”
I stared at him across the police interview room.
“My daughter will rest when I know why somebody operated on her before she died.”
His mouth tightened.
Sophie was with my sister, far from him.
I had refused to release her.
Brent threatened custody proceedings.
Detective Ruiz quietly advised him that making threats inside a police station was unwise.
Caleb Voss initially claimed he found Wade’s hospital badge in the chapel parking lot.
Then investigators checked the security cameras.
Caleb had arrived wearing it.
Why?
He refused to answer.
Wade’s story was equally strange.
He claimed he had lost the badge two weeks earlier but never reported it.
A surgeon failing to report a missing hospital credential?
Ruiz didn’t believe him.
Neither did I.
Then the preliminary autopsy arrived.
Melissa had indeed suffered a serious abdominal infection.
But that was not the whole story.
There was evidence of a recent surgical procedure performed shortly before death.
Not at Wade’s hospital.
Not at any licensed facility investigators could identify.
And something had been removed.
Ruiz would not tell me what.
“Why?”
“We need confirmation.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“And I’m trying to find who killed her.”
Killed.
Not died.
That word hollowed me out.
I went home and entered Melissa’s childhood bedroom.
Sophie was asleep beneath the old quilt.
Her rabbit rested under her chin.
At 2:13 a.m., she suddenly opened her eyes.
“Nana?”
“I’m here.”
“Mommy’s angry.”
I stopped breathing.
“What is she angry about?”
“The blue room.”
“What blue room?”
Sophie pointed toward my closet.
“That color.”
The closet door was painted pale blue.
“Did you see a blue room?”
She shook her head.
“Mommy did.”
Then Sophie whispered:
“She said Uncle Wade washed his hands there.”
The next morning, I told Ruiz.
I expected skepticism.
Instead she asked:
“Did Melissa ever mention a clinic?”
“No.”
“Storage facility?”
“No.”
“Vacation property?”
“No.”
Ruiz turned her laptop around.
Police had searched Caleb’s vehicle.
Inside they found an electronic access card.
The registered property belonged to a private medical company.
Mercer Advanced Recovery LLC.
Owner:
Dr. Wade Mercer.
The facility had officially closed eighteen months earlier.
Ruiz showed me a photograph.
A small surgical suite.
Stainless-steel equipment.
And walls painted pale blue.
Then she showed me another image.
Security footage from three nights before Melissa died.
Brent’s SUV entering the facility.
May you like
At 11:47 p.m.
Melissa was inside.
