Chapter 2 - The Dead Man’s Wristband and the Secret Inside Renato’s Father’s Medical File
The next morning, I showed Renato the wristband.
He stared at it without touching it.
For the first time since I'd met him, he looked genuinely shaken.
“Where did you find this?”
“Outside the guesthouse.”
Marco took it from him.
“Boss.”
Renato nodded.
“Check the barcode.”
Marco pulled out his phone.
A few seconds later, his face changed.
“It's real.”
I frowned.
“How can it be real?”
“Because it was issued by St. Andrew's Memorial,” Marco said.
Renato looked at the date again.
Eight years earlier.
The night his father died.
He closed his fist around it.
“My father never wore a wristband.”
Dr. Chen confirmed it.
Daniel Calder had arrived at the hospital with a heart attack.
He had been treated privately.
No wristband.
No public admission.
No records showing transfer.
But the code on the wristband belonged to the hospital's cardiac wing.
That wasn't supposed to exist.
Renato called the hospital director.
“Director Halvorsen.”
A nervous voice answered.
“Yes, Mr. Calder?”
“Who accessed the cardiac archive last night?”
Silence.
Renato's eyes narrowed.
“Halvorsen.”
“I don't know.”
“Wrong answer.”
The director swallowed.
“Doctor Parker has authorization.”
Renato looked at me.
I wrote it down.
Doctor Parker.
Archive access.
Digitoxin.
My pencil stopped.
“Renato.”
He looked at me.
“If Doctor Parker had access to your father's records, she could know exactly how much poison would look like a heart attack.”
He became very still.
Dr. Chen nodded reluctantly.
“She's right.”
Marco frowned.
“What?”
“Digitoxin can produce symptoms that resemble cardiac failure,” Dr. Chen explained. “If someone wanted to make poisoning look natural, manipulating the dosage over time could make detection more difficult.”
Renato stared at the window.
“My father wasn't killed instantly.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“He was sick for weeks.”
Dr. Chen looked surprised.
“That's important.”
“His doctors said his heart was failing.”
“Were there toxicology tests?”
“Not comprehensive ones.”
She looked at him.
“Then there's a possibility his death was misclassified.”
Renato didn't speak.
He seemed to be fighting something inside himself.
Then he turned to Marco.
“Bring me every medical record on my father.”
“Boss, most of them were destroyed.”
“All of them?”
“That's what the archives show.”
I raised my hand.
They both looked at me.
“What?”
“Maybe not all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Trash.”
Mom frowned.
I explained.
Hospitals throw away paper copies before records are digitized.
Sometimes staff print medication schedules.
Sometimes labels are left on boxes.
Sometimes nobody checks what's in the bins.
I'd learned that because Mom worked nights.
Renato stared.
“You think the trash has evidence?”
“Yes.”
Marco looked horrified.
“Boss, we're not sending the king of Pittsburgh through hospital trash.”
Renato looked at me.
“I am.”
We returned to St. Andrew's.
The south wall was exactly where I remembered.
The trash containers stood behind the loading dock.
I climbed into one before anyone could stop me.
Mom groaned.
“Please don't encourage her.”
“I didn't,” Renato said.
I searched.
Paper.
Boxes.
Broken vials.
Used labels.
Then I found a medical chart.
The ink was smudged.
Daniel Calder.
I pulled it out.
Renato's hands tightened.
He read the medication list.
One name wasn't familiar.
Digoxin.
Then another sheet.
A handwritten dosage adjustment.
And a signature.
Evelyn Parker.
Renato stared at the paper.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“What's wrong?”
“This dosage was never part of my father's treatment.”
Dr. Chen examined it.
“The handwriting appears genuine.”
Renato turned the page.
There was a note.
Patient showing unexplained arrhythmia. Continue cardiac medication.
Then underneath:
Do not inform family.
Renato's jaw clenched.
“Why would nobody tell me?”
Dr. Chen looked at him.
“Because you were nineteen.”
He stared at her.
“My father was dying.”
“And the hospital may have assumed you would interfere.”
Renato looked at me.
He seemed suddenly much older than thirty-six.
“My father told me not to trust doctors.”
I asked:
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because my father trusted one.”
“Who?”
“Evelyn.”
Silence.
Dr. Chen looked at the chart.
“We need to find out whether she was involved.”
We returned to the mansion.
That afternoon, Renato called every person who had been present during his father's final week.
Nurses.
Doctors.
A private pharmacist.
A driver.
A housekeeper.
Most remembered nothing.
One nurse did.
Her name was Maria Alvarez.
She had retired from St. Andrew's.
Renato found her living outside the city.
When she saw him, she started crying.
“I knew this day would come.”
Renato stared.
“You knew?”
Maria looked at me.
Then at the notebook in my hands.
“I wondered who would finally notice.”
“What happened to my father?”
She shook her head.
“Your father wasn't dying naturally.”
Renato leaned forward.
“Tell me.”
“Doctor Parker told me not to speak.”
“Why?”
“Because your father had discovered something.”
“What?”
“Your father's medication was being changed.”
“By Parker?”
Maria hesitated.
“Not alone.”
Renato's eyes hardened.
“Who else?”
Maria looked terrified.
“Someone in your family.”
The room went silent.
“Who?”
She whispered a name.
“Marco.”
I looked at Renato.
Marco stood near the door.
His face was unreadable.
Then Maria's eyes widened.
She looked behind him.
“That's not the Marco.”
“What?”
“The boy who used to deliver your father's medicines was another man.”
Renato frowned.
“My Marco wasn't involved in medicine.”
“No.”
Maria shook her head.
“The other man was older.”
“Who?”
She swallowed.
“Your uncle, Silvio.”
Renato froze.
Silvio Calder.
His father's younger brother.
Officially dead for fifteen years.
Maria handed Renato an old photograph.
Silvio stood beside Dr. Parker.
And beside them was a third person.
Someone who looked very young.
Someone I recognized.
My mother.
Dana.
I stared.
“Mom?”
Renato looked at her.
May you like
My mother's face went white.
“That photograph is impossible.”
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