Chapter 5 - EVELYN TALKED FIRST
Richard demanded an attorney within twenty minutes.
Evelyn lasted eleven.
They were separated for questioning.
I remained in the hospital because I could barely walk to the bathroom without assistance.
Dana came to sit with me.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“You didn’t do this.”
“I should have followed up directly when that appointment disappeared.”
“Dad told me you canceled it.”
Her expression hardened.
“We didn’t.”
That was the first direct proof that Richard had not simply altered paperwork.
He had interfered with communication.
“How?”
“We’re still determining that.”
My phone was on the tray beside my wedding-band-sized scar dressing, vibrating constantly.
Richard.
Evelyn.
Unknown numbers.
I turned it facedown.
Then Owen called.
I stared at his name.
Dana said, “You don’t have to answer.”
“He just woke up with my kidney.”
That sentence made me cry.
I answered.
Owen sounded weak.
“Claire?”
“Hey.”
“They won’t tell me what’s happening.”
“Because you’re recovering.”
“Dad said there’s some misunderstanding.”
Of course he did.
“Owen, listen to me. Your surgery is not the problem.”
“What did he do?”
I closed my eyes.
“I don’t know everything yet.”
There was silence.
Then he whispered, “He packed your stuff.”
I froze.
“How do you know?”
“Evelyn told me yesterday they were turning your room into an office after surgery.”
Yesterday.
Before Dad brought the garbage bag.
Before he knew the hospital had found anything.
They had planned to throw me out in advance.
Owen’s breathing became uneven.
“Claire, I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“I swear.”
“I know.”
That mattered more than anything else.
I had given my kidney to Owen.
Not Richard.
Nothing my father did could rewrite that decision.
The next afternoon, the police officer returned with a hospital investigator.
Evelyn had admitted she knew documents had been changed.
She claimed Richard did it because he was terrified the donor team would delay the transplant.
Richard claimed Evelyn misunderstood.
Evelyn claimed she only watched him revise “administrative details.”
Richard claimed the forms were corrected with my permission.
Then the officer showed me one set of initials.
“Are these yours?”
“No.”
“Could anyone reasonably believe they are?”
I looked closely.
They were close.
Claire W.
My C curled inward.
The fake one curled outward.
“I didn’t write that.”
Richard had copied my signature for birthday cards when I was a child.
May you like
He knew how I wrote my name.
Apparently he thought close would be enough.
