Chapter 1 - The Woman Warren Was Hiding
Charles Fletcher had known Warren Prescott for forty-one years.
That was what made the first lie so difficult to accept.
The second was easier.
By the third, Charles stopped thinking of Warren as his oldest friend and started thinking of him as a man who needed to be watched.
Detective Teresa Morales closed her notebook.
“You said Lillian mentioned another woman.”
Charles nodded.
“About four months ago.”
“Did she name her?”
“No.”
“What exactly did she tell you?”
Charles looked through the glass toward the intensive care unit.
Lillian lay beneath white blankets, her face still swollen, oxygen flowing through a thin tube beneath her nose.
“She said Warren had started guarding his phone.”
“That alone doesn’t establish anything.”
“I know.”
“She saw messages?”
“Briefly.”
“From?”
“A number without a saved name.”
Teresa waited.
Charles continued.
“The messages were intimate enough that she confronted him.”
“What did Warren say?”
“That she misunderstood.”
Teresa gave him a tired detective’s expression.
“Of course.”
Charles almost smiled.
Almost.
“Lillian wanted to believe him.”
“Did you?”
Charles hesitated.
“No.”
That answer surprised him.
Maybe because he had never said it aloud.
Three months earlier, Warren had become different.
He canceled their Friday lunches twice.
Then started taking calls outside.
At a Christmas dinner, Charles noticed Warren turn his phone face down whenever Lillian entered the room.
Small things.
Nothing a forty-year friendship wanted to examine too closely.
Teresa leaned forward.
“Did Lillian tell you anything else?”
Charles thought.
Then remembered.
“She said Warren asked her to update their wills.”
Teresa’s pen stopped.
“When?”
“About three months ago.”
“What changed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Insurance?”
Charles looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re a physician, Dr. Fletcher. Not an investigator. Don’t fill in blanks.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
She stood.
“I’ll start with the patch. Pharmacy access. Prescribing history. Cameras if we can get them.”
Charles nodded.
Then Teresa stopped.
“Warren owns three pharmacies.”
“Yes.”
“Does he work inside them?”
“Sometimes.”
“Enough to obtain restricted medications?”
Charles’s expression hardened.
“Yes.”
Teresa closed her notebook.
“That gives us access.”
She looked toward Lillian.
“We still need motive.”
At 8:15 that morning, motive walked into the hospital wearing red.
Her name was Sabrina Cole.
Charles recognized her instantly.
Not personally.
From a photograph Lillian had once shown him.
A woman in her early forties.
Dark hair.
Elegant red coat.
Lillian had found her picture attached to one of Warren’s messages.
Charles was standing near the ICU desk when Sabrina approached.
“Dr. Fletcher?”
He stiffened.
“Yes?”
“I’m looking for Lillian Prescott.”
That surprised him.
“Who are you?”
Sabrina swallowed.
“My name is Sabrina Cole.”
Charles’s entire body became still.
“Why are you here?”
Her eyes filled.
“Because Warren called me at five this morning.”
That made no sense.
“What did he say?”
“That Lillian had been hospitalized.”
Charles stared.
“He told you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sabrina looked around.
Then lowered her voice.
“Because he thinks I’m the reason.”
Charles felt cold.
“Reason for what?”
“That she tried to hurt herself.”
The words hit like a slap.
Charles said nothing.
Sabrina continued.
“He told me Lillian discovered us and became unstable.”
“Us.”
Her eyes lowered.
“Yes.”
“So you are having an affair with Warren.”
She closed her eyes.
“I was.”
Past tense.
Charles noticed.
“When did it end?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Because I realized he was lying.”
“What about?”
She gave a bitter laugh.
“Almost everything.”
Charles looked toward Teresa, who had just returned from making a call.
He raised one hand.
She came closer.
“This is Detective Morales.”
Sabrina immediately became frightened.
“Police?”
“Yes.”
Charles watched carefully.
If she was acting, she was very good.
Teresa introduced herself.
Sabrina’s face became pale.
“Is Lillian going to be okay?”
“We expect her to recover,” Charles said.
The relief on Sabrina’s face looked real.
Then she whispered:
“Thank God.”
Teresa studied her.
“Why did Warren tell you Mrs. Prescott harmed herself?”
Sabrina looked at Charles.
Then Teresa.
“Because he said she found out.”
“About the affair?”
“Yes.”
“And became suicidal?”
“That’s what he said.”
Charles’s jaw tightened.
Warren was already creating a story.
Lillian discovered infidelity.
Emotionally collapsed.
Exposed herself to something dangerous.
Accident.
Self-harm.
Anything except husband.
Teresa asked:
“Did Warren ever discuss Lillian’s allergy with you?”
Sabrina frowned.
“What allergy?”
Charles watched her face.
Nothing.
“She has a severe medication allergy.”
“No.”
Sabrina shook her head.
“He never mentioned it.”
“Did you ever enter the Prescott home?”
“Yes.”
Charles looked at her.
“When?”
She flushed.
“A few times.”
“Recently?”
“Last Thursday.”
Teresa immediately took over.
“Were you alone?”
“No. Warren was there.”
“Lillian?”
“No.”
“Did you see medication patches?”
“No.”
“Did Warren?”
Sabrina became uncomfortable.
“He went into the bathroom for a while.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Carrying anything?”
“I wasn’t paying attention.”
Then she stopped.
Her eyes changed.
“What?”
Sabrina looked at Charles.
“There was a silver envelope.”
Charles felt his stomach tighten.
“What silver envelope?”
“Warren had one in his briefcase.”
“What was inside?”
“I don’t know.”
Teresa wrote quickly.
“Did he take it into the bathroom?”
“Yes.”
Charles and Teresa looked at each other.
Sabrina saw it.
“Oh, my God.”
Nobody answered.
Then she reached into her purse.
“I have something else.”
She removed her phone.
“There are messages.”
“From Warren?”
“Yes.”
“About Lillian?”
“Some.”
Teresa held out her hand.
Sabrina hesitated.
Then gave her the phone.
One thread changed everything.
Three weeks earlier.
Sabrina had told Warren she wanted to end the affair.
He answered:
You don’t understand what I’m about to lose.
Then:
If Lillian ruins this now, thirty years of work disappear.
Sabrina:
What does your marriage have to do with the pharmacies?
Warren:
Everything.
Charles stared.
“What does that mean?”
Sabrina swallowed.
“I thought he meant divorce would be expensive.”
Teresa kept scrolling.
Then stopped.
Her face changed.
“Dr. Fletcher.”
She turned the phone.
A message from Warren.
Two months earlier.
By spring, none of this will be a problem anymore.
Charles read it twice.
Sabrina whispered:
“I thought he was talking about leaving her.”
Charles looked toward Lillian’s room.
Maybe Warren had never planned to leave his wife.
Maybe he planned for Lillian to disappear from the equation entirely.
Then Teresa’s phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Her face became unreadable.
“When?”
Another pause.
“You’re certain?”
She ended the call.
Charles stood.
“What happened?”
Teresa looked at him.
“One of Warren’s pharmacies has a security problem.”
“What kind?”
“The camera system from the controlled-medication storage area stopped recording.”
Charles felt his stomach drop.
“When?”
Teresa stared directly at him.
“Three months ago.”
Exactly when Warren asked Lillian to update their wills.
Exactly when he started telling Sabrina that by spring, everything would be over.
May you like
And exactly when, according to newly discovered documents, Warren Prescott had purchased a ten-million-dollar life insurance policy on his wife.
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