Chapter 4 - The Whispering Gallery
Over the next three days, I became the perfect, grief-stricken daughter. I stayed by my parents’ bedside during the day, holding their cold hands, while Kara and Julian "managed" the administrative side of things.
Kara was surprisingly efficient. She had already contacted my parents’ bank, presenting the forged trust documents to initiate the transfer of funds into a joint account she had set up with Julian.
Because my parents were technically "incapacitated" and the doctors could not give a definitive timeline for their recovery, the bank’s legal team was reviewing the paperwork. They told Kara it would take forty-eight hours to clear the transfer.
On Friday afternoon, I met Kara in the hospital cafeteria. She was drinking a chamomile tea, her hands trembling as she looked at her phone.
"Emily," she said softly, looking up at me with tears in her eyes. "The doctors... they told me this morning that Mom and Dad might have permanent brain damage from the lack of oxygen. They said we might have to start thinking about... quality of life decisions."
My grip on my coffee cup tightened so hard the paper began to buckle. Quality of life decisions. She wanted to pull the plug. She wanted to kill them before they could wake up and speak.
"We can't do that, Kara," I said, keeping my voice incredibly soft and fragile. "They are fighters. We have to give them time."
"But the bills, Emily," she whimpered, leaning across the table. "The medical costs are going to be astronomical. Julian and I are trying to manage the trust, but the bank is being so difficult. They're questioning the signatures. They're delaying the transfer."
"Really?" I asked, putting on a look of deep concern. "Why would they question the signatures?"
"They're just being bureaucratic," Kara said quickly, her eyes darting away. "But if we don't get the funds cleared, we won't be able to pay for the private care facility they need. I was thinking... maybe you could call the bank manager? If you, as the other daughter, confirm that the trust is real, they might expedite it."
She was asking me to validate the forgery. She was asking me to help her steal our parents' life savings.
"Of course, Kara," I said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. Her skin felt dry and cold. "I’ll do whatever it takes to help. Just send me the bank manager’s contact information. I’ll call them first thing on Monday."
Kara let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. "Oh, Emily. Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you."
You would be in a prison cell, I thought. And soon, you will be.
May you like
As she left the cafeteria, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number Michael had given me. It was the direct line to Detective Harris, the officer in charge of my parents’ poisoning case.
"Detective Harris," I said. "This is Emily. I have the evidence you asked for. We need to meet. Quietly."
