Chapter 5: The Doctor Who Came to the House
Rachel called the number from a family waiting room down the hall, door closed, Madison asleep across two chairs with Lorraine's cardigan over her shoulders.
The man who answered sounded like someone who had not slept in two days.
His voice was thin and careful, like he was choosing each word from a very short list of safe ones.
"Mrs.
Clarke.
Thank you for calling."
"Who are you?" Rachel said.
"And why did you sign my husband's death certificate?"
"I'm a licensed physician.
I have been for twenty-two years." A pause.
"I was contacted four days ago by a man named Gerald Clarke.
He said his brother had collapsed.
He said the family wanted a quiet, private arrangement — no hospital, no fuss, the family had their reasons.
He offered me a significant sum to come to the house, conduct an examination, and sign the necessary paperwork."
Rachel's hand tightened around the phone.
"He told me your husband was already gone," Dr.
Marsh continued.
"He was very still.
His vitals were — they were extremely suppressed.
I used my stethoscope.
I checked for pupil response.
Everything pointed to—" He stopped.
"I should have taken more time.
I should have insisted on a clinical setting.
I know that.
I have known it since I walked out of your house and I have not slept since."
"You signed the certificate before he was d\*ad," Rachel said.
"I believed he was d\*ad.
I want to be clear about that.
But I also accepted money to come to a private residence and not ask questions I should have asked.
Those are not the same thing, but they are both true."
"Gerald paid you."
"Yes."
"How much?"
A pause.
"Eight thousand dollars.
Cash."
Rachel sat very still for a moment.
Through the small window in the waiting room door she could see the corridor, the nurses moving, the ordinary machinery of a hospital at night.
"Dr.
Marsh," she said.
"I need you to write down everything you just told me.
Every detail.
The date Gerald contacted you, what he said, what he paid you, and what you did.
And then I need you to be willing to say it again to the people I'm about to call."
"I — yes." His voice cracked slightly.
"Mrs.
Clarke, I am so sorry.
I don't expect that to mean anything to you right now."
"It doesn't," she said.
"But the written statement will."
She ended the call and sat for a moment with the phone in her lap.
Then she called Paul.
"Is Gerald still at his house?"
"He is.
He's been asking when you're coming.
He seems — Rachel, he seems almost relaxed.
It's strange."
"He thinks he's already won," Rachel said.
"He thinks Thomas is in a funeral home and the certificate is signed and the only loose end is a grieving widow who doesn't know what she's looking at."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Stay with him.
Don't let him make calls if you can help it.
If he tries to leave, tell him I specifically asked him to wait." She stood up.
"I'm going to make two phone calls.
Then I'm coming."
The first call was to a detective she had met once at a neighborhood meeting — a woman named Carol Staines who had given Rachel her card and said, the way some people mean it and some people don't, *call me if you ever need anything.*
Rachel had kept the card in her wallet for three years without knowing why.
She knew why now.
Carol picked up on the third ring.
"It's Rachel Clarke," Rachel said.
"I know it's late.
I need to report what I believe is an attempt on my husband's life.
I have a witness.
I have a name.
And I have a doctor willing to give a statement."
A brief silence on the other end.
"Tell me everything," Carol said.
Rachel told her.
When she finished, Carol was quiet for four seconds — Rachel counted.
"Don't confront him alone," Carol said.
"I'm sending someone to that address right now.
You go back to the hospital and stay with your husband.
We'll handle Gerald Clarke tonight."
"I want to be there," Rachel said.
"I know you do.
But right now the most important thing you can do is be at that hospital when Thomas wakes up." A pause.
"And Rachel — he is going to wake up.
From what you've described, he's going to wake up."
Rachel looked through the window at the corridor again.
At the ICU door at the far end.
May you like
"He has to," she said.
"His daughter needs to hear him say her name."
