Chapter 11 - The Last Week of Grandpa's Life
Grandpa died on a Thursday.
At 6:17 in the morning.
I remembered the exact time because I'd been staring at the clock when the nurse came into the room.
He'd spent the previous week in the hospital.
The doctors said his heart was failing.
They said his body was exhausted.
They said there was only so much medicine could do.
I'd held his hand.
I'd told him I loved him.
And just before dawn, he'd squeezed my fingers one final time.
I'd never questioned what happened.
Not really.
Grandpa was eighty-one.
He'd been slowing down for years.
But after what Chloe said, a horrible thought had entered my mind.
And once it was there, I couldn't make it leave.
"What if somebody hurt him?"
Margaret looked at me.
We were sitting in his study.
The environmental documents lay spread across the desk.
Chloe was pacing near the window.
I could hear the desperation in my own voice.
"What if Dad or Victor did something?"
Margaret spoke carefully.
"Clara, we don't have evidence that Samuel's death was caused by anyone else."
I nodded.
"I know."
"His medical condition was serious."
"I know."
She leaned closer.
"But if you have a specific concern, we can ask the appropriate medical professionals to review the records."
I looked down.
For a moment, I felt ashamed.
Grandpa had died.
I'd been beside him.
And now I was wondering whether something terrible had happened while I was looking the other way.
Margaret placed her hand over mine.
"Questions aren't accusations."
I looked up.
"Really?"
"Really."
She paused.
"Your grandfather would want you to be careful with both."
I swallowed.
That sounded exactly like him.
Whenever I'd made a dramatic accusation about a classmate or teacher, Grandpa would ask me what I actually knew.
Not what I suspected.
Not what I feared.
What I knew.
So I began with the facts.
He'd been admitted after experiencing chest pain and shortness of breath.
Doctors had found advanced heart failure and other complications.
He'd deteriorated despite treatment.
His death certificate reflected those conditions.
There had been no sudden unexplained event.
No suspicious visitor.
No unknown medication.
At least, none that I knew about.
Margaret contacted the hospital's patient records office to arrange an authorized request.
I called Grandpa's cardiologist's office and asked for a follow-up conversation about his final hospitalization.
Then I sat quietly, waiting for the panic to ease.
Chloe stopped pacing.
"Clara."
I looked at her.
"I'm sorry."
I frowned.
"For what?"
"For saying that."
She wiped her face.
"I didn't mean to make you think somebody killed him."
I took a breath.
"You told me what you heard."
"But I should've explained it better."
She sat across from me.
"Victor was angry because Grandpa wouldn't sign."
"I know."
"And Dad said they needed the deal done before the county changed the zoning."
Margaret looked up.
"What zoning?"
Chloe shook her head.
"I don't know."
Margaret made a note.
Then my phone rang.
It was an unfamiliar local number.
I answered.
"Hello?"
"Clara Bennett?"
"Yes."
"This is Daniel Reyes."
I stopped breathing.
The room blurred for a second.
"Daniel?"
"Yeah."
His voice was warm.
A little hesitant.
"I hope I'm not calling at a bad time."
I looked at the photograph on the desk.
The one of his mother holding me as a baby.
"No."
I swallowed.
"No, it's okay."
"I heard about your grandfather."
My eyes filled.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"He was a good man."
I stared at the wall.
"You knew him?"
Daniel paused.
"Yeah."
Then he gave a small laugh.
"Pretty well, actually."
Something inside me shifted.
"How?"
"He used to visit my family's restaurant."
I blinked.
"Restaurant?"
"My mom owns a little place downtown."
I remembered Grandpa mentioning a small diner near the courthouse.
He always said it had the best chicken soup in the county.
I never knew why he went there so often.
Daniel continued.
"He helped me apply for college."
My eyes filled.
"What?"
"Your grandfather was stubborn about education."
I laughed through my tears.
"That's true."
"He found out I wanted to study physical therapy."
Daniel paused.
"And he told me people who'd been through hard things sometimes understood healing better than anyone else."
My throat tightened.
That was Grandpa.
Always.
He looked at broken things and imagined what they could become.
Daniel's voice softened.
"He talked about you a lot."
I closed my eyes.
"He did?"
"All the time."
I swallowed.
"What did he say?"
Daniel laughed.
"That you were smarter than him."
I shook my head.
"He said that about everybody."
"No."
His tone turned serious.
"He was really proud of you."
Tears slipped down my face.
"He said you were going to do something good with your life."
I couldn't speak.
Daniel let the silence sit.
Then he said, "My mom wanted me to call."
I looked at the photograph.
"Elena?"
"Yeah."
"Grandpa gave me a picture of her."
He was quiet for a moment.
"I know which one."
"She was holding me."
"Right."
I stared at the image.
"Why did she come to see me?"
Daniel exhaled.
"Because my mom found out your parents were blaming you."
I closed my eyes.
"She wanted to make sure you weren't carrying that."
I pressed my hand to my mouth.
Daniel continued.
"Clara, I don't remember everything about the accident."
"I was seven."
"Some parts are clear."
"Some aren't."
I swallowed.
"Do you remember the car?"
"Yes."
My heart started pounding.
"Do you remember who was driving?"
There was a long pause.
Then he said, "I remember a man."
I gripped the phone.
"What?"
Daniel spoke carefully.
"I remember looking up and seeing a man behind the wheel."
I sat perfectly still.
"Are you sure?"
"I remember seeing him."
He paused.
"But I also know childhood memories can change, especially after something traumatic."
Margaret looked at me questioningly.
I held up one finger.
Daniel continued.
"I never wanted to say something I couldn't prove."
I swallowed.
"But you told Grandpa?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Years ago."
I stared at his mother's photograph.
Another piece of Grandpa's quiet investigation.
Another truth he'd been protecting until he could verify it.
Daniel said, "There's something else."
My heartbeat quickened.
"What?"
"Your grandfather asked me to give you something."
I sat forward.
"What?"
"A box."
My eyes moved toward the green metal cash box in Grandpa's desk.
"Is it green?"
Daniel sounded surprised.
"How did you know?"
I stood.
"Where is it?"
"At my mother's restaurant."
I looked at Margaret.
Daniel continued.
"Samuel gave it to her last spring."
My heart pounded.
"He said if anything happened before he could finish sorting out his affairs, she should make sure you got it."
I closed my eyes.
Grandpa.
Still planning.
Still protecting me.
Even when I didn't know there was danger.
Daniel's voice grew softer.
"Clara, there's a letter inside."
I swallowed.
"What does it say?"
"I haven't read it."
He paused.
"But your grandfather wrote something on the envelope."
"What?"
Daniel took a breath.
"Don't let Robert see the ledger."
My blood ran cold.
Because Dad had sent Chloe into Grandpa's study looking for a green metal box.
May you like
And now I understood why.
Somewhere across town, the evidence he wanted was waiting for me.
