Chapter 3 - THE BLOOD WASN’T THE WORST THING
Detective Bennett asked me to come downtown.
I called Dad's attorney first.
Jim told me not to speculate, not to destroy messages, and not to contact Mark again until I understood what was happening.
Then he said:
“Keep Robert at the hospital until his doctors discharge him. Don't change his care because of Mark.”
That was the first sensible version of the instruction Mark had given me.
At police headquarters, Bennett explained that Mark's SUV had been found after someone reported it partially blocking the entrance to a closed title-services office shortly after two in the morning.
The driver's door was unlocked.
Nobody was inside.
A tow inventory uncovered a leather portfolio in the cargo area.
It contained copies of Dad's driver's license, Social Security card, tax statements, property records, and a preliminary home-equity loan package for $225,000.
Borrower:
Robert Ellis Bennett.
Property:
Dad's house.
My throat tightened.
“His signature?”
“Several documents appear signed.”
“He didn't sign them.”
“We'll need him to say that himself.”
Bennett slid another photograph across the table.
A bloodstained hand towel lay beside the portfolio.
“There was blood on the steering wheel and center console too.”
“Whose?”
“We don't know yet.”
No body.
No black bag.
No evidence somebody had been murdered.
Just enough blood to make the abandoned vehicle impossible to dismiss.
Then Bennett showed me one more thing.
A printed appointment confirmation.
Dad's hospital schedule.
Check-in time.
Testing sequence.
Estimated discharge window.
My own name was listed as his transportation contact.
I remembered Mark standing in our kitchen three nights earlier.
“What exactly are they doing to your dad Friday?”
I had thought he was making conversation.
“A bunch of heart tests.”
“Will they sedate him?”
“Maybe for one of them.”
“How long will you be there?”
“All day, probably.”
He had nodded and gone back to his phone.
At the time, the questions meant nothing.
Now they were sitting in an evidence bag inside his abandoned SUV.
Bennett asked, “Did your husband normally take an interest in your father's medical schedule?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Then I remembered something else.
The night before the appointment, Mark had asked whether Dad still kept his original property deed in the fireproof box in his study.
I'd laughed.
“Why would I know that?”
Mark had smiled.
“Loan officer brain. Ignore me.”
I hadn't thought about it again.
Detective Bennett wrote something down.
Then she asked the question that made my stomach turn.
“Mrs. Walker, did your husband know your father intended to meet an attorney after his hospital appointment?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know why?”
“I think so.”
She closed her notebook.
“Then we need to determine whether your father's hospitalization was simply convenient for your husband.”
“Or what?”
May you like
Bennett looked at me.
“Or whether Friday was chosen because of it.”
