Chapter 10 - The Doctor
Dr. Peter Sloan had never worked at St. Matthew's.
At least not under that name.
Nine years earlier, before becoming a neurologist, Sloan had been a resident named Peter Sloane with an extra e.
He rotated through St. Matthew's obstetrics unit the week Rachel gave birth.
His supervisor had written him up for accessing charts outside his assignment.
Grant Vale had represented the hospital in the internal review.
I remembered sitting in Sloan's office six months earlier while Vanessa held my hand.
"Stress can affect memory," he told me. "Let your wife help with important decisions for a while."
He had prescribed pills that left me foggy.
Vanessa started placing documents in front of me during breakfast.
Insurance forms. Tax forms. Company proxies.
I had signed some without reading every page.
The shame of that almost swallowed me.
"Trusting your spouse isn't a crime. Forging paperwork is."
Police picked Sloan up at his clinic.
He denied everything until they showed him the badge recovered from my house.
Then he asked for a lawyer.
Two hours later, he changed his mind.
Grant had been paying him through a consulting company.
His job was to build a medical record suggesting I was cognitively impaired.
Vanessa would use it to obtain emergency control over my finances and Oliver's custody.
"Did you know about the second baby?" Mara asked.
"I knew there was an infant transfer."
"To whom?"
"Vale handled it."
"Why?"
He rubbed both hands over his face.
"Money. At first. Then it became bigger."
"How?"
"Because Rachel woke up after the delivery and threatened to expose all of them."
"All of who?"
Then he said, "Your wife didn't die from complications, Daniel."
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"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying somebody changed her chart before she died."
