Chapter 33 #2
He could see his parents doing that. His father’s death would make more sense if there had been something serious going on.
Rowan could absolutely see Martin not wanting to share news of some fatal illness with the family.
He might have been embarrassed by something—it certainly wouldn’t be in keeping with his provider image.
And, an accidental death made sure his life insurance paid out.
After everything that had gone on with the flood and more, Martin Velasco kept his family insured to the hilt.
Rowan was on the phone before he even thought about it, calling the number on his document.
The hospital would have their own copy of this power of attorney on file.
Still, it took a good thirty minutes for them to look up the information, agree that Rowan should have access to it, and then pull all the records and get them emailed to him.
Combing through them kept him busy for the next several hours.
Later when he hung up, the sun had disappeared.
One hand stroked the dark beard he kept neatly trimmed.
It was not what he’d expected. His father had no underlying conditions, or they hadn’t been on his hospital records despite several recurring kidney stones and a second surgery about four months before he died.
Martin had prostate cancer—but they all knew that.
The surgery for that had been a year earlier and all documentation showed it went well.
His father had been given a clean bill of health.
The doctor told them that for any man who lived long enough, eventually they would get prostate cancer, and that treatments had moved into a new century.
As long as it was caught early—and Martin’s was—he should survive just fine. He had. That hadn’t been the problem.
But his father had been found face down in the water, seemingly an accident, two miles down from where his car was parked. His body was found in the clothes he’d worn to work that day, as if he had stopped at the river parking to admire a bird or the sunset, fallen in, and been carried down.
“It was an accident!” his mother insisted. But there was something about the vehemence in her voice that let Rowan know she might have suspected otherwise.
What else could it have been? Rowan thought. It wasn’t like his father was out there fishing.
Diving back into the medical records, he looked for more. The hospital had sent over their full file, including diagnoses and updates from their family doctor and more. Rowan looked through all of it, at last arriving at his father’s autopsy.
He’d not paid much attention at the time.
His father had drowned. The findings showed no hint of murder or anything like that.
No stab or bullet wounds. No bruising indicating his father had been in some kind of a struggle.
Sure enough, as Rowan pulled up the autopsy and read it thoroughly for the first time, he saw only what he’d already been told.
There was water in his father’s lungs. Martin Velasco had drowned in the very waters that had stolen their first home.
After a few minutes, Rowan found his copy of the police report.
This time he read it thoroughly. Martin appeared to have parked his car it the lot for fishing, wading, and river access.
GPS noted that he pulled over from his usual route home from work.
It appeared he’d gotten out of the car, closed the door—no signs of anything out of the ordinary—then stepped down to the river’s edge.
The police knew this because they had found his footprints in the mud at the edge of the lot.
The direction of the prints had him moving away from his car toward the edge of the water.
One of the treads had preserved the imprint of the brand on the sole of his shoe that he was found wearing, so they knew the prints were Martin’s and that he’d exited the parking lot in a direct line from where his car was left.
Still, it didn’t make any sense.
Rowan read it again, looking for something he might have missed.
He was reading it a third time when his stomach growled.
Home was forty minutes away. He’d let the lease on the Richmond apartment expire and officially moved back to Belle Hollow after his father passed.
He wasn’t going to make it that far, and he wasn’t sure he could face his mother or his brother or even his youngest sister tonight.
Indie always seemed to know what was on his mind and he didn’t want her reading his thoughts now.
Not with the crazy ideas swirling in his head, not with no proof.
Grabbing his phone again, he tapped out a quick message. - Eating here, home late. Don’t wait for me.
It was well past their usual meal time, but last night they’d waited. He couldn’t handle that again. Rowan checked everything else he could get his hands on, but nothing solved the mystery of the sharp edge to his mother’s voice.
Giving up for the night, he closed the office almost absent-mindedly, his stomach growling, his mind churning.
Then, in a burst of clarity, Rowan turned around and rechecked all the locks.
The old Victorian had too many, it seemed, but he wasn’t going to be the reason the partners had a break-in or the police called and said the security system wasn’t set.
Finally, out the door, his stomach dictated the short drive to a sandwich shop.
He waited at the counter but wasn’t quite in the mood to sit at one of the tables, where he might run into somebody he’d either taken a case for or against, or even just someone who might want to be friendly.
Climbing into the car, he drove around to the lot at the back of the building, which was at least well lit.
He ate the sandwich almost without tasting any of it.
Annelise was mad at his father and mad at him for defending his father.
He knew that much. She’d told him she knew it, but couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say how.
His mother was hiding something about his father’s death, though Rowan had no idea what that could be.
If he wanted Annelise back, he’d have to figure it all out.
As he found the wax paper empty and looked down to see the fries were untouched, sitting in the cup holder next to him, he suddenly realized that the two things were likely connected. If he followed this trail, he might very well find things he didn’t want to know.
The question was, was he willing to open old wounds and possibly even expose family secrets for a chance at winning Annelise back?
He drove home in the haze of trying to come to grips with a decision he had somehow made without making it. He must not have been paying attention, because he parked in the garage and headed up the stairs into the main house, only to find his family sitting around the table with Annelise Lockheart.