Chapter 17 #2
Ben studied her face, noting the deep creases around her mouth that spoke of years of worry. Her hands, clasped tightly in front of her flowered dress, bore the blue veins and sun spots of age, but they didn't tremble like her husband's. There was strength in her stillness.
“I’m sorry if we upset him,” Ben said. “That was not our intention.”
“It’s fine,” she said with a shake of her head. “My husband can be unpredictable.”
"Mrs. Whitfield," Kelly began, her voice still uneven from the confrontation. "Your husband seemed to—"
"Lori Powell was pregnant," Mrs. Whitfield interrupted, glancing quickly up and down the empty hallway before continuing in a hushed tone. "Eight weeks along, according to the autopsy. Mason agreed to keep it quiet as a favor to her parents."
Ben felt Kelly sway slightly beside him. He placed a steadying hand at the small of her back, not caring if Mrs. Whitfield noticed the gesture.
"You're sure?" Kelly asked, though it wasn't really a question.
Mrs. Whitfield nodded, her mouth set in a grim line.
"The Powells came to our house the night before the report was finalized. They begged him to leave it out. Said Lori had suffered enough indignity. If I were a parent, I might have done the same. This is a small town, you know."
"And he agreed," Ben said flatly.
"Yes. He removed it from the official report.
" Mrs. Whitfield's eyes flickered with something, but she turned away so quickly he couldn’t tell what emotion she was trying to hide.
"The Powells were influential. Robert was on the hospital board.
He'd helped Mason keep his medical license after that.
.. incident with the pregnant woman years before. We owed them."
Ben's jaw tightened. Small towns and their webs of favors and threats. Everyone caught in the sticky strands, unable or unwilling to break free.
"That's illegal," Kelly said, her voice stronger now, indignation bringing color back to her cheeks. "He tampered with evidence in a murder investigation."
"Yes, he did." Mrs. Whitfield didn't attempt to defend her husband's actions. “If you’re expecting me to defend him, you’ll be disappointed. I’m not going to.”
She glanced back at the closed door, then took a step further down the hallway, guiding them away from her husband's room.
"I heard the entire conversation that night," Mrs. Whitfield continued once they were safely out of earshot. "Robert said it would destroy Liz if people knew. She was already barely holding on after Lori's death. He said the pregnancy wasn't relevant to finding the killer."
"But it was," Ben argued. "It gives someone a motive."
"That's what Mason said too, at first." Mrs. Whitfield's smile was sad. "But Robert was persuasive. And Mason... he'd made mistakes in his career. He needed allies, not enemies."
Kelly shook her head, frustration radiating from her in waves.
"Did he know who the father was? Was it Cal?"
"If he knew, he never told me." Mrs. Whitfield's hands twisted together. "Mason isn't a good man, Miss Bateman. I don't pretend otherwise. He's selfish and bitter. He made choices that hurt people. But he's paid a price too."
Her gaze drifted to a small bench near the window at the end of the hallway. She moved toward it, sitting with the careful deliberation of someone whose joints protested every movement. Ben and Kelly sat on either side of her, waiting.
"Mason has pancreatic cancer," Mrs. Whitfield said without preamble. "Less than three months to live, according to his doctors. He refused treatment beyond pain management. Said he'd seen enough people suffer through chemo to know he'd rather go quickly."
Whitfield’s anger at the world didn’t seem so strange now.
"I'm sorry," Kelly said, her voice soft. “I’m so very sorry.”
"Don't be. Mason made his choices. We all did.
" Mrs. Whitfield stared out the window at the carefully manicured garden.
An elderly man with a walker inched along a stone path, a nurse patiently at his side.
"I stood by him through everything. The anger issues.
The drinking. The incident at the hospital.
I took vows, you see. For better or worse. "
Her smile was small, but this time it was genuine.
"But once he's gone, I'm selling the house. Moving to Arizona to be near my sister. I've already made the arrangements."
There was something liberating in the way she said it, as if she'd planned her escape for years and was finally seeing it come to fruition.
Ben wondered what it was like to count down the days until freedom while watching someone you once loved wither away.
The complexity of it made his chest ache, and reminded him that life was fucking complicated.
"Mrs. Whitfield," Ben said gently. "Do you think your husband might know who killed Lori?"
She considered his question, her lined face thoughtful.
"I don't think so. He mentioned once, years ago, when he'd had too much to drink, that the bruising on her neck was unusual. That whoever did it had to be someone she knew well. Someone she trusted enough to get that close to."
"That could be almost anyone in a town this small," Kelly said, but Ben could tell her mind was racing, fitting this new piece into the puzzle.
"Yes. That's the trouble with places like Bergen, isn't it?" Mrs. Whitfield stood, smoothing her dress with practiced hands. "Everyone knows everyone. But no one really knows anyone at all."
She offered them a small nod, a gesture of dismissal that somehow managed to be both firm and polite.
"I should get back to Mason. The nurse will give him something to help him rest, but he'll be asking for me."
"Thank you for your honesty," Kelly said, rising from the bench. "It means a lot."
"The truth deserves a chance," Mrs. Whitfield replied, her voice suddenly fierce.
With that, she turned and walked back down the hallway, her posture once again straight, her steps measured and precise. Ben watched her until she disappeared into her husband's room, the door closing softly behind her.
"Let's go," Ben said quietly, placing his hand on Kelly's shoulder. "We have a lot to think about."
They walked in silence down the corridor, past the nurse's station where the woman with gray curls glanced up briefly before returning to her computer.
The automatic doors opened with a soft whoosh, and then just as quickly closed behind them.
Neither spoke until they reached the car, the weight of what they'd learned settling over them like a heavy blanket.
Lori had been pregnant. The secret had been deliberately covered up.
And somewhere in Bergen, a killer had been walking free for a decade, perhaps thinking they got away with it.
They thought wrong.