Chapter 2 – The Silver Rosary

The siren wailed as I followed the ambulance in my truck, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.

A million-dollar life insurance policy on a baby. My baby.

When I rushed into the emergency room, Amy was pacing the linoleum floor, her cheap shoes squeaking. She still wore the grease-stained clothes from the party. I pulled her into my arms, ignoring the sour smell of dishwater and sweat. She sobbed into my chest, a broken, exhausted sound.

“The doctor is with him,” she choked out. “His fever spiked to 104, Connor. He wouldn’t wake up.”

I held her tight, but the image of her perfect signature on that deed burned in my mind. “Amy, I need to ask you something. Did you sign any papers for my mother?”

She pulled back, her red-rimmed eyes wide with panic. “Papers? No. She only made me sign for the grocery deliveries. She said the delivery guy needed a signature on his digital pad.”

A digital pad. That was it. My mother had copied her digital signature onto the deed. The betrayal was staggering, but relief washed over me—Amy hadn’t betrayed us.

A doctor with a grim expression walked through the swinging doors.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bradley?”

“How is he?” Amy begged, gripping my hand.

“We stabilized his fever,” the doctor said. “But toxicology shows something troubling. Frederick didn’t just have a viral fever. He ingested a high dose of Zolpidem. A heavy sedative.”

“What?” I gasped. “We don’t even have that in the house!”

“My mother,” I whispered, the puzzle pieces clicking together. “She gave him ‘cough syrup’ this morning.”

I pulled out my phone and dialed the police officer still at my house. “Check my mother’s purse,” I demanded.

Two minutes later, the officer called back. “We found a prescription bottle, Mr. Bradley. Zolpidem. But it’s not in your mother’s name.”

“Whose name is it in?”

“It’s prescribed to David Miller.”

My boss again.

I thanked the officer and hung up, my mind reeling. David and my mother. What was their connection?

Before I could speak, the doctor cleared his throat, looking deeply uncomfortable.

“There’s something else, Mr. Bradley. When we took the chest X-rays to check for pneumonia, we found something hidden. An old, healed fracture on Frederick’s third rib. It looks to be about three months old.”