Procedures that were undocumented. It pointed to potential malpractice or, at the least, severe negligence,” Dr. Harris explained.
My mind raced back to Jason’s demeanor at the funeral, his insistence on keeping the casket closed. “Could someone have altered her records or interfered with her treatment?” I asked, dread pooling in my stomach. Dr.
Harris nodded slowly. “It’s a possibility we couldn’t ignore, which is why we involved the authorities.”
Tom and I exchanged a glance. This wasn’t just about hospital errors or red tape.
There was something more sinister at play, something Jason was entangled in. “We need to know everything,” Tom said firmly. “For Claire, and for our grandchild.”
Dr.
Harris leaned back, sighing. “The investigation is ongoing, but I’ll provide what I can. Just know that sometimes these cases take unexpected turns.”
As we left her office, the sun setting in a blaze of orange and pink, I felt a bittersweet twinge of hope.
We were unraveling the threads of a story that someone had tried desperately to conceal. And though the path ahead was uncertain and fraught with potential heartache, we owed it to Claire to uncover the truth, no matter where it led us. As Tom and I drove home, a silent vow settled between us: we would not rest until we knew why our daughter had been taken from us.
The fight for justice had begun.
