Chapter 21: Chapter 21

The rain began just as Evan stepped out of the car. It fell in thin, steady sheets, tapping against the brim of his coat as he crossed the gravel path leading to the doctor’s house.

Dr. Harold Haines lived in quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of town, a small, ivy-draped property surrounded by neglect and rot. The air smelled of damp earth and something faintly medicinal, the kind of place where secrets are hidden and left to rot quietly.

Evan stood at the door for a moment before knocking. He didn’t know what to expect. The man had vanished from public life twenty years ago after the death of Anderson John, the criminal lawyer who’d represented the Morels, and of course, the mysterious passing of Mr. Linton.

When the door opened, it was slow, hesitant,  as if the hinges hadn’t been used in a long while.

A tall, frail man appeared, his eyes sunken but alert. recognition flickered there for the briefest moment.

“Dr. Haines?” Evan asked.

The doctor studied him for a heartbeat too long before stepping aside. “Come in. You look too much like your father for me to turn you away.”

Evan blinked. “You knew my father?”

“I knew everyone who was important enough to be connected to whoever knew the morels back then,” Haines said quietly, leading him into a narrow hallway lined with old certificates and framed photos. The air inside was heavy, the curtains drawn tight.

They moved into the sitting room, where a small lamp cast long shadows across stacks of old medical files. The doctor gestured to a chair.

“Your father and I crossed paths when a friend of his, Charles Linton worked for Anthony Morel. I suppose you’re here because of him.”

Evan sat, his notebook in hand. “You could say that.”

Haines sighed, sinking into his armchair. “I’ve wondered when the past would come knocking.”

He reached for a glass of whiskey on the table, took a slow sip, and looked at Evan with a weary sort of defiance. “So, what do you want to know?”

“I want the truth,” Evan said simply. “About Anderson John. About Mr. Linton. About what really happened.”

The doctor gave a small, humorless laugh. “The truth,” he murmured. “That’s a dangerous thing to want.”

“Maybe,” Evan said. “But I want it anyway.”

Haines studied him for a long moment, then set down the glass. “Anderson John didn’t die of a heart attack.”

Evan’s pulse quickened. “Go on.” Evan brought out a mini recorder and placed on the table. “ can I record our conversation?”. “Yes you can Haines answered”.

“He was poisoned.”

The words hung in the air, bleak and cold.

Haines leaned forward, his voice lowering. “The autopsy was falsified. I was the attending physician, but the report you’ve seen wasn’t mine. A week after I signed the initial papers, someone from the Morels’ office sent me a ‘corrected’ version. It listed myocardial infarction. They said  changing it was for the sake of the family’s reputation. That Anderson’s sudden death during ongoing legal disputes might look… unfortunate.”

Evan stared at him. “You’re saying they forced you to change the report?”

“I didn’t change it,” Haines said, his voice trembling now. “They did. But they made sure I signed the new one to make it look authentic.”

He rubbed a shaking hand over his face. “I should’ve fought it. But I had a daughter in medical school then and medical school and my life style back then was expensive.”

“And Mr. Linton?” Evan asked.

Haines looked up sharply, his eyes filled with regret and  guilt. “That one still haunts me to this day.”

He hesitated, then stood and crossed to a drawer near the window. He pulled out an old, weathered envelope and handed it to Evan. Inside were several photographs,  close-ups of a twisted car wreck, and mechanical schematics marked with red ink.

“Linton’s death wasn’t an accident,” Alder said. “His brakes were tampered with. I know because I was there when the cop who worked for the morels examined the car and removed all traces of evidence of tampering by swapping it with another one, before the police took it away. The line had been cut deliberately,  a clean slice, not wear or rust.”

Evan’s voice was low. “And you didn’t report it?”

“I couldn’t, because the morels are also funding my lifestyle, he said looking down, shame written all over his face. And the police officer handling the case was also bought,  everyone was. When I  became uncomfortable with it all and wanted to speak to a reporter, two men came to my house that night and told me to let it go, or watch my family suffer. A week later, a huge sum of money was paid into my account with a warning for me to disappear. So I  left the city with my family, disappeared and changed my name.”

Evan leaned back, his heart pounding. “You’ve lived with this for twenty years.”

Haines nodded slowly. “Some debts can’t be paid with silence anymore. Your father,  he tried to help Linton before he died. He knew something was wrong, but by the time he came to me for the truth, there was nothing I could do, it was too late. The case has already been closed and the Morels had buried everything.”

Evan’s jaw tightened. “You can still help fix this.”

The old man looked at him with weary eyes. “How? nobody would believe me even if i come out to speak now"

“ people will believe you all right once you come out and tell your story to the world. you and i are not the only ones in this, Doctor. There are others more powerful than the morels. And we have someone in law enforcement who’s willing to listen.”

Relief was written all over the doctor’s face. “It won’t bring them back,” he murmured.

“No,” Evan said softly. “But it will make the Morels answer for what they did.”