Chapter 7 - THE CALL AT 2:13
Nolan Price arrived for his police interview wearing a navy suit and the expression of a man offended by inconvenience.
He was forty-two, broad-shouldered, carefully groomed, and known around town for donating free repair work to veterans and elderly homeowners.
After Aaron’s death, Nolan kept the company alive.
He spoke at the funeral.
He carried the casket.
He gave Drew a wooden toy truck with the company logo carved into its side.
Nolan admitted receiving a call from Aaron’s number at 2:13 a.m.
“Aaron called me often,” he said.
“Why did you never mention the call?”
“No one asked.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. The connection was poor.”
“Records indicate forty-eight seconds.”
“I heard breathing and then the line went dead.”
“Did you call back?”
“Yes.”
Records showed no return call from Nolan’s personal phone.
He said he may have used the company line.
Investigators requested those records.
The company’s archive for that month was missing.
Nolan blamed a server failure.
He denied redirecting Peter’s call.
He denied buying the basement camera for Reena.
He denied moving company money improperly.
When shown the account purchase for the camera, he said several employees used the login.
When shown Aaron’s unfinished letter, he said Aaron had become paranoid due to medication and business stress.
“Which medication?” the detective asked.
“Heart pills. Anxiety pills. I don’t know.”
Aaron had been prescribed a beta blocker after episodes of rapid heartbeat and fainting. Medical records showed he missed two cardiology appointments in the month before his death.
Both appointments had been canceled through the patient portal.
The login came from Reena’s home internet connection.
Reena said Aaron canceled them himself.
No one could prove otherwise from the login record alone.
Aaron’s family physician had signed the death certificate after reviewing emergency-room findings and Aaron’s known cardiac symptoms. No autopsy had been performed.
Aaron had been cremated.
That meant the question of whether medication, neglect, or another factor contributed to his death might never receive a complete medical answer.
Peter struggled with that limitation.
He wanted science to reach backward and produce certainty.
It could not.
Investigators examined surviving hospital samples and records, but no stored blood remained from the night of Aaron’s death. Pharmacy records showed his prescriptions had been filled. They did not prove he had taken the medication correctly or who had controlled the bottles.
One fact remained disturbing.
Reena told emergency responders that Aaron collapsed at 2:41 a.m. and that she called 911 immediately.
A neighbor’s old doorbell recording had captured Reena stepping outside at 2:06 a.m., speaking on her phone, then returning inside.
The 911 call was placed thirty-five minutes later.
The recording contained no usable audio.
Reena said she had been talking to a friend before Aaron’s collapse.
Her phone records showed contact with Nolan.
The call lasted twenty-two minutes.
Nolan claimed they discussed a damaged company truck.
Neither could explain why the conversation occurred after two in the morning.
Those circumstances created suspicion.
They did not establish homicide.
At home, Peter tried not to let the investigation consume every hour.
Drew began physical therapy.
The first session ended after twelve minutes when the therapist approached too quickly and touched the injured leg without warning.
At the second session, she asked permission before every movement.
Drew completed twenty minutes.
Lily began speaking more.
Her first complete sentence to Peter was, “Drew needs his blanket.”
She said it when Drew woke screaming from a nightmare.
Peter carried the blanket in and sat beside both children until sunrise.
Later, Drew asked, “Did Dad call you?”
Peter hesitated.
Children deserved truth, but not adult guilt presented as a burden they must relieve.
“He tried,” Peter said. “The call did not reach me.”
“Why?”
“We’re still learning.”
“Would he be alive if you answered?”
Peter’s throat closed.
“I don’t know.”
Drew watched him carefully.
“Reena said yes.”
“She could not know that.”
“She said you chose to sleep.”
“I did not hear the phone.”
“Were you mad at Dad?”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt.
“But being angry did not mean I wanted him hurt. I would have answered if I heard him.”
Drew looked down.
“Dad was mad at me the night before.”
“Parents get angry.”
“I spilled blue paint on his book.”
Peter leaned forward.
“His blue ledger?”
Drew nodded.
“Where were you?”
“At the shop.”
“What happened to the book?”
“Dad put it in the red truck.”
“The company truck?”
“The little truck.”
Drew pointed toward the shelf where the wooden toy Nolan had given him after the funeral rested.
Peter did not touch it.
He called the detective.
Inside the toy truck was a folded strip of paper bearing a bank-routing number, three dates, and the initials R.C. and N.P.
The blue ledger itself was not there.
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But the first date matched a transfer of forty-eight thousand dollars from Aaron’s company to a consulting account.
The account belonged to Reena Cole—Reena’s legal name before marrying Aaron.
