As they were ushered toward the door, Oscar’s furious voice echoed after them, a stream of curses and insults directed at both Della and the guards. Evie looked at her mother and caught the faint, smug curve of her mouth.
“Really, Mom?” she muttered, realization hardening her voice. “You seriously came here just to do that, didn’t you?”
Before Della could answer, a collective gasp rippled through the room. Evie spun around just in time to see Oscar drop to the floor, his hand clutching his chest before sliding limply to his side.
“Dad?” she whispered, taking a step forward only to be stopped by the guard as the room erupted in chaos. One guard shouted into his radio for paramedics while another knelt to check for a pulse, swore, and started chest compressions. He pushed Evie back toward the exit as her mother began screaming Oscar’s name.
They were taken immediately to the warden’s office and told to wait.
Unable to handle her mother’s wailing and sobbing, Evie quietly asked the guard by the door if he could bring Thorn to look after her mother somewhere else. The guard, relieved to have a solution, radioed for someone to escort Thorn to the office.
Within fifteen minutes, Thorn arrived, and after a brief explanation, he took Della away. Evie sank into the chair, putting her head in her hands as she waited for news about Oscar. It was another hour before the warden returned and quietly informed her that Oscar was dead.
Swallowing, Evie nodded, the image of Oscar’s arm falling to the floor looping endlessly in her mind. “What happens now?” she asked. Her voice was steady, though she couldn’t tell if it was shock or simple indifference that kept it that way. There were no tears, only acceptance.
“Well,” the warden said, sitting behind his desk and waking up his computer, “because your father died in custody, there will be an autopsy and an internal investigation, although it appears that the preliminary cause of death was cardiac arrest. Once that’s complete, his body will be…” He paused, scanning something on the screen. “Released into your custody.”
“My custody?” Evie froze; not sure she heard him correctly. “Why?”
“According to the paperwork we have here,” he turned the monitor toward her and pointed to a line on the document, “you’re listed as next of kin and executor of his estate.” He slid a folder across the desk and offered her a pen. “I’ll need your signature on these forms, and then you can go.”
“Oh. Well, isn’t that just great?” Evie murmured, taking the pen. She signed where he indicated, barely glancing at the titles.
“Thank you, Miss Stanley.” The warden nodded, gathering the folder. “My condolences regarding your father.”
Chapter Eighteen: White Lines
A few days after Oscar died, Evie received a phone call from the medical examiner who let her know that her father had passed from myocardial infarction due to long-term cardiovascular disease, exacerbated by a history of substance abuse.
“I’m sorry, what does that mean?” Evie asked, shaken. “I know you’re saying he had a heart attack, but substance abuse? What kind of substance abuse?”
“I found evidence consistent with long-term intranasal cocaine use,”the examiner said gently.“He showed all the typical signs of chronic use, thinning and ulceration of the nasal mucosa, and erosion of the septum to the point of perforation.”
“I also found scarring in the heart muscle that indicates multiple prior cardiacevents,”the examiner continued.“And there were a few healed rib fractures consistent with previous resuscitation attempts. Based on the degree of healing, I’destimate he suffered at least one major cardiac arrest, possibly in his forties, but that’s an educated guess, not something I can date precisely.”
“I had no idea.” Evie murmured, feeling blindsided. She would have been very young - possibly not even born, depending on how early in his forties the heart attacks occurred, - but she was stunned it had never been mentioned, especially considering how often Oscar threw temper tantrums.
The medical examiner went on to explain that the preliminary investigation by state police had found no evidence that Oscar’s death was related to staff actions. Toxicology showed nothing unusual in his system, so while the official inquiry was still open, the body could be released. Evie could contact a funeral home to arrange pickup and proceed with burial or cremation.
Evie called the first funeral home that came up in her search, Barclay & Sons Funeral Home, and emailed the medical examiner to let her know they would be in touch to arrange pick-up. Then she contacted Fred Hurst, a lawyer who had once sat on the Sloane Technologies board and an old family friend who had handled all of Henry and Mary’s, and later Oscar and Della’s, legal matters. Evie had known him her entire life and thought of him as a bonus uncle.
After they exchanged brief greetings and condolences, she told him about her father’s death, and Fred, mostly retired these days, cancelled his golf game and told her to meet him at his office that afternoon.
Before she left to meet with him, Evie went to her mother’s room to check on her. She’d been in almost a catatonic state since they came home from the prison, lying on her bed, eyes closed, rosary in hand as she mumbled the prayers over each bead, barely responding to any attempt at conversation.
She was still eating the meals Evie left by her bedside and taking care of her basic needs, so Evie wasn’t concerned enough to call an ambulance. She decided this was simply her mother’s way of grieving Oscar, and she wasn’t going to start a fight about it.
To her surprise, when she knocked and opened the door, her mother was sitting up against the headboard, readingsomething on her phone. She set it aside when Evie came in, smiling and patting the bed beside her.
Evie sat down and leaned against her, taking the rare moment of affection when Della draped an arm around her shoulders.
“I’m so proud of you,” her mother said after a few moments of silence. “You’re handling all of this with so much dignity and poise.” She pressed a kiss to the side of Evie’s head. “He loved you, you know. In his own way. He just wasn’t very good at showing it.”
It was these flashes of calm lucidity that made Evie wonder if she should have her mother checked for dementia or maybe a stroke. They were few and far between lately. On Fred’s advice, she’d had power of attorney paperwork drawn up when her mother moved back the previous year, just in case she relapsed or got sick. Della had signed without protest, saying it was good to plan ahead. Technically, Evie could have forced the issue now, but she didn’t want to push her further into whatever strange mix of grief and religion had taken hold of her.
Seizing the moment, Evie smiled faintly and murmured a quiet thank you before deciding to ask the question that had been bothering her. “I spoke to the medical examiner about Oscar,” she said carefully. “She mentioned he had a history of heart problems, most likely caused by cocaine use.”
She paused, watching her mother’s face for a reaction. When Della sighed sadly and nodded, Evie felt the air leave her lungs.
