Free Missing Persons by Clare O'Donohue Page A

version of Frank. In true crime, we always start with the crime. Then we tell the backstory, introduce the suspects, show the evidence, and, finally, reveal the killer.
    Dumb as it was, if I was going to figure out what had happened, the only place I could think to start was at the beginning of the show.
     
     
    “I’m looking for Dr. Milton,” I told the nurse at the desk.
    “He’s with a patient. You’ll have to wait.” She seemed not to notice my urgency or care when I expressed it. When I didn’t move from her desk, she said it again.
    It was the same waiting room, the same knot in my stomach. I sat and watched the families come and go. They all looked worried then relieved, or worried and then sad. Life was beginning and ending, and they were all waiting to find out which end of the spectrum they were on.
    After about an hour, Dr. Milton came down the hall. He looked about to pass me, so I stood in front of him.
    “I’m not sure you remember me,” I said.
    “I remember you. What can I do for you?”
    “I’d like to talk to you.”
    He seemed uncomfortable at the idea. “I only have a few minutes. It’s a busy night.”
    “I wanted to ask why you called the police.”
    That made him even more uncomfortable. I changed tactics.
    “Can we sit down?” I asked, a calm, reassuring, and completely fake tone in my voice.
    He gestured toward two seats as far away from other people as was possible. “Mrs. Conway,” he started.
    I could hear dismissal in his voice, so I interrupted him. “Dr. Milton, if you remember me then you remember that I wasn’t alone in this waiting room. I was with my husband’s new girlfriend.”
    “Vera.”
    “You know her first name?”
    “She brought me carrot cake the day after. She wanted to thank me for doing my best.”
    I laughed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know her well. It’s just—odd, I guess. I’m sure the whole situation looked odd to you. It might even have looked suspicious.”
    “Look, Mrs. Conway. I didn’t get in touch with the police because your husband’s girlfriend was with you in the waiting room. I don’t care about his personal life.”
    “Then why did you? I know how this looks, my coming here to find out what you know, but I just need to understand. You must encounter a lot of people faced with the same news I got, and we’re all looking to the only person we can think of who might have some answers.” I could see him nodding in agreement, so I asked what I’d wondered about since the night Frank died. “Did he tell you something?”
    “No. He never regained consciousness.”
    “Then what made his death suspicious?”
    “He had the symptoms of a heart attack, but I didn’t think he had one. It didn’t feel right. And the autopsy confirmed it. His heart was fine.”
    “Then what did he die of?”
    He shook his head. “As far as I know, the medical examiner has listed the cause of death as undetermined. They’re testing tissue samples they took from his body, but it could be weeks before there are any results.”
    “Do you think he was murdered?”
    “I don’t draw conclusions like that. That’s for the medical examiner and the police. That’s why they were asked to get involved.” He stood up. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Conway. I have to get back to work.”
    For the second time in a week, Dr. Milton had delivered lifechanging news and then walked away. At least this time I didn’t have my husband’s mistress clutching my hand. But that was small comfort. If Frank’s death were a story I was producing, Vera would be the person I spoke to next.
     
     
    It only occurred to me as I was driving away from the hospital that I didn’t know where Vera lived or how to get in touch with her. I called Frank’s cell phone, since it was still in her possession, and was startled by the sound of his voice telling me he wasn’t available but would get back to me soon.
    “Fat chance,” I said, but I had to pull the car over to the side of the