I read it slowly.
Then looked up.
"You suspected Mom was involved?"
Dad nodded.
"At first, I thought she'd been misled. Then I discovered that someone had altered the treatment records and removed documentation of the second injury."
"Was it her?"
"I didn't know."
"Did you ask?"
"Yes."
My heartbeat thundered.
"What did she say?"
Dad closed his eyes.
"She told me that if I pursued the investigation, I would destroy our family."
I stared at him.
"And?"
"I reported my concerns."
"What happened?"
"The hospital suspended me. The research sponsor threatened legal action. Then your mother began proceedings concerning your care."
His voice broke.
"I had copies of the records, but I didn't have enough evidence to prove every allegation. I spent years trying to find the missing pieces."
I looked toward the blue box.
"And you didn't tell me."
"No."
"Seventeen years, Dad."
He began crying.
"I know."
