Chapter 7: The Voice on the Phone
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Dad stared at the phone on the floor.
Madison was crying silently.
Vanessa had both hands pressed against her mouth.
And I couldn't stop thinking about the voice.
It had sounded exactly like my mother.
Not similar.
Not close.
Exactly.
The soft way she stretched my name.
The tiny breath between words.
The warmth that used to make me feel safe whenever I woke from a nightmare.
But my mother had been dead for three years.
“Dad,” I whispered.
He didn't answer.
“Dad, was that Mom?””
He finally looked at me.
His eyes were wet.
“I don't know.””
Vanessa shook her head violently.
“It was her.””
Dad turned toward her.
“You said you saw Laura.””
“I did.””
“You said she spoke to you.””
“Yes.””
“And you never told me?””
“I was afraid.””
“Afraid of what?””
Vanessa lowered her hands.
“She told me that if I told you, you would never forgive me.””
Dad stared at her.
“For what?””
Vanessa's lips trembled.
“For what I did before she died.””
I felt my stomach twist.
“What did you do?””
Vanessa looked at me.
“I met Laura.””
“You already said that.””
“No.”” She swallowed.
“I met her before she died.””
Dad's face hardened.
“When?””
“Six weeks before.””
The same date as the photograph.
I remembered the red folder.
The missing line from the letter.
Daniel's name.
The account.
Everything seemed to connect, but I couldn't see the shape of it.
Dad took a slow breath.
“What happened when you met her?””
Vanessa walked to the kitchen table and sat down.
“She called me.””
“Why?””
“She wanted to talk.””
“About what?””
“You.””
Dad frowned.
“Me?””
“She knew we were getting serious.””
Dad's expression changed.
“She knew about us?””
“Yes.””
“She was dying.””
“I know.””
“And you met her anyway?””
“I didn't know how sick she really was.””
Dad looked away.
Vanessa continued.
“She asked me one question.””
“What?””
“She asked whether I intended to marry you.””
Dad's jaw tightened.
“What did you say?””
“I said yes.””
“And what did she say?””
Vanessa stared at the table.
“She told me not to.””
Silence.
“She said you weren't ready,” Vanessa whispered.
“She said you were vulnerable, and she was afraid someone would take advantage of you.””
Dad laughed bitterly.
“She thought you were taking advantage of me?””
Vanessa nodded.
“She didn't trust me.””
“Why?””
“She said she had found something.””
Dad leaned forward.
“What?””
“A financial irregularity.””
I felt my pulse quicken.
“The account?””
“Yes.””
“What did she know?””
“I don't know.””
“You keep saying that.””
“Because Laura never told me everything.””
Dad stared at her.
“What did she give you?””
Vanessa's eyes moved toward me.
“A key.””
“What key?””
“A small brass key.””
Dad stood.
“Where is it?””
“I don't have it.””
“Where is it?””
“I gave it back.””
“To Laura?””
“No.””
“Then who?””
Vanessa hesitated.
“Daniel.””
Dad went completely still.
“You knew Daniel before Laura died.””
“Yes.””
“How?””
“He was helping her investigate the account.””
Dad looked toward the staircase.
“And you still married me?””
“I loved you.””
“You lied to me.””
“I was scared.””
“You stole from Ethan.””
“I know.””
“You used Madison.””
“I know.””
“And now you're telling me my dead wife warned you about me?””
“No.”” Vanessa shook her head.
“She warned me about someone else.””
Dad stopped.
“Who?””
Vanessa looked at me.
“Ethan.””
My blood ran cold.
“What?””
“She said that if anything happened to her, Ethan would be the one person everyone would try to use.””
Dad frowned.
“Why?””
“Because the money was never just an inheritance.””
“What does that mean?””
“I don't know.””
“Vanessa.””
“I don't know, Michael!””
She stood.
“She told me there was something hidden in the account. Something that wasn't supposed to be there.””
Dad stared at her.
“What?””
“Records.””
“What kind?””
“I don't know.””
“Who put them there?””
“Someone connected to your business.””
Dad's expression changed.
“My business?””
Vanessa nodded.
“She said someone had been moving money through companies connected to your restoration shop.””
Dad stepped backward.
“That makes no sense.””
“She said it did.””
“What companies?””
“I don't know.””
“Then why would she write me that letter?””
“Because she knew she might not have time to explain.””
Dad looked at me.
I could see the pieces moving through his mind.
Then he suddenly turned toward the study.
“The red folder.””
He ran upstairs.
I followed.
He opened the bottom drawer again and pulled out the folder.
The photograph was still there.
So was the letter.
But something was missing.
Dad stared at the empty space beneath the papers.
“What?””
He didn't answer.
I looked inside.
There was a rectangular indentation in the dust.
Something had been stored there.
Something about the size of a small notebook.
Dad whispered, “The ledger.””
“What ledger?””
“My father kept records of every business transaction when he owned the shop.””
“Where is it?””
“I thought your mother had it.””
Vanessa appeared in the doorway.
“She did.””
Dad looked at her.
“Where?””
“She gave it to Daniel.””
“Why?””
“Because she trusted him.””
Dad's face tightened.
“Then why did she tell me to look for it?””
Vanessa shook her head.
“I don't know.””
A soft sound came from downstairs.
A door opening.
Dad grabbed my shoulder.
“Stay here.””
He moved into the hallway.
Vanessa followed.
Madison called from below.
“Dad?””
No answer.
Then she screamed.
Dad raced down the stairs.
I followed despite his warning.
Madison was standing beside the front door.
The door was open.
Rain blew across the entryway.
On the welcome mat was a small brown envelope.
No stamp.
No address.
Just one word written on the front.
*ETHAN.*
Dad picked it up.
“Don't touch it,” Vanessa said.
He opened it carefully.
Inside was a single photograph.
I stared at it.
My mother.
She was standing outside a hospital.
Alive.
The date printed on the bottom was three months after the hospital records said she had died.
Dad dropped the photograph.
Nobody breathed.
Then I noticed something behind my mother's shoulder.
A man stood beside a black car.
Daniel.
And written across the back of the photograph were six words.
*Ask your father where she went.*
Dad looked at me.
His face had lost all color.
I whispered,
“Dad… did Mom really die?””
He didn't answer.
Instead, he picked up the phone and called the hospital where my mother had supposedly died.
The person who answered listened to his question.
Then Dad slowly sank onto the floor.
“What did they say?”” I asked.
He looked at me.
“They have no record of your mother being discharged.””
“That means she died there.””
“No.””
May you like
His voice broke.
“It means she was never there.””
