Chapter 4: The Death Certificate That Lied
“Tell me exactly what you mean,” my father demanded.
The phone was pressed so tightly against his ear that his knuckles had turned white. Across Hannah's kitchen, Rose stood with one hand resting on the back of my chair. Hannah had pulled me away from the windows, but I could still see the photograph of our front door on Dad's screen.
The threat had come from someone who knew where we were.
And now a man who was supposed to be dead was telling us that my mother's death certificate had been changed.
Thomas Vale sighed.
“Mark, I can't explain this over the phone. You need to see the documents.””
“What documents?””
“The originals. Your wife kept copies of everything.””
“My wife is dead.””
“I know.””
“You expect me to believe you knew her, disappeared for nine years, and now you're calling me to tell me her death was a lie?””
“I never said her death was a lie. I said the certificate was changed.””
Dad stared at the table.
“Where are you?””
“Not somewhere I can tell you safely.””
Dad let out a humorless laugh.
“Convenient.””
“There's a reason I stayed away. Celia knows I'm alive now, and if she's figured out that I contacted you, she'll move quickly.””
“Move what?””
“The evidence.””
Dad's voice dropped.
“Listen carefully, Thomas. My daughter was burned yesterday because my wife wanted to silence her. Someone threatened her this morning. You have about ten seconds to convince me that this isn't another game.””
There was a long silence.
Then Thomas said, “Ask Rose about the blue music box.””
Rose went rigid.
Dad slowly turned toward her.
“What about it?””
Thomas continued, “Ask her what Celia said when she discovered the box was missing.””
Rose's lips parted.
For a moment, she looked as though she might be sick.
“I didn't tell anyone about that,” she whispered.
Dad covered the phone.
“Tell me what happened.””
Rose pulled out her notebook with unsteady hands.
“Last month, I was cleaning Wren's bedroom. I found the music box under the bed and noticed the little wooden panel underneath was loose.””
I looked at her.
“You opened it?””
“No, sweetheart. I didn't want to damage it.””
“Then what?””
“Celia came in while I was holding it. She took it from me and asked whether I'd seen anything inside. I told her I hadn't opened it.””
Dad turned back to the phone.
“How would Thomas know about that?””
“I told you,” Thomas replied.
“Your wife left evidence. The music box is the key.””
Dad closed his eyes briefly.
“Where can I meet you?””
“Tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock. I'll send you the address through your lawyer.””
“And if you're lying?””
“Then you'll have lost one morning. If I'm telling the truth, you'll finally know why your wife was afraid of Celia.””
The call ended.
Nobody spoke.
Then Hannah pushed a mug of coffee toward Dad.
“Drink something before you collapse.””
He barely glanced at it.
“Rose, did Celia take the box?””
“No. She put it back in Wren's room after I told her I hadn't seen inside it.””
“Did you tell her where you found it?””
“Yes.””
Dad rubbed both hands over his face.
“Then she knows exactly where it is.””
I slid down from my chair.
“Can we get it?””
Dad looked at me.
“Not until we've arranged a safe way to return.””
“But it's Mom's.””
“I know.””
“You said you'd protect me.””
The words came out sharper than I'd intended.
Dad flinched.
For several seconds, he looked like a man searching for an answer he should have known long ago.
Then he crouched in front of me.
“You're right. I did say that. And I'm going to keep that promise. But I won't put you in danger just to get something back quickly.””
I wanted to argue.
Instead, I sat down again and watched him call his lawyer.
By noon, the lawyer, a woman named Patricia Cole, had arranged to meet us at Hannah's house. She arrived carrying a leather briefcase and a folder thick with documents.
She listened to Dad explain the phone call without interrupting.
When he finished, she removed her glasses.
“First, nobody goes back to that house alone,” she said.
“Second, we preserve the threatening message and any other evidence. Third, I want to see the death certificate and every record relating to your wife's accident.””
Dad frowned.
“Why?””
“Because if someone deliberately altered an official document, we need to know what was changed, who authorized it, and why.””
“Can a death certificate even be changed without a record?””
“Corrections can be made through lawful procedures, but there should be documentation. If someone falsified the record, that's an entirely different matter.””
She opened her briefcase.
“Do you have the original certificate?””
“It's in my home office.””
“Who has access?””
Dad's silence answered her question.
“Celia,” Patricia said.
He nodded.
Patricia wrote something on a legal pad.
“Then we obtain certified records independently. We don't rely on copies kept in your house.””
Rose shifted in her chair.
“There's something else.””
Patricia looked at her.
“What is it?””
“When Celia asked about the music box, she said the word original. Not the letter. Not the photograph. The original.””
“Did she say what original?””
“No.””
Patricia made another note.
“Anything else?””
Rose hesitated, then turned to the final pages of her notebook.
“On September 17, Celia received a call while she was in the pantry. I was outside the door. She said, ‘The child still has it. I haven't found a way to get it without Mark asking questions.’”
Dad stood.
“September seventeenth? That was the day she took Wren to the dentist.””
I looked up.
“She told me we were going shopping afterward.””
Rose nodded.
“She came home without the shopping bags. She was furious, too. She told me not to mention the afternoon to you.””
Patricia's expression sharpened.
“Did you record the time?””
“Yes. I wrote it down that evening.””
“Good. Keep that notebook exactly as it is. Don't add anything to the old entries, and don't destroy it.””
For the first time since the soup incident, Rose looked relieved.
“I thought nobody would believe me.””
“I believe that you've recorded what you remember,” Patricia replied.
“We'll investigate the details.””
That afternoon, Patricia arranged for a police officer to document the threatening message and discuss the immediate safety concerns with Dad. She also advised him to keep Celia away from Wren while the situation was assessed.
Dad agreed without hesitation.
I sat on the couch beside Hannah, holding the stuffed fox against my stomach, while the adults talked.
Every few minutes, Dad looked over to make sure I was still there.
Finally, I asked Patricia a question.
“If the music box has the truth inside it, why didn't Mom tell Daddy?””
Patricia took a moment before answering.
“Sometimes people hide evidence because they think the person they love will be safer if nobody knows where it is.””
“Was Mom scared?””
Dad sat beside me.
“I think she was,” he said softly.
“Of Celia?””
“I don't know yet.””
I studied his face.
“Did you know Mom was keeping secrets?””
He looked down at his hands.
“No, sweetheart. I didn't.””
That evening, Patricia received the first message from Thomas's lawyer.
There was an address, a proposed meeting time, and a list of documents Thomas claimed he could provide.
At the bottom was one additional note.
Tell Mark to bring a photograph of his wife's original signature. He will understand when he sees the handwriting.
Dad stared at the message.
Then he opened a drawer in Hannah's dining room, took out his wallet, and removed a small photograph of my mother.
He turned it over.
On the back, she'd written three words in blue ink.
Trust no one.
Dad's face went pale.
May you like
Because the handwriting wasn't my mother's.
It was Celia's.
