Chapter 8: My Father's Dead Brother Called From the Dark
Dad couldn't speak.
He stood in the conservatory with the phone pressed against his ear, staring at the brass music box as if the voice coming through the speaker had physically opened the door to his past.
Martin signaled for the police officer to approach.
I moved closer to Dad.
The caller spoke again.
“Still surrounded by people who tell you what you want to hear, Richard?””
Dad swallowed.
“Who is this?””
A quiet chuckle.
“After all these years, you really need to ask?””
“Thomas is dead.””
“That's what they told you.””
Dad closed his eyes.
“Where are you?””
“Somewhere you should have looked a long time ago.””
The call crackled.
Dad gripped the phone tighter.
“Did you arrange for someone to break into my house?””
“No.””
“Did you send Daniel Cross?””
“No.””
“Then tell me why my wife is dead, my son is receiving threats, and someone is stealing documents from my safe!””
The voice grew colder.
“Your wife was not my doing.””
“Then whose?””
A pause.
“You're asking the wrong question.””
Dad's jaw tightened.
“I'm done with riddles.””
“Then listen carefully. The people who moved the money don't care about you, Richard. They care about what Elaine found. If that recording reaches the police, several powerful people will lose everything.””
“Who are they?””
“Look at the original incorporation documents for Hayes Development. Not the copies your attorneys have. The originals.””
Dad's face went pale.
“Where are they?””
“Your father hid them before he died.””
“Where?””
The caller sighed.
“You still haven't learned to look beyond the obvious.””
Then the line went dead.
Dad lowered the phone.
For several seconds, the only sound was the music box playing its delicate melody.
The police officer stepped closer.
“Mr. Hayes, we need the number and the time of the call. If the call was routed through a service, we may be able to establish where it originated.””
Dad handed him the phone.
“Do whatever you need to do.””
Martin examined the note I'd found.
“Ask who identified Thomas.””
He looked at Dad.
“You said you identified your brother's body.””
“Yes.””
“Were you alone?””
Dad frowned.
“No. There were police officers, a funeral director, and two representatives from the family business.””
“Did you see his face?””
Dad went silent.
I stared at him.
“Dad?””
He rubbed his forehead.
“The accident happened at night. The car caught fire. The coroner said the identification was based on dental records and personal effects.””
“Then how did you identify him?””
“I was told the records matched.””
“By whom?””
Dad looked toward Martin.
“I don't remember.””
Martin's expression became grave.
“Richard, if someone manipulated the identification process, we need to establish that. We cannot assume the caller is telling the truth, but we cannot dismiss it either.””
Dad sat on the conservatory bench.
“I buried my brother.””
His voice sounded hollow.
“I stood beside his coffin. I watched them lower it into the ground. My father died six months later, and I took over the company because Thomas was gone.””
He looked up at me.
“Everything I've built since then has been based on the belief that I was the only surviving son.””
I sat beside him.
“What happens if he isn't dead?””
Dad stared at the music box.
“Then someone has been lying to me for eleven years.””
Martin's phone rang.
He answered, listened, and then walked toward the glass doors to speak privately with the police.
I stayed with Dad.
For the first time that afternoon, he looked less like a wealthy businessman than a man who had discovered that the foundation beneath his entire life might be rotten.
“James,” he said quietly, “I owe you an apology.””
I looked at him.
“For what?””
“For every time Victoria told me you were being difficult and I believed her. For every time you tried to tell me something was wrong and I told you to be patient. For treating your questions as a problem instead of listening to what you were actually saying.””
My throat tightened.
“I just wanted you to believe me.””
“I know.””
He looked at my cheek, where the red mark from Victoria's slap had begun to fade.
“I should have protected you.””
I stared at my hands.
“I don't want you to say that because you're scared.””
“I'm saying it because it's true.””
For a moment, I wanted to lean against him the way I used to when I was little.
Instead, I asked the question that had been burning inside me.
“Do you think Mom knew someone was going to hurt her?””
Dad looked toward the windows.
“I think she knew she was in danger. I don't know whether she understood how serious it was.””
“And you didn't know?””
“No.””
I studied his face.
I believed that he hadn't known about the powder in his juice. I believed he'd been shocked by the video.
But the rest of the story was still unfinished.
Someone had forged his signature.
Someone had used a dead man's name.
Someone had stolen documents from a safe that only a few people knew existed.
And my mother had left a warning specifically for me.
I wasn't ready to believe that everything my father said was true just because I wanted it to be.
“Dad,” I said, “if we find out that someone you trusted helped hurt Mom, what will you do?””
He looked directly at me.
“I'll make sure the truth comes out, no matter who it implicates.””
Before I could answer, Martin returned.
“The police have found something.””
He held up a photograph on his phone.
It showed an abandoned vehicle parked beneath a highway overpass several miles from the estate.
The driver's door was open.
A dark jacket lay on the passenger seat.
“The vehicle belongs to Robert Gaines,” Martin explained.
“Officers found his phone inside, but it had been wiped. They also found a security access card registered to the estate.””
“Is Robert alive?”” Dad asked.
“We haven't located him yet.””
“Then keep looking.””
Martin nodded.
“There is another detail. The vehicle was registered to a holding company with an address in Delaware. That company appears in the same financial records your wife was investigating.””
Dad stood.
“Northstar.””
“Yes.””
I looked at the photograph.
“Does that mean Robert was working for them?””
“It means his vehicle was connected to a company involved in the transactions,” Martin said.
“We need more evidence before we can establish his role.””
Dad paced across the conservatory.
“Everyone I trusted is connected to this.””
“Not everyone,” Martin replied.
“James brought the recording to you. And the security footage may establish what happened inside the house.””
Dad looked at me.
I felt a strange mixture of pride and dread.
I'd stopped him from drinking the juice, but every answer we'd found had led to another threat.
“What about the recording Mom made?”” I asked.
Martin lifted his phone.
“The police have completed an initial examination of the flash drive. It contains several financial documents and one encrypted audio file.””
My heart raced.
“Can they open it?””
“They're working on it.””
“What's in the financial documents?””
“Copies of account statements, corporate registrations, and correspondence between several individuals. Some of the names match the records we've already discussed.””
“Does it mention Victoria?””
“Yes.””
Dad's face tightened.
“What does it say?””
Martin hesitated.
“One email suggests that Victoria was instructed to obtain Richard's signature on a revised authorization. The message came from an account associated with Northstar.””
Dad stared at him.
“Who sent it?””
“The account was registered under the name Thomas Hayes.””
Silence filled the conservatory.
I felt my stomach twist.
The voice on the phone had sounded like a man who knew my father intimately. The email appeared to come from someone using his brother's name. But none of it proved that Thomas was alive.
Someone could have stolen his identity.
Someone could have studied his voice.
Someone could have spent years constructing a story that would make my father doubt everything he remembered.
“Can we hear the audio file?”” I asked.
Martin shook his head.
“Not yet. The encryption is sophisticated. The police are working with a specialist.””
Dad looked at the music box.
“Elaine knew where the recording was.””
“Maybe,” I said.
“But she also left that note.””
I held up the strip of paper.
“Ask who identified Thomas. What if the answer isn't in the recording? What if Mom wanted us to find the person who signed the identification report?””
Martin nodded slowly.
“That is a reasonable lead.””
He turned toward Dad.
“Do you still have the documents from your brother's accident?””
“I believe they're in the corporate archive.””
“Then we need to retrieve them.””
Dad reached for his jacket.
“We'll go now.””
“No,” Martin replied firmly.
“The police should secure the archive first. If someone has access to your accounts and the estate, we don't know whether the documents are still there.””
Dad stopped.
For once, he didn't argue.
The officer approached with another update.
“Mr. Hayes, the laboratory has identified the substance recovered from the pitcher as a sedative compound. We are still waiting on the full toxicology report, and we cannot yet establish what dose was present or what effect it would have had.””
Dad closed his eyes.
I thought about the glass he'd nearly lifted to his lips.
The shattered pieces on the stone floor.
The way Victoria had slapped me before I could show him the video.
If I had arrived ten seconds later, he might have swallowed the drink.
I couldn't stop imagining what would have happened if I hadn't been there.
The officer continued.
“We also found a message on Mrs. Hayes's phone indicating that someone expected Mr. Hayes to become unavailable this evening. We are examining the message and its source.””
Dad turned sharply.
“Unavailable?””
The officer nodded.
“The wording is ambiguous. It could refer to a business meeting, travel, or something else. We won't speculate until we have more context.””
Victoria had wanted Dad to drink that juice.
Someone had expected him to become unavailable.
And someone had been preparing to access his private safe.
The pieces were starting to form a picture, but I still couldn't see the whole thing.
Then Martin's phone chimed.
He looked at the screen and went completely still.
“What is it?”” Dad demanded.
Martin slowly turned the phone toward us.
The message contained an audio attachment.
The sender was an unregistered number.
There was no text except one sentence.
*ELAINE WANTED YOU TO HEAR THIS BEFORE YOU TRUST YOUR BROTHER AGAIN.*
Martin glanced at the officer.
“We need to preserve this properly.””
Dad stared at the attachment.
“Can we listen to it?””
The officer nodded cautiously.
“We can play it while preserving the original message and documenting the process.””
Martin pressed the screen.
Static filled the room.
Then a woman's voice emerged.
My mother's voice.
I knew it immediately.
She sounded frightened, but determined.
“If you're hearing this, Richard, then something has happened to me, and I need you to understand that the man you buried was not the man you thought he was.””
Dad staggered backward.
My mother's voice continued.
“I found the identification report. I found the original signature. And I know who stood beside you at Thomas's funeral.””
A sharp noise interrupted the recording.
Then my mother whispered a name.
“Richard, it was—”
The audio cut off.
Dad stared at the phone.
“Play it again.””
Martin did.
The same words.
The same interruption.
The same missing name.
I looked at my father.
“Who stood beside you at Uncle Thomas's funeral?””
Dad's lips parted.
Then he whispered, “My father.””
I frowned.
“Grandfather?””
Dad nodded.
“He died six months after Thomas. But he was there when the body was identified.””
Martin slowly lowered the phone.
“Then we need to examine the original identification report and determine whether your father's signature appears on it.””
Dad looked toward the conservatory doors.
His hands were shaking.
“My father told me he saw Thomas's body.””
“Did he sign the report?”” I asked.
Dad couldn't answer.
Before anyone could speak again, another message appeared on Martin's phone.
This one contained a photograph of an old document.
At the bottom was a signature.
*WILLIAM HAYES.*
My grandfather.
Beside the signature was a handwritten note.
*IDENTITY CONFIRMED BY FAMILY.*
And beneath it, in smaller letters, was a date.
The date of Thomas's funeral.
But the signature wasn't what made Martin's face go pale.
It was the name written in the space reserved for the second witness.
*RICHARD HAYES.*
May you like
My father stared at it.
Then he whispered, “I never signed that.””
