Chapter 4: The Voice That Shouldn't Exist
For eleven years, I had visited my father's grave every November.
I had stood beneath gray skies, placed flowers against cold marble, and told a dead man about the things he would never see. My first million-dollar contract. My mother's retirement. The woman I thought I would marry.
Now, standing in a hotel corridor with my wedding suit wrinkled and my bride trembling beside me, I was being told that the man I had buried might still be alive.
"Brianna, sweetheart," the woman on the phone repeated.
"Can you hear me?""
Brianna stared at the screen.
Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
Then she whispered, "Mom?""
Richard Whitmore lunged for the phone.
"Give me that!""
Brianna jerked backward, clutching it against her chest.
"No!""
It was the first time I'd heard her refuse her father without immediately looking afraid of the consequences.
Richard stopped.
For a brief second, his face revealed something beneath the polished businessman, beneath the expensive suits and carefully rehearsed charm.
Panic.
"End the call, Brianna," he ordered.
The woman on the phone gasped.
"Don't listen to him.""
Brianna began to cry.
"Where are you? Mom, where have you been?""
"I can't explain everything right now, darling. I have very little time.""
"Eleven years!"" Brianna screamed.
"I've spent eleven years believing you were dead!""
"I know.""
"You let me bury you!""
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Then the woman spoke again.
"I never wanted you to suffer.""
Brianna laughed through her tears.
"You didn't want me to suffer? You let me grow up believing my mother was dead!""
"I was trying to protect you.""
"From what?""
A sharp noise sounded through the phone.
The woman inhaled sharply.
"From your father.""
Richard stepped forward.
"That's enough.""
My uncle Marcus blocked his path.
"You take one more step toward her, and we're going to have a very different conversation.""
Richard looked at Marcus with open contempt.
"You have no idea what you're interfering with.""
"I know a frightened man when I see one.""
The woman on the phone spoke urgently.
"Brianna, listen to me. You must find Daniel Cole. He has the original records, and he knows what happened to James.""
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"Ma'am," I said, moving closer to the phone.
"This is Jalen Hayes.""
The woman fell silent.
When she spoke again, her voice had changed.
"Oh, my goodness.""
"Did you know my father?""
"Yes.""
"Is he alive?""
She drew a shaky breath.
"I believe he is.""
"Where is he?""
"I don't know his exact location. The last person who claimed to have seen him was Daniel Cole. But Jalen, you must understand something. Your father didn't disappear because he wanted to abandon his family.""
I looked at my mother.
Dorothy stood against the wall, one hand covering her mouth. She had spent eleven years believing she was a widow. Now she was listening to a stranger suggest that her husband might have been alive all along.
"Who are you?"" I asked.
The woman hesitated.
"I'm Evelyn Whitmore. Brianna's mother.""
Richard suddenly shoved Marcus aside.
"Give me the phone!""
This time, I stepped between him and Brianna.
"Touch her, and you'll have to go through me.""
He stared at me.
"You think you're a hero because you've discovered a few old photographs?""
"No. I think you're terrified because your daughter has heard her mother's voice.""
His face darkened.
"Your father was a criminal, Jalen. He stole from people who trusted him. He destroyed lives. If he is alive, it's because he knows what will happen when the truth comes out.""
"Then you won't mind telling us what the truth is.""
Richard's mouth tightened.
"I won't discuss this in a hotel corridor.""
"Convenient.""
He turned toward the guards.
"Get these people out of my way.""
Neither guard moved.
Perhaps it was the cameras. Perhaps it was the crowd gathering near the ballroom doors. Or perhaps they had finally realized that their employer was no longer the most powerful person in the room.
Brianna lifted the phone again.
"Mom, where are you?""
"I can't tell you that yet.""
"Why not?""
"Because Richard has people everywhere.""
Richard's expression hardened.
Evelyn continued.
"There's something you need to know about the night I disappeared. I wasn't the only person who was supposed to die.""
My knees nearly buckled.
"Who else?"" I asked.
"James Hayes.""
Dorothy made a small, broken sound.
Evelyn's voice grew weaker.
"Richard arranged everything. He had the police report changed, the medical records altered, and the witnesses paid. He believed James was dead.
He believed I was dead. But someone made a mistake.""
"What mistake?"" I demanded.
A faint electronic beep sounded through the phone.
Evelyn gasped.
"They've found the connection.""
"Who has?""
"I have to go.""
"No!"" Brianna cried.
"You can't disappear again!""
"Sweetheart, I love you.""
"Then tell me where you are!""
"I will. But first, you need to find the blue ledger.""
Richard went rigid.
I noticed.
So did my mother.
Evelyn continued.
"It's in the place where James hid the original confession. Daniel knows where to look. The ledger will prove that Richard stole the money, framed James, and used our family's names to conceal the transfers.""
"Mom, wait!""
"And Brianna?""
"Yes?""
"Your father has lied to you about the day I died. He told you James caused the accident.""
Brianna pressed the phone against her ear.
"Yes.""
"That wasn't true.""
A burst of static swallowed the next words.
Then the call ended.
For a moment, all I could hear was Brianna's uneven breathing.
She stared at the phone as though it had become a doorway that had suddenly slammed shut.
Then she looked at Richard.
"You told me James Hayes killed my mother.""
Richard said nothing.
"You told me he was a thief. You said he ran away after the accident.""
"Brianna, you're upset.""
"Answer me!""
Her scream echoed down the corridor.
Richard straightened his jacket.
"Your mother has been mentally unwell for years. You cannot believe everything she says.""
Brianna recoiled as though he had struck her.
"She sounded perfectly sane.""
"People can sound convincing when they're desperate.""
"Then why are you afraid of the blue ledger?""
Richard's silence answered her.
I felt my anger sharpen.
"What is the blue ledger?""
He looked at me.
"An old accounting book that no longer exists.""
"Your face suggests otherwise.""
"It contains incomplete records, distorted figures, and the delusions of a disgruntled employee.""
"Then why would it matter?""
Richard's eyes narrowed.
"Because men like your father never understood that business requires compromise.""
Dorothy stepped away from the wall.
"My husband was a better man than you will ever be.""
Richard turned toward her.
"Your husband signed the confession.""
"Because you threatened his family.""
"He signed it voluntarily.""
"Then why did you need him to disappear?""
For the first time, Richard had no immediate answer.
My mother took a step closer.
"Why did you let me bury an empty coffin?""
The question struck him harder than any accusation I'd made.
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said, "Because you were never supposed to know.""
Dorothy slapped her hand against her chest.
"Oh, God.""
I caught her before her knees gave way.
"Mom?""
She clutched my jacket.
"Your father told me he was going away for a few days," she whispered.
"He said he had to settle something. He kissed me at the door, and he promised he'd be home for dinner.""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"He never came home.""
I held her while eleven years of grief seemed to collapse into a single moment.
Richard looked away.
And that was when I understood the cruelty of what he had done.
He hadn't merely taken money or destroyed a business.
He had allowed a woman to mourn her husband for more than a decade while possibly keeping him alive somewhere beyond her reach.
He had let a son grow up without his father.
He had made two families bury people who might never have been dead.
"You're going to tell us everything," I said.
Richard gave a humorless laugh.
"You think you can force me?""
"No. But the police are on their way, your daughter has just heard from the woman you claimed was dead, and two hundred wedding guests have recorded what happened today.""
I took out my phone.
"I also have the photograph of my father in that hospital bed.""
Richard's gaze flicked toward it.
"That photograph proves nothing.""
"Then explain why you tried to take it.""
He stared at me.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
It was a terrible expression.
"You still don't understand, do you?""
"Understand what?""
"Your father wasn't the only man who disappeared that night.""
He turned toward Brianna.
"Ask your mother what happened to Daniel Cole's wife.""
Before any of us could respond, a woman's scream came from the hotel lobby.
A second later, a uniformed police officer appeared at the end of the corridor.
"Nobody move!""
Behind him stood a man in a dark suit, holding a warrant.
Richard exhaled as if someone had finally arrived to rescue him.
The officer approached us.
"Which one of you is Dorothy Hayes?""
My mother straightened.
"I am.""
"Ma'am, you're being detained in connection with an alleged assault and theft of confidential property.""
I stepped forward.
"This is absurd. We have evidence that—"
"Sir, step back.""
"She was the one who was assaulted!""
The officer looked at my mother's cheek.
For a moment, uncertainty crossed his face.
Then Richard spoke calmly.
"I understand this is upsetting, Officer. My daughter was attacked at her wedding, and the documents in question belong to my company.""
Brianna turned toward him.
"You're lying!""
The officer raised his hand.
"Everyone needs to remain calm.""
I reached for my mother's hand.
She squeezed mine.
"Don't let them take the letter," she whispered.
I looked down.
The second envelope was still tucked inside my jacket.
Then my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
One message.
Jalen, this is Daniel Cole. Do not let the police take your mother to Central Station. The detective assigned to the case works for Richard.
I looked up at the officer.
He was already reaching for my mother's wrist.
And when I saw the name printed on his badge, my blood ran cold.
It was the same name written beneath the photograph of my father in the hospital.
May you like
Detective Andrew Mercer.
The man who had signed the report declaring James Hayes dead.
