Chapter 3: The Man Who Claimed to Be My Father
At 8:17 the following morning, someone knocked on my hotel room door.
I hadn't slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my father's handwriting. I heard Vanessa telling me that I was nothing without her. I remembered the stranger in the corridor who had looked at me as if he'd been waiting seventeen years to see my face.
Thomas had arranged a room at a hotel near the competition venue while the security team reviewed the previous day's footage.
He had also insisted that I not return to Vanessa's house alone.
So when the knock came, I checked the peephole.
A woman stood outside wearing a navy coat.
She held up an identification card.
“Miss Carter? My name is Detective Rachel Morgan. I'd like to speak with you about the letter you received.””
I opened the door but kept the chain attached.
“Is Thomas Reed with you?””
“He's downstairs speaking with another officer.””
I hesitated.
The detective noticed.
“You've had a difficult twenty-four hours,” she said gently.
“I'm not asking you to trust me immediately. But there are some things we need to establish before you go anywhere.””
I unfastened the chain.
She entered and placed a folder on the desk.
“First, did anyone contact you before yesterday about your father's disappearance?””
“No.””
“Did your stepmother ever tell you that your father had been involved in a financial dispute?””
“No. She said he died in an accident.””
“Did you ever see his body?””
I stared at her.
“No.””
She made a note.
“Were you shown photographs from the accident?””
“No.””
“Did anyone explain why there was no public funeral?””
My throat tightened.
“There was a funeral.””
“Was the casket open?””
I shook my head.
The detective set down her pen.
“I'm sorry, Nia.””
I looked at the window.
Outside, traffic crawled along the wet streets. A delivery truck stopped beside the hotel entrance. Somewhere below, someone laughed.
Ordinary life continued while mine came apart.
“What happens now?”” I asked.
“We verify the documents, locate the people involved, and determine whether a crime occurred.””
“And my father?””
Her expression softened.
“We try to establish what happened to him.””
I turned toward her.
“What if he's alive?””
“Then we'll need to understand why he stayed away.””
That answer hurt more than I expected.
If my father was alive, why hadn't he come for me?
Why had I spent years crying into his old shirts, believing I would never hear his voice again?
Why had I learned to live with Vanessa's cruelty when there might have been someone somewhere who could have taken me away?
Detective Morgan seemed to understand the questions I wasn't asking aloud.
“You don't have to decide what you feel about him today,” she said.
“And you don't have to forgive anyone just because they have an explanation.””
I nodded.
Then my phone rang.
The number was blocked.
Detective Morgan gestured for me to answer.
“Hello?””
For several seconds, there was only breathing.
Then a man's voice spoke.
“Nia?””
My entire body went cold.
I knew that voice.
Not from the last time I'd heard it.
From somewhere deeper.
A memory buried beneath years of silence.
“Who is this?””
The man inhaled shakily.
“It's Dad.””
The phone nearly slipped from my hand.
Detective Morgan stood immediately.
I pressed the device to my ear.
“No.””
“Nia, please.””
“No! My father is dead!””
“I know what they told you.””
The words were identical to Thomas's.
I began to shake.
“Then prove it.””
Silence.
Then the man said, “When you were six, you cut your finger trying to make a dress for the stuffed rabbit I brought home from the flea market. You cried because you thought you'd ruined the fabric. I wrapped your finger in a blue bandage, and you told me you were going to make a hundred dresses when you grew up.””
My knees weakened.
No one knew that story.
Not Vanessa.
Not Brianna.
Not even my sewing teacher.
My father had been there.
I remembered the kitchen table, the rabbit with one floppy ear, and the blue bandage wrapped around my tiny finger.
I remembered him kissing my forehead.
“Slow down, little bird,” he'd whispered.
“Beautiful things take patience.””
A sob escaped me.
“Where are you?””
“I can't tell you over the phone.””
“Why not?””
“Because there are people listening.””
I looked at Detective Morgan.
She mouthed, Keep him talking.
“Are you really my father?””
“Yes.””
“Then why didn't you come back?””
The silence that followed was so long I thought he'd hung up.
When he finally spoke, his voice broke.
“Because I was afraid that if I came for you, they would kill you.””
I closed my eyes.
“Who?””
“Victor. And someone you know.””
“Who?””
“Nia, listen to me. The man who's been helping you—”
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
“Hello?””
Nothing.
I called back.
The number was unavailable.
Detective Morgan took the phone from me.
“Did he say where he was?””
“No.””
“Did he identify himself?””
“He said he was my father.””
She exchanged a glance with the officer who had just entered the room.
Then she turned back to me.
“We need to be careful.””
I wiped my face.
“I want to meet him.””
“If that's your father, we'll arrange it safely.””
“No. I want to meet him today.””
“Nia—”
“I've spent eight years believing he was dead. I've spent my whole life believing the people who raised me had the right to decide what I deserved. I am not waiting another day for someone else to tell me what I can know about my own family.””
The detective studied me.
Finally, she nodded.
“Then we do this properly.””
At noon, Thomas arrived with a lawyer named Rebecca Shaw.
Rebecca was in her fifties, with short silver hair and a calm voice. She specialized in inheritance disputes and had worked with Thomas on several cases involving missing assets.
She listened while I described the phone call.
When I finished, she opened her briefcase.
“I've reviewed the documents Thomas recovered,” she said.
“Your father's death certificate contains several irregularities.””
“Such as?””
“The physician listed on the certificate was retired at the time. The case number doesn't match the hospital records. And the signature appears to have been copied from another document.””
I stared at her.
“So it was fake?””
“It may have been fraudulently issued. We need the original records before drawing a conclusion.””
Thomas sat beside the window, his expression troubled.
“There is something else,” he said.
I looked at him.
“What?””
“Your father's letter mentioned original financial records hidden with the silver bird. The pendant specialist has discovered a tiny compartment inside the clasp.””
He placed a sealed evidence bag on the table.
Inside was a rolled strip of paper, no larger than a grain of rice.
My heart hammered.
“What's on it?””
“We haven't examined it fully. But the specialist believes it contains a sequence of numbers and a partial bank reference.””
Rebecca leaned forward.
“If this is authentic, it may lead us to the records your father hid.””
“Then find them.””
“We will,” she said.
“But I want you to understand that the information could be dangerous.””
I laughed without humor.
“My stepmother destroyed my trophy yesterday. I learned this morning that my father might be alive. I think dangerous has already found me.””
Thomas looked down.
For the first time, he seemed ashamed.
“I should have found you sooner.””
I turned toward him.
“Why didn't you?””
He didn't try to excuse himself.
“Because I trusted the wrong people. And because every lead we followed ended with someone telling us your father was dead.””
“Did you believe them?””
“Not entirely.””
“Then why stop looking?””
He met my eyes.
“I didn't stop.””
His voice was quiet.
“But I failed to find you.””
I wanted to hate him.
It would have been easier.
Instead, I saw a man who had carried seventeen years of unanswered questions and still looked as though he was afraid of losing something he had only just found.
Before I could respond, Rebecca's phone rang.
She listened for several seconds.
Then she stood.
“What is it?”” Thomas asked.
Rebecca covered the microphone.
“The address on the letter. The building is a private storage facility. One of the units was rented under Daniel Carter's name three months ago.””
My breath caught.
“My father rented it?””
“Apparently.””
Thomas rose.
“Then we need to go there.””
Detective Morgan, who had been standing near the door, shook her head.
“Not without authorization. We don't know what's inside, and we don't know who else has access.””
Rebecca nodded.
“I can contact the facility and preserve the records while you obtain the necessary paperwork.””
I looked between them.
“What if someone gets there first?””
No one answered.
That was when Thomas's phone vibrated.
He read the message.
His face changed.
“What's wrong?”” I asked.
He turned the screen toward Rebecca.
A photograph showed the storage facility's entrance.
A black sedan was parked beside the gate.
The man standing next to it wore a dark coat and sunglasses.
I recognized him from Vanessa's wedding photographs.
Victor Hayes.
Brianna's supposedly dead father.
Thomas immediately called Detective Morgan.
But before she could respond, my phone rang again.
The same blocked number.
I answered.
“Dad?””
A strained breath came through the speaker.
“Nia, don't go to the storage facility.””
“Why?””
“Because Victor is already there.””
“I know. We have a photograph.””
A sharp noise sounded at his end of the line.
Then he whispered, “You don't understand. He's not looking for the records.””
My stomach tightened.
“Then what does he want?””
“He's looking for the person who has them.””
I looked at Thomas.
His face had gone pale.
“Who has them?”” I asked.
My father's answer came in a whisper.
“Thomas Reed.””
I stared at the man who had spent the previous day helping me.
Thomas slowly lowered his phone.
He looked at me with an expression I couldn't read.
Then he said, “Nia, there's something I should have told you before we met.””
The room seemed to shrink around us.
“What?””
Thomas reached into his briefcase and removed a photograph.
It showed my father standing beside him outside the same brick building I'd seen the day before.
But this time, someone had written a message across the bottom in red ink.
*ONE OF THESE MEN BETRAYED YOUR FATHER.*
And beneath the message were two names.
May you like
Daniel Carter.
Thomas Reed.
