Chapter 8: The Person Who Made the Call
Dad drove straight to Helen's office.
He told me he would be back within two hours, but this time, he didn't promise that everything would be fine.
He only kissed my forehead and said, "I'll tell you the truth as soon as I know it.""
I watched his car disappear down the street.
Then I sat beside Grandma at the kitchen table and tried to understand what we had learned.
Vanessa had hurt me.
She had lied to Dad.
She had apparently handled suspicious payments connected to the company.
But if she hadn't arranged the original call to my mother, who had?
Grandma seemed to be thinking the same thing.
"Your father has trusted the wrong people before," she said quietly.
"I hope he doesn't make the mistake of trusting another one too quickly.""
"Do you think Vanessa was protecting someone?""
Grandma looked toward the window.
"I think she was afraid of something. Whether she was protecting someone else or herself, I can't say.""
At 2:41 p.m., Dad returned.
He didn't remove his coat.
He didn't sit down.
He walked straight to the kitchen and placed a thick folder on the table.
"The accountant's name is Patricia Webb," he said.
"She worked for Richard for eleven years. She kept copies of certain transactions because she suspected something was wrong.""
"Did she say who made the call?"" Grandma asked.
Dad nodded.
"She identified a person who had access to the house phone, the company records, and the documents connected to Elizabeth's death.""
He opened the folder.
Inside were photocopies of financial statements, telephone records, and an old photograph of our house.
I recognized the front entrance.
But the photograph had been taken years before Vanessa married Dad.
A man stood beside the doorway.
My father stared at the image.
Then he turned it around.
On the back, someone had written:
The person who arranged the meeting was already inside the house.
Grandma's hand flew to her mouth.
"Who took this?""
"Patricia doesn't know. It was among the records Richard kept in a locked cabinet.""
Dad placed another photograph beside it.
This one showed a younger Richard standing with Vanessa outside a restaurant.
They appeared to be arguing.
A date was printed on the back.
It was from four months before my mother died.
Grandma stared at it.
"Vanessa knew Richard before Elizabeth's accident?""
Dad nodded.
"Apparently.""
I felt something cold settle in my stomach.
"Then why did she tell you they barely knew each other?""
Dad looked at me.
"Because she was lying about their relationship.""
He sat down heavily.
"Patricia says Vanessa was already involved in Westbridge Advisory before she met me. Richard introduced her to several people in the company, and she helped coordinate payments to accounts that couldn't be traced to legitimate suppliers.""
"Did she know about the stolen money?"" Grandma asked.
"According to Patricia, yes.""
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"But Patricia also says Vanessa became frightened when Elizabeth began asking questions.""
"Why?""
"Because Elizabeth had discovered that the money was being transferred through a series of shell companies. If she exposed the arrangement, everyone involved could face serious consequences.""
I looked at the folder.
"Did Vanessa call Mommy?""
Dad shook his head.
"Patricia believes the call was made from the house phone, but she can't identify who picked up the receiver.""
"Could the police find out?""
"They're reviewing the old records. The surviving telephone logs may tell us when the call was placed, but they can't identify the person who physically made it.""
Grandma folded her hands.
"Then we're still guessing.""
"Yes," Dad admitted.
"But we have enough evidence to justify a full investigation into the financial fraud and the circumstances surrounding Elizabeth's death.""
He looked at me.
"And we have something else.""
He removed a small audio recorder from the folder.
"Patricia recorded a conversation with Richard three weeks ago. She says it may explain why Vanessa has been so desperate to find the locker.""
He pressed play.
A man's voice filled the kitchen.
Richard.
I recognized him from old photographs Dad kept in his study.
"You were supposed to destroy the records," Richard said.
A woman's voice answered.
"I tried. Elizabeth had already made copies.""
"Then find them.""
"I did. The storage company refused to release the unit.""
"Because you didn't have the right paperwork.""
"I told you that!""
"Lower your voice, Vanessa.""
There was a pause.
Then Richard spoke again.
"If Daniel finds those documents, everything we did will come apart.""
Vanessa sounded close to tears.
"You said nobody would ever connect the transfers to us.""
"Nobody will if you stop making mistakes.""
"And the phone call?""
Silence.
Then Richard answered.
"That was supposed to scare her. Nothing more.""
Vanessa's voice dropped to a whisper.
"She died, Richard.""
"And you think I don't know that?""
The recording ended.
Nobody moved.
Grandma began to cry.
Dad stared at the recorder.
The conversation didn't establish exactly who had made the call, but it proved that Richard and Vanessa had discussed it afterward—and that both knew the records might expose them.
Dad stood.
"Send this to the investigators," he said.
"I want it preserved exactly as received.""
Helen had already arranged for the recording to be authenticated, and Dad was determined not to let anyone interfere with the investigation.
But before he could leave the kitchen, another message arrived.
It was from an unknown number.
You have the wrong person.
Dad read it twice.
A second message followed.
Richard is dangerous, but Vanessa isn't the one you should be afraid of.
He looked at the screen.
Then he showed it to Helen, who had joined us by video call.
"Could this be Michael?"" Dad asked.
"Possibly. We can't know from the message alone.""
Dad typed a response.
Who is this?
The reply arrived almost immediately.
Someone who knows what happened to Elizabeth.
Dad's hands tightened around the phone.
Tell me the truth.
This time, the answer took several minutes.
Then the screen lit up.
The call came from your house. But the person who made it wasn't Vanessa.
Dad stared at the message.
Grandma whispered, "Who was it?""
Another message arrived.
Ask your father what happened the night Elizabeth died.
Dad went completely still.
I looked at him.
"Daddy?""
He didn't answer.
For the first time since this investigation began, he looked afraid in a way that had nothing to do with Vanessa or Richard.
He looked like a man whose own memories had become unreliable.
Helen's voice came through the speaker.
"Daniel, don't respond yet. We need to establish who sent these messages.""
But Dad was staring at the final sentence.
Ask your father what happened the night Elizabeth died.
He slowly lowered the phone.
"Your grandfather," he whispered.
Grandma looked at him sharply.
"What about your father?""
Dad's face had gone pale.
"My father died six months after Elizabeth. He had been ill for years.""
He stood and walked toward the window.
"The night Elizabeth died, I called him from the hospital. I told him what had happened.""
"What did he say?"" Grandma asked.
Dad swallowed.
"He told me to stop asking questions. He said the accident was tragic, but I had to think about Lily and the company.""
I stared at him.
"Why would Grandpa say that?""
Dad shook his head.
"I don't know.""
He returned to the table and opened the folder again.
Beneath the financial statements was a photocopy of a handwritten letter addressed to Richard.
The signature belonged to my grandfather.
Dad read it silently.
Then he read it again.
His hands began to tremble.
"What does it say?"" Grandma asked.
He passed her the page.
Grandma read it, then covered her mouth.
I looked between them.
"Please tell me.""
Dad sat beside me.
"The letter says my father knew about the transfers before Elizabeth died.""
I frowned.
"Grandpa knew Richard was stealing?""
"Apparently.""
"But why didn't he tell you?""
Dad looked down.
"Because he believed exposing the fraud would destroy the company. He was trying to protect the business and the family name.""
Grandma's voice shook.
"That doesn't explain the call.""
"No," Dad said.
"It doesn't.""
He turned the page over.
At the bottom was a second handwritten note.
If Elizabeth insists on going to the police, someone must stop her before Daniel loses everything.
Dad stared at the words.
"Someone must stop her.""
I reached for his hand.
"Daddy, did Grandpa hurt Mommy?""
He looked at me, and for a moment I thought he might refuse to answer.
Then he shook his head.
"I don't know, sweetheart. And I'm not going to tell you something I can't prove.""
He squeezed my fingers.
"But I promise we will find out.""
Helen called the investigators and arranged to deliver the letter, the recording, and the financial documents for examination.
While she spoke, Dad returned to the photograph of my mother beside the storage facility.
He studied it carefully.
Then he noticed something he hadn't seen before.
The photograph had been taken beside a blue car.
On the windshield was a small parking permit bearing the name of a private medical clinic.
Dad picked up his phone.
"Marcus, I need you to find out whether my father was ever treated at that clinic.""
Marcus agreed to check the surviving records.
Twenty minutes later, he called back.
"Mr. Carter, your father was a patient there for nearly a year before he died.""
Dad closed his eyes.
"Did he have a private nurse?""
"Yes. A woman named Claire Bennett.""
Dad looked at Helen.
"Find her.""
Marcus hesitated.
"Sir, there's something else. Claire Bennett married a man named Richard Hale eight years ago.""
The kitchen fell silent.
Richard had been my father's business partner.
He had been connected to Vanessa.
He had controlled the financial records.
And now we had discovered that the woman who cared for my grandfather had married him.
Dad stared at the phone.
"Where is Claire now?""
"She's living in Dallas. She changed her name after the marriage.""
"What's her current name?""
Marcus took a breath.
"Claire Hale.""
Dad ended the call.
Grandma slowly stood.
"Daniel, if Claire was your father's nurse, she may know what he knew about Elizabeth's death.""
Dad nodded.
"Then I'm going to speak with her.""
But before he could move, another message arrived on his phone.
This one contained a photograph.
It showed an elderly man sitting in a wheelchair beside a window.
Dad stared at the image.
The man wore a silver watch on his wrist.
Michael's watch.
May you like
And beneath the photograph was a sentence that made my father drop the phone.
*"Your brother isn't the only person you believed was dead.""*
