Chapter 7: The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
For several seconds after Michael delivered the news, nobody spoke.
Dr. Samuel Whitmore was dead.
The man whose signature appeared on my mother's medical records, whose authorization had supposedly allowed Renata to access confidential files, and whose voice might have identified the person responsible for my mother's death had been killed less than an hour after we discovered the recording.
Dad reached for the table to steady himself.
"How?"" he asked.
Michael glanced at his phone.
"The police haven't released the details. They found him at his home. His housekeeper called emergency services after discovering him in his study.""
"Was it natural causes?""
"I don't know.""
"Then don't tell me he's dead as if that explains anything.""
Michael lowered his eyes.
"Daniel, I understand how this looks.""
"No, Michael. You don't.""
Dad pointed toward the cassette player.
"Someone altered my wife's medical records. Someone forged my signature. Someone tried to steal my daughter's inheritance. Now the doctor who signed the records is dead, and you want me to sit here while everyone waits for an official statement?""
Michael said nothing.
Renata had moved away from the filing cabinet. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her body, and she kept staring at the door.
I watched her carefully.
She looked frightened.
But I'd seen her frightened before, and fear had never stopped her from protecting herself.
"Do you know who killed him?"" I asked.
She shook her head.
"Don't lie to me.""
"I'm not.""
"Then why did you recognize the voice on the tape?""
Renata looked at Dad.
He stepped between us.
"Answer her.""
She pressed her lips together.
"I recognized the voice because I've heard it before.""
"Whose voice was it?""
"I can't tell you.""
"Can't or won't?""
Her eyes flashed.
"You think this is easy for me?""
"No," I said.
"I think you've spent three years making my life miserable because you believed nobody could touch you. Now someone has died, and suddenly you're scared enough to tell the truth.""
Renata recoiled as though I'd struck her.
For a moment, I thought she might slap me.
Instead, she sat down heavily in the nearest chair.
"The man on the recording was your mother's older brother," she whispered.
Dad stared at her.
"That's impossible.""
I looked between them.
"My mother had a brother?""
Dad shook his head slowly.
"She told me she had no surviving siblings.""
"She lied," Renata said.
"Why would she lie about something like that?""
"Because he was dangerous.""
Renata looked down at her hands.
"His name was Thomas Vale. He was supposed to have died in a boating accident when your mother was twenty-two. The family held a memorial service.
His estate was settled. Everyone believed he was gone.""
"But he wasn't," I said.
"No.""
Dad gripped the back of a chair.
"How do you know?""
"Because I met him.""
"When?""
"Before I married you.""
Renata finally looked up.
"Thomas approached me at a charity event. He knew I worked in financial administration. He told me he had been living under another name for years and that he wanted access to the family trust.""
Michael leaned forward.
"And you helped him?""
"At first, I thought he was lying. Then he showed me documents. Letters from your wife's family.
Photographs. Things no stranger could have possessed.""
"What did he want?"" I asked.
Renata's voice dropped.
"Control of the trust.""
Dad let out a humorless laugh.
"Of course.""
"He told me your mother had stolen what belonged to him. He said the trust had been established using money that should have passed to him after their father's death.""
"Was that true?""
"I don't know.""
"You're lying again," Dad said.
Renata looked at him with sudden desperation.
"I'm telling you what I know. Thomas said your wife had hidden assets and forged documents to keep him from inheriting. He claimed he had proof.""
"And you believed him?""
"I wanted to.""
The admission was so quiet that I almost missed it.
"Why?"" I asked.
Renata looked at me.
"Because he offered me a share of the money if I helped him regain control.""
There it was.
Not love.
Not loyalty.
Greed.
For three years, Renata had treated our home like a kingdom she intended to inherit. She had measured every gift Dad gave me as though it were money taken from her pocket. She had watched me grow up with a resentment so constant that it had become part of the house itself.
And now I understood why she'd been so determined to make me feel small.
She hadn't simply wanted my father's attention.
She'd wanted what she believed was mine.
Dad's voice was cold.
"Did you know Thomas was involved in your wife's death?""
Renata shook her head.
"No.""
"Did you help him alter her medical records?""
"No.""
"Did you help him obtain the authorization bearing my signature?""
"No!""
The word cracked through the room.
For the first time, Renata sounded genuinely desperate.
"I never wanted anyone to die. I wanted the money. I wanted a life where I didn't have to worry about every dollar, where Blair could have everything she deserved.""
Blair stared at her mother.
"Everything I deserved?""
Renata turned toward her.
"Yes.""
"You told me our family had always been cheated. You told me Dad was withholding money that belonged to us.""
"Because he was!""
"No," Blair whispered.
"You told me I had to make Evelyn miserable so she'd stop asking for things. You said if Dad thought she was difficult, he'd finally see that she wasn't worth protecting.""
Renata's face hardened.
"I was trying to secure your future.""
"You made me hate my own stepsister.""
"You were supposed to be loyal to me.""
Blair's eyes filled.
"I was your daughter. I was supposed to be able to trust you.""
Renata looked away.
I should have felt satisfaction.
Instead, I felt a strange, hollow sadness.
Blair had helped destroy my dress. She had laughed when I begged for it back. Nothing she said could undo that.
But now I could see the same fear I'd lived with reflected in her face.
We had both been manipulated by the same woman in different ways.
Dad turned to Michael.
"We need to contact the police. Tell them everything Renata has admitted.""
Renata shot to her feet.
"No!""
Dad didn't even look at her.
"Michael, make the call.""
"Daniel, wait."" Renata moved toward him.
"If you tell them about Thomas, they'll come after everyone connected to him. They won't care that I didn't know what he was planning.""
"You should have thought about that before you helped him.""
"I never gave him the medication!""
The room went silent.
My heart began pounding.
Dad turned slowly.
"What did you just say?""
Renata froze.
I stepped toward her.
"You know what happened to my mother.""
"No.""
"You said you never gave him the medication.""
"I meant—"
"You just admitted you knew medication was involved.""
She looked at Michael, then at the guards, searching for someone who might help her.
Nobody moved.
Finally, she sank into the chair again.
"Thomas told me your mother had been taking something that made her confused," she whispered.
"He said the medication was prescribed legally, but he believed it affected her judgment. He claimed she was planning to have him arrested.""
"And you believed him?""
"He showed me a letter.""
"What letter?""
"One supposedly written by your mother. It said she intended to expose him and make sure he never received a cent from the estate.""
Dad's expression darkened.
"So you helped him.""
"I helped him locate the medical records. That's all.""
"How?""
"I gave him information about the hospital and the trust. I didn't know he intended to hurt her.""
Michael stepped closer.
"Did you provide him with access to her medication?""
Renata shook her head.
"Did you know someone had altered the prescription?""
"No.""
"Did you ever see Thomas after the accident?""
She hesitated.
Dad leaned forward.
"Answer him.""
"Yes.""
"When?""
"Six months after your wife died.""
"Where?""
"At a hotel in Portland.""
Dad's face became expressionless.
"What did he tell you?""
Renata swallowed.
"He told me your wife had left a second letter. He said it contained instructions for accessing a hidden account.""
I thought of the letter in the safety deposit box.
The one that warned me not to trust anyone who claimed my inheritance belonged to them.
"What happened to the letter?"" I asked.
"Thomas kept it.""
"Where is he now?""
Renata looked at me.
"I don't know.""
"Then how do you know he's still alive?""
She hesitated too long.
Dad noticed.
"Renata.""
She closed her eyes.
"Because he called me this afternoon.""
My skin went cold.
"What did he say?""
"He told me to make sure the safety deposit box was opened before midnight. He said the documents inside could destroy everything.""
Michael immediately checked his watch.
"We need to get that recording and the original documents secured.""
He gathered the medical report and the letter, placing them in a protective folder.
But I couldn't stop thinking about what Renata had said.
Thomas had called her that afternoon.
Before she destroyed my dress.
Before Dad discovered the forged documents.
Before we'd even found the key.
I pulled out my phone.
The unknown number had sent me the photograph, the warning about the medical records, and the message about my father's house.
I opened the conversation and typed a question.
Who are you?
The reply arrived almost immediately.
*Someone your mother trusted.*
I typed again.
Is Thomas Vale alive?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then the answer came.
*Yes. And he's closer than you think.*
I looked up.
Through the glass wall of the conference room, a man stood in the bank's lobby.
He wore a dark coat and held a black umbrella, despite the fact that he was already indoors.
His face was turned toward us.
Even from a distance, I recognized the shape of his jaw from the old photograph in the safety deposit box.
The same man who had stood behind my mother beside the black car.
The man on the recording.
I grabbed Dad's arm.
"That's him.""
Dad turned.
The man smiled.
Then he lifted one hand and pressed it against the glass.
A bank alarm sounded again.
The lights flickered.
And by the time the guards reached the lobby, the man had vanished.
Only his umbrella remained on the floor.
Beside it lay a small white envelope.
May you like
On the front, written in my mother's unmistakable handwriting, were four words.
*For Evelyn. Read alone.*
