Chapter 8: The Woman Beside His Bed
I stared at the photograph until the edges blurred.
Diane stood behind my mother in a dark dress, her hand resting on the hospital bed rail. She looked composed, almost bored, while Mom leaned over my father's body with her face twisted in grief.
The date was written in blue ink.
October 17, 2015.
The day my father died.
"She told me she was the last person who spoke to him," I whispered.
Daniel took the photograph from me.
"That isn't necessarily the same as being the last person alone with him.""
"She knew what happened. She heard the recording. She knew about the key. And she sold the Mustang to Richard Vale.""
Sarah stepped closer.
"Emily, we need to call the police.""
Daniel nodded.
"We will. But first, I want to know what else is in that box.""
I turned back to the metal container.
The medical report was folded beneath the recorder. Its pages were yellowed, and the hospital's name was stamped across the top.
I recognized it.
It was the same hospital where my father had died.
The report listed the time of death as 9:42 p.m. The cause was recorded as acute myocardial infarction, with no evidence of external trauma.
But there was a handwritten note in the margin.
Patient exhibited bruising to the left wrist. Family notified.
The initials beside the note belonged to a physician named Dr. Samuel Price.
Daniel read it twice.
"Bruising alone doesn't establish foul play. We need the complete medical record and the original examiner's notes.""
"Can we get them?""
"We can try.""
I picked up the digital recorder.
Unlike Thomas's old cassette player, this device was small enough to fit in my palm. A strip of masking tape on the back bore Mom's handwriting.
Last conversation. Do not play until Emily is ready.
My throat tightened.
I pressed the power button.
A low hum filled the room.
Then my father's voice emerged.
"Rebecca, if you ever hear this, I need you to know that I didn't choose this life for us. I thought I could build something good. I thought David and I could work together without money destroying our family.""
A pause.
"I was wrong.""
The recording crackled.
"I've hidden the original documents. The patent agreement, the first prototype drawings, the payment records. Everything. If David gets them, he'll destroy the evidence and make it look as though I stole from him.""
Another pause.
Then my father's voice changed.
"There's something else. I found a second set of records showing payments to someone at the hospital. I don't know why those payments were made, but they began shortly before the business dispute turned violent.""
Daniel leaned closer.
"Payments to whom?""
My father continued.
"If anything happens to me, look at the dates. Don't assume the person who appears to be helping us is on our side.""
The recording ended with a soft click.
I looked at Daniel.
"Someone at the hospital was being paid?""
"That's what the recording suggests. It doesn't tell us who received the money or why. We need the underlying records.""
I examined the documents again.
One envelope contained photocopies of bank transfers from a company associated with David Carter. Several payments had been made to an account identified only by a number.
The dates matched the weeks before my father's death.
One transfer had been made on October 16, 2015.
The day before he died.
The amount was $18,500.
I looked up.
"Daniel, could that account belong to Diane?""
"Possibly. But we cannot establish that from these copies alone.""
I thought of the way she'd held the folder at the house, insisting that my father had been in financial trouble.
She hadn't been trying to explain his death.
She'd been preparing me to believe the wrong story.
I called her.
She answered after the first ring.
"Emily?""
"Why were you at the hospital when Dad died?""
Silence.
Then a shaky breath.
"Where are you?""
"That isn't what I asked.""
"Emily, please. You don't understand what you're dealing with.""
"I found the photograph. You were standing beside his bed. Mom wrote that you were the last person alone with him.""
Diane began crying.
"I didn't hurt your father.""
"Then tell me what happened.""
"I went to the hospital because your mother called me. She was frightened. Michael had been talking about David, and she didn't know who to trust.""
"What did Dad say to you?""
"He asked me to protect you.""
"From David?""
"Yes.""
"Then why did you help Richard Vale buy the Mustang?""
She went silent.
I heard a door close on her end.
"Because Richard told me David was dead," she whispered.
I froze.
"What?""
"He said David had died in an accident overseas. He said the whole business dispute was over and that the Mustang contained documents that could cause problems for everyone if they surfaced.""
"Did you believe him?""
"I wanted to.""
"Why?""
"Because I was afraid.""
I looked at the photograph again.
"Did Dad tell you anything else?""
Diane took a shaky breath.
"He gave me an envelope at the hospital. He said it contained instructions for a safety deposit box. He told me not to open it unless Rebecca was gone and the Mustang had been sold.""
I closed my eyes.
The key.
The letter.
The storage locker.
Everything had been connected from the beginning.
"What was in the envelope?""
"I never opened it.""
"Where is it?""
"I don't have it anymore.""
"Where is it, Diane?""
"I gave it to Richard.""
The words hit me like a physical blow.
"You gave him my father's instructions?""
"He promised me he would leave you alone. He said the documents were worthless without the original prototype.""
"How long ago?""
"Eleven years.""
I couldn't speak.
For eleven years, Diane had known that my father had left something behind. She had kept that knowledge from my mother, from me, and from the attorney who had helped settle the estate.
Then, when the Mustang finally became vulnerable, she sold it to the man who had spent decades trying to obtain its contents.
"Did Richard tell you to forge my signature?""
"No.""
"Did you do it yourself?""
She began sobbing.
"Yes.""
The confession came so quietly that I almost missed it.
I gripped the phone.
"Why?""
"Because he said he would give me the ten thousand dollars after the transfer was completed. He told me the car was worthless and that the documents had already been removed.""
"And you believed him?""
"I needed the money.""
"For what?""
She hesitated.
Then she said, "David.""
I felt the room tilt.
"What about David?""
Diane's voice dropped to a whisper.
"He contacted me three months ago. He said he needed money, and he threatened to tell the police what happened the night Michael died unless I helped him get the Mustang.""
I stared at Daniel.
He had heard every word.
"Where is David now?"" I asked.
"I don't know.""
"Diane, you need to tell me the truth.""
"I am telling you the truth!""
"Then tell me what happened at the hospital.""
She fell silent for so long that I thought she'd hung up.
Finally, she spoke.
"Your father was alive when I left the room.""
My heart hammered.
"What?""
"He was unconscious, but he was alive. The doctors had stabilized him. They said he might survive the night.""
I pressed my free hand against the table.
"Then how did he die?""
"I don't know.""
"You were there.""
"I left to call your mother. When I came back, David was standing in the corridor. He told me Michael had taken a turn for the worse.""
"Did you see him go into the room?""
"No.""
"Did you tell the police?""
"No.""
"Why?""
"Because David told me that if I spoke, he would tell everyone I had been the one who gave him access to the house.""
I closed my eyes.
"Did you?""
Diane began to cry harder.
"Yes.""
The answer came out broken.
"I let him in that night. I thought he wanted to make peace with Michael. I thought they were going to talk.""
I felt sick.
She had opened the door.
She had let my uncle into my father's house.
And then she'd helped him keep the truth hidden.
"Emily," she whispered, "I know you hate me. You have every right to hate me. But I didn't kill your father.""
I wanted to believe her.
I also knew that wanting something to be true was not the same as knowing it was true.
"Where can I find you?"" I asked.
"I'm at home.""
"Stay there. Daniel and I are coming.""
Before she could answer, I heard another voice in the background.
A man's voice.
"Who are you talking to?""
Diane gasped.
Then the line went dead.
I stared at my phone.
Daniel was already moving toward the door.
"Call the police," he told Sarah.
"Tell them we have a possible witness to a decades-old suspicious death, a suspected forged vehicle transfer, and a potential threat at a private residence.""
Sarah dialed.
I called Diane back.
No answer.
I tried again.
Nothing.
Then a text arrived from her number.
I'm sorry, Emily. I should have told you years ago.
A second message appeared.
He knows I spoke to you.
I called her again.
This time, someone answered.
It wasn't Diane.
A man spoke in a calm, almost amused voice.
"Emily Carter.""
I stopped walking.
"Who is this?""
"You've been asking a lot of questions about your father.""
"Where is Diane?""
"Safe, for now.""
My stomach tightened.
"If you've hurt her—"
"Don't threaten me. You have no idea what your mother did to keep you safe.""
"Who are you?""
The man laughed softly.
"You've already heard my voice.""
I felt the blood drain from my face.
The recording.
The voice that had entered the room before my father's death.
"You were there," I whispered.
"Yes.""
"You're David Carter.""
"Your uncle. Though I doubt your mother ever had much to say about me.""
"Where is Diane?""
"Where she should have been eleven years ago. Somewhere quiet.""
I clenched my jaw.
"What do you want?""
"The key.""
"Which key?""
"Locker 419.""
I looked at Sarah.
The second key she'd found at the depot.
The one someone had dropped while running away.
"Why?""
"Because the contents belong to me.""
"No. They belong to my father.""
"Your father stole them from me.""
"You stole his work. You threatened him. You left him to die.""
David's voice hardened.
"Your father was a fool. He thought loyalty mattered more than money. He thought the world would reward him for doing the right thing.""
"And you killed him?""
Silence.
For the first time, I heard something uncertain in his voice.
Then he said, "Meet me tomorrow morning at the old workshop on Fairmont Avenue. Bring the key. Come alone.""
"I'm not coming alone.""
"Then Diane dies.""
The line went dead.
I stood motionless in the hallway.
Sarah lowered her phone.
"The police are on their way.""
Daniel looked at me.
"We'll find Diane. But you are not meeting him alone.""
I looked down at the brass key in my hand.
Locker 419.
Whatever was inside it had frightened David enough to threaten a woman who had helped him conceal a crime for eleven years.
I didn't know what the locker contained.
But I knew I had to find out.
Because for the first time, I wasn't simply trying to recover my mother's car or prove that my stepmother had forged my signature.
May you like
I was trying to find out who had killed my father.
And whether my mother had spent the last three years of her life protecting me from a murderer—or protecting the murderer from me.
