Chapter 11 - The Voice of the Dead
“Your father.”
The words barely registered before the line went dead.
I kept the phone against my ear.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
“Hello?”
Daniel was already beside me.
“Claire?”
I stared at the screen.
Blocked number.
No caller ID.
No trace of the call.
The detective standing across from me watched my face carefully.
“Who was it?”
I swallowed.
“My father.”
Nobody moved.
Even my mother seemed to forget the blood drying on her coat.
Officer Ramirez stepped closer.
“Claire, your father is listed as deceased.”
“I know.”
“You said the caller identified himself as Arthur Williams?”
“Yes.”
“Did you recognize the voice?”
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
The voice had been older.
Rougher.
But there had been something unmistakable in it.
The way he breathed before speaking.
The slight rasp on certain words.
The quiet pause before saying my name.
The way Dad used to say “Claire” when he was disappointed in me.
I had heard that voice my entire childhood.
“I recognized him.”
Daniel took my hand.
“But that's impossible.”
My mother whispered, “No.”
Everyone looked at her.
She shook her head slowly.
“No, it isn't.”
My stomach dropped.
“You knew?”
She looked at me.
“I knew he might be alive.”
“You said he was dead.”
“I believed he was dead.”
“You just told us the opposite!”
“I didn't know.”
“You knew enough to say you believed.”
She looked down.
“What did he tell you?” she asked.
I stared at her.
“He told me not to trust you.”
Her face changed.
Not anger.
Not surprise.
Fear.
Real fear.
Then the lights in the storage unit flickered.
Officer Ramirez immediately reached for his radio.
“Everyone stay where you are.”
The overhead light went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Natalie gasped.
Daniel pulled me behind him.
Something scraped against the outer wall.
One slow drag.
Then another.
Ramirez shouted, “Who's there?”
No answer.
He motioned to another officer.
They moved toward the hallway.
Then a metallic crash came from somewhere outside.
The officers rushed through the door.
We heard footsteps.
Fast.
Then a car engine screamed to life.
By the time Ramirez returned, breathing hard, the vehicle was gone.
“Whoever it was knew we were here.”
My mother whispered, “Gerald.”
Ramirez looked at her.
“Gerald is already in custody.”
“Then someone working for him.”
Daniel turned to me.
“Your father knew this was going to happen.”
I looked at the old brass key still lying in my palm.
Seventeen.
The storage unit.
My father's secret.
And the voice that shouldn't exist.
Mr. Bennett reached for the file containing the forged insurance documents.
“There's something else.”
He opened the file.
“This wasn't the only designation.”
He spread three forms across the metal cabinet.
The first named Claire Williams.
The second named Natalie.
The third named Gerald Pike.
I stared.
“Three versions?”
Mr. Bennett nodded.
“Three different beneficiary documents. Three different dates.”
“Which one is real?”
“That is the problem.”
He tapped the earliest form.
“The first one.”
My heart pounded.
“Claire and Natalie.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to this one?”
“It disappeared from the insurer's records.”
“Who removed it?”
“We don't know.”
My mother suddenly sank into the chair.
“I know.”
I turned toward her.
“Then tell us.”
She closed her eyes.
“Arthur did.”
I stared.
“What?”
“He took the original.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew someone inside the company was replacing documents.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You always say that.”
She looked at me.
“This time, I mean it.”
The door opened.
A paramedic wheeled in Gerald.
His face was pale.
His wrists were handcuffed to the rail.
His eyes were closed.
“He's conscious now,” the paramedic said.
Ramirez stepped toward him.
“Gerald.”
Gerald opened his eyes.
He looked directly at me.
Then at my mother.
Then at the document in Mr. Bennett's hand.
His expression changed.
“You found it.”
“What?” I asked.
“The first designation.”
I moved toward him.
“Where is my father?”
Gerald's breathing became shallow.
“Still running.”
“From whom?”
He laughed weakly.
“You still think Arthur ran from the police.”
“Didn't he?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
Gerald looked at my mother.
“She knows.”
My mother stood abruptly.
“Don't.”
Gerald smiled.
“You lied to her for four years.”
My mother whispered, “Gerald, please.”
He looked back at me.
“Your father didn't disappear.”
I felt cold.
“He was taken.”
“By whom?”
Gerald's eyes flicked toward the ceiling camera.
“I can't say.”
“Why?”
“Because if I say it, they know I talked.”
“Who are they?”
He swallowed.
“People your father trusted.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Arthur trusted the people around him?”
Gerald laughed bitterly.
“That's why he's still alive.”
A silence fell over the room.
“Where is he?”
Gerald looked at me.
Then he said something so softly that I almost missed it.
“Look where your mother never looked.”
My mother froze.
I remembered the note.
Your father hid the truth where Margaret never looked.
I looked at Mom.
“Where did Dad think you would never search?”
She didn't answer.
“Mom.”
Nothing.
Daniel looked around.
Then he noticed the storage cabinet bolted into the wall.
He walked toward it.
“There.”
He opened the lower drawer.
Empty.
He ran his fingers along the back.
“There's a false panel.”
The officers moved in.
A screwdriver appeared.
The panel came loose.
Behind it was a narrow metal box.
No one breathed.
Daniel pulled it out.
There was one envelope inside.
My name was written across it.
Claire.
My hands shook as I opened it.
A photograph fell out.
Dad stood beside a younger version of himself.
Same face.
Same eyes.
But the second man had been dressed in a dark suit.
On the back were four words.
DON'T TRUST THE MAN BESIDE ME.
I stared at the photograph.
Then at Mr. Bennett.
“Who is he?”
Mr. Bennett went pale.
“Thomas Vale.”
My chest tightened.
The same man from the old photographs.
The same man connected to the altered insurance records.
The same man who had somehow appeared in my father's life long before any of us understood why.
And underneath the photograph was a final line in Dad's handwriting.
If I am dead, Thomas knows where I am.
I looked up.
“My father was telling us to find Thomas.”
Mr. Bennett's phone rang.
He answered.
His face went blank.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“Thomas Vale just checked into a private hospital under an alias.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Why?”
May you like
Mr. Bennett lowered the phone.
“Because someone tried to kill him.”
