Chapter 7: The Dead Man on the Phone
For three seconds, nobody in the ballroom moved.
The voice coming from Patricia's phone was unmistakable to Raymond.
It was the voice of my father.
Daniel Carter.
The man we had buried eleven years ago.
My mother clutched the edge of the table, her cream-colored dress trembling as she struggled to stand. Brianna stared at the phone on the floor. Patricia looked as if every secret she had spent years protecting had suddenly become a noose around her neck.
I bent down and picked up the device.
"Who is this?"" I demanded.
The voice on the other end remained silent.
"Whoever you are, answer me!""
A soft breath came through the speaker.
Then the man spoke again.
"Jalen, you have your father's eyes.""
My knees nearly buckled.
I had heard that sentence a thousand times growing up. My mother used to say it whenever I frowned at something, and Raymond repeated it when I graduated from college.
Only one person had ever said it exactly that way.
My father.
"Where are you?"" I whispered.
"Somewhere I should have returned from a long time ago.""
"Are you Daniel Carter?""
A pause.
"Yes.""
Dorothy made a sound that seemed to tear itself from somewhere deep inside her chest.
"No," she whispered.
"No, no, no.""
I looked at her.
"Mom, what is happening?""
She shook her head, tears streaming down her face.
"I saw the body.""
Raymond slowly turned toward her.
"You saw a body. You never identified it.""
"I attended his funeral!""
"Because someone told you it was Daniel.""
My mother slapped a hand over her mouth.
The man on the phone spoke again.
"Dorothy, I'm sorry.""
She let out a broken laugh.
"Sorry? You let me bury an empty promise! You let your son grow up believing his father was dead!""
"I had no choice.""
"You always had a choice, Daniel!""
Her voice echoed through the ballroom.
I had never seen my mother like that. Not when we lost our house during the recession. Not when she worked through pneumonia because she couldn't afford to miss a shift. Not even at my father's funeral.
She looked at the phone with a hatred I had never imagined she could feel for him.
I tightened my grip on the device.
"Why did you leave us?""
The silence that followed felt deliberate.
"Because the people who wanted me dead had found out what I knew.""
"Who?""
"I can't explain everything over a phone.""
"Then explain enough.""
"I discovered that money was being moved out of my company through accounts I didn't control. I confronted the people involved. One of them was Thomas Reed.""
Patricia began shaking her head.
"You're lying.""
Daniel continued.
"Thomas was involved, but he wasn't the person who organized it. He was the person they planned to blame.""
I stared at the woman who had spent years accusing my father of destroying her family.
"Who organized it?"" I asked.
My father exhaled.
"Someone who knew our business. Someone who knew my routines. Someone who could make my death look like an accident.""
Raymond backed away from the table.
My mother noticed.
"Raymond?""
He didn't answer.
I turned toward him.
"Uncle Raymond, what aren't you telling us?""
His mouth opened, but no words came.
The voice on the phone suddenly sharpened.
"Jalen, listen carefully. You have to leave that ballroom.""
I glanced at the chandeliers, the tables, the candles, the guests who had begun gathering their belongings.
"Why?""
"Because the person who has been watching you is already there.""
A crash sounded near the entrance.
Everyone turned.
A tall man in a black suit stood beside the ballroom doors. One hand held a small black device. The other was pressed against his earpiece.
He wasn't a guest.
He wasn't a member of the catering staff.
And when his eyes met mine, he immediately reached for his jacket.
Raymond shouted, "Get down!""
He shoved me behind the wedding table just as the stranger charged forward.
Guests screamed. Chairs toppled. A tower of champagne glasses shattered against the floor.
The stranger didn't reach for me.
He went straight for the envelope.
I had left my father's letter beside the centerpiece.
He snatched it and sprinted toward the exit.
I scrambled after him, but Raymond caught my shoulder.
"Don't!""
"Let go!""
"He's not alone!""
The stranger disappeared through the doors.
Two men in dark suits followed him out.
The ballroom fell into chaos. My cousins rushed to shield the older guests. Brianna pulled Patricia away from the shattered glass. My mother remained beside the table, staring at the phone in my hand.
The call was still connected.
"Dad?""
"I'm here.""
I pressed the phone against my ear.
"Someone just stole your letter.""
"I know.""
"How?""
"Because I've been watching you.""
The words chilled me.
"Watching me from where?""
"I'll tell you everything when we meet.""
"When?""
"Tonight. But you must bring the key Raymond gave you.""
I looked at the brass key in my palm.
"Why?""
"Because the second box contains the proof that can clear Thomas Reed's name.""
Patricia's face changed.
For years, she had believed Thomas was a thief who had vanished to escape punishment. Now she looked as if the possibility of his innocence frightened her more than the accusation.
"And what does the first box contain?"" I asked.
My father hesitated.
"The truth about my death.""
I swallowed.
"Was it an accident?""
"No.""
The answer came without hesitation.
My knees weakened.
"Who did it?""
A long silence followed.
Then my father said, "The person who made sure you never learned I was alive.""
The call ended.
I stared at the dark screen.
My mother slowly approached me.
"Jalen," she whispered, "there's something else you need to know.""
I looked at her.
She reached into her purse and pulled out a small photograph, its edges soft from years of handling.
It showed my father standing beside a young woman outside a hospital.
The woman was holding a newborn baby.
On the back, in my father's handwriting, were six words.
My son has a sister. Protect her.
I looked up.
"Mom, who is this woman?""
Dorothy began to cry.
Before she could answer, Brianna stepped forward.
Her face had gone completely white.
"Jalen," she whispered, "I know her.""
I turned toward my bride.
"How?""
Brianna looked at Patricia.
May you like
Then she said something that changed the entire meaning of the photograph.
"Because she's my mother.""
