Chapter 10: The Phone Call From a Dead Man
Nobody moved.
Vanessa stared at the phone vibrating inside her handbag.
The caller ID still displayed the name.
*THOMAS CARTER.*
My father's name.
My father's number.
The number that had been disconnected twelve years ago.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Where did you get that phone?"" I demanded.
Vanessa didn't answer.
Richard reached toward her handbag.
"Don't pick it up.""
She pulled away.
"Why?""
"Because I told you to leave it alone.""
The phone kept ringing.
I stepped closer.
"Vanessa, answer it.""
Richard grabbed her wrist.
"Absolutely not.""
That was when I understood something.
Richard wasn't surprised by the call.
He was afraid of it.
"Let her go," I said.
He tightened his grip.
"Marcus, you have no idea what you're dealing with.""
"Then explain it.""
"Some things should stay buried.""
Vanessa suddenly twisted her arm free.
She pulled out the phone and answered.
"Hello?""
At first, there was only static.
Then a man's voice came through.
"Vanessa?""
She froze.
Richard took a step backward.
The voice continued.
"Is Marcus there?""
I reached for the phone.
"Who is this?""
A pause.
Then the voice said something that made my knees weaken.
"Son, it's Dad.""
My mother screamed.
Eleanor covered her mouth.
I took the phone from Vanessa.
"Who are you?""
"Marcus, listen carefully. I don't have much time.""
I recognized the voice.
The slight rasp.
The gentle way he pronounced my name.
The little pause before he spoke.
It was my father.
Or someone who had spent an extraordinary amount of time studying him.
"Where are you?"" I demanded.
"That doesn't matter right now.""
"Are you alive?""
Silence.
Then he answered.
"Yes.""
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I looked at my mother.
She had collapsed against the stone fountain.
"How is this possible?"" I whispered.
"Because the man who died twelve years ago wasn't Thomas Carter.""
Richard suddenly lunged toward me.
Amara shouted.
Eleanor pushed him away.
The phone slipped from my hand and hit the pavement.
The call disconnected.
For several seconds, the only sound was my mother's crying.
I picked up the phone.
The screen was dark.
"Call him back," I said.
Vanessa shook her head.
"I can't.""
"Why not?""
"That phone only receives calls. The number is hidden.""
I stared at her.
"How long have you had it?""
She swallowed.
"Three weeks.""
"Three weeks?""
"Richard gave it to me.""
I turned toward him.
"Why?""
Richard straightened his jacket.
"Because someone has been contacting us pretending to be your father.""
"Us?""
"Vanessa and me.""
My stomach turned.
"You're telling me someone has been impersonating my dead father for three weeks, and you thought that was normal?""
Richard looked toward the ground.
"I was trying to identify the person.""
"Then why did you panic when the phone rang?""
He didn't answer.
I grabbed the front of his jacket.
"Who is on the other end?""
Richard pushed my hands away.
"Someone who wants to destroy you.""
"Who?""
"Your father's former business partner.""
I stared at him.
"You were his business partner.""
"Not me. The other one.""
I frowned.
"Who?""
Richard looked at Eleanor.
She was crying silently.
Then he said a name.
"Daniel Whitmore.""
Vanessa gasped.
"My father is dead.""
Richard shook his head.
"That's what we were told.""
I looked at Vanessa.
"Your father is alive?""
She shook her head, confused.
Richard continued.
"Daniel disappeared after the accident. His death certificate was issued two days later, but nobody ever identified the body.""
Eleanor stepped forward.
"That's not true. I saw his body.""
Richard turned toward her.
"You saw a man in a coffin. You didn't see his face clearly.""
Eleanor's expression changed.
"My father was dead.""
"Then explain why I received a call from him last month.""
Vanessa stumbled backward.
I looked at her.
"Did you know?""
She shook her head.
"No. I swear.""
Richard pointed toward the phone.
"That call was arranged to make you believe Thomas was alive. The person behind it wants you to abandon the trust and start searching for ghosts.""
I stared at him.
"Then why does the caller know about the three children?""
Richard went silent.
I turned toward Eleanor.
"Do you know anything about this?""
She shook her head.
"No. I have never heard of another child.""
My mother slowly stood.
Her face was wet with tears.
Then she looked at Richard.
"Stop.""
He turned.
"Evelyn—"
"Stop lying.""
Her voice was quiet but firm.
"Thomas told me about the third child.""
I stared at her.
"What?""
She closed her eyes.
"Your father had a son before he met me. A little boy. He was born prematurely and died when he was only six months old.""
Eleanor looked at her.
"Then why did Richard say there were three?""
Mom swallowed.
"Because your father believed the child might have survived.""
Silence.
Richard laughed bitterly.
"That's impossible.""
My mother shook her head.
"Your father received a letter from the hospital several months before he died. The records showed that a baby had been transferred to another facility. The death certificate might have been falsified.""
I felt dizzy.
"Where is the letter?""
Mom looked at the cookbook.
"Your father hid it.""
I opened the book.
The lining was torn, but another narrow compartment remained inside the spine.
I pressed it carefully.
A small folded paper slipped out.
I opened it.
It was a hospital transfer record.
The baby's name was listed as Thomas Whitmore.
Date of birth.
March 8.
I looked at Vanessa.
Her face had gone completely white.
"Whitmore?""
Richard took a step toward me.
"Give me that.""
I pulled the paper away.
"Why would my father's son have your surname?""
Richard's mouth opened.
Then closed.
Vanessa began shaking her head.
"No.""
I looked at her.
"What?""
She took a step backward.
"That's my brother's name.""
My stomach dropped.
"Your brother?""
She nodded slowly.
"Thomas Whitmore. My mother told me he died as an infant.""
Richard closed his eyes.
And suddenly, the story became more horrifying than I could have imagined.
The third child wasn't another hidden heir.
He was Vanessa's brother.
My father's son.
And the person calling from my father's old number might know exactly where he was.
My phone vibrated.
A new message appeared.
**Tomorrow. 8 a.m. The abandoned Carter warehouse.
Bring the red book. Come alone if you want to meet your brother.**
I looked up.
Richard was staring at the message.
Then he whispered:
"That's impossible.""
"Why?""
May you like
He swallowed.
"Because Thomas Whitmore died last month.""
