Chapter 8: The Accident That Wasn't So Simple
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
The air conditioner hummed above the office door. Outside the glass walls, an airport employee pushed a cart stacked with bottled water past a row of waiting passengers.
Ordinary life continued.
Inside the office, I was beginning to doubt everything I had believed about my family.
I pointed at the flash drive.
“Are you telling me Marcus's accident wasn't an accident?””
Daniel didn't answer immediately.
“I'm telling you the records he found gave him reason to believe someone was following him.””
I shook my head.
“The police said he lost control on a wet road.””
“That's what the report says.””
“And you think somebody caused it?””
“I don't know.””
“Then why bring it up?””
“Because the last person Marcus called before he died was someone connected to the clinic.””
Tasha sat down again.
I turned toward her.
“You knew about this?””
She shook her head.
“Not until Daniel contacted me six months ago.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I didn't know whether it was true.””
I laughed bitterly.
“That's becoming a familiar excuse.””
Her eyes filled with tears, but I couldn't bring myself to comfort her.
Daniel placed the flash drive on the desk.
“Marcus wanted me to verify the records before anyone confronted the clinic. He was afraid the person who altered them might still have access to the system.””
I looked at the drive.
“What's on it?””
“Scanned documents. A few emails. And an audio recording.””
“Of whom?””
“Marcus.””
My throat tightened.
My brother's voice had been absent from my life for six years. I had kept his last voicemail on an old phone until the battery died. I still remembered his laugh, his habit of calling me at inconvenient hours, the way he'd say my name when he wanted me to stop being stubborn.
The idea of hearing him again was almost unbearable.
“Play it,” I said.
Daniel looked toward Officer Lewis.
“Is there a computer we can use?””
Lewis nodded and brought a laptop from the adjoining desk. He set it down and inserted the drive.
A folder appeared on the screen.
Several files were listed by date.
Daniel clicked the audio recording.
There was a burst of static.
Then my brother's voice filled the room.
“If you're hearing this, Daniel, I haven't managed to fix the mess.””
I gripped the edge of the desk.
Marcus sounded tired. Older than I remembered. There was a faint rustling noise in the background, followed by the click of what might have been a car indicator.
He continued.
“The clinic says the original donor number was entered incorrectly. They claim it was a clerical mistake, but somebody accessed the file after the correction was made.””
A pause.
“I don't believe them.””
I stared at the screen.
Marcus went on.
“I found a second number. It belongs to a man who was never supposed to be part of the program. I don't know how his information got into the system. I don't know whether Maya's conception involved the original donor or the second one.””
Daniel glanced at me.
The recording continued.
“There's another problem. Someone called me today and told me to stop asking questions. They knew where Malcolm lived. They knew Maya's school.””
My stomach clenched.
The recording crackled.
“If anything happens to me, don't let them turn this into a custody fight. Maya doesn't deserve that. And Malcolm needs to know the truth, even if it destroys his trust in everyone involved.””
The audio ended.
Nobody moved.
I stared at the laptop, listening to the silence that followed my brother's voice.
Then I turned toward Daniel.
“Why didn't you take this to the police six years ago?””
His face tightened.
“I tried to.””
“What happened?””
“The recording was incomplete. I had no original files, no proof of tampering, and no clear threat. The police said they couldn't reopen the case based on suspicion.””
“And you accepted that?””
“No.””
“Then what did you do?””
“I kept looking.””
He reached into the envelope and pulled out a printed email.
“Six months ago, I received this from someone who worked at the clinic. They said the original records had been archived under a different patient number.””
I took the page.
The sender's name was unfamiliar.
The date was recent.
The message contained a single sentence.
The Carter file was never supposed to be changed.
Beneath it was an address.
A private medical records office on the other side of the city.
I looked at Daniel.
“Why didn't you go there yourself?””
“I did.””
“And?””
“The file was missing.””
Tasha covered her mouth.
I turned to her.
“What?””
She shook her head.
“Nothing.””
“Don't.””
She lowered her hands.
“Malcolm, I went there too.””
I felt my heartbeat quicken.
“When?””
“Last month.””
“Why?””
“Because I wanted to know what Daniel had found.””
“And you didn't tell me?””
“I was afraid the file would prove that Maya wasn't yours.””
I stared at her.
“Biologically?””
She nodded.
I leaned forward.
“Do you understand what you're saying? You were willing to let me believe a stranger might be my daughter's father, but you couldn't bear to tell me that the records were uncertain?””
“I didn't know how to explain it.””
“You could have started with the truth!””
My voice cracked against the office walls.
Maya appeared in the doorway.
She had been sitting with an airport staff member in a nearby room, but she must have heard us.
Her eyes moved from me to Tasha.
“Daddy?””
I immediately softened.
“Hey, baby.””
She approached slowly.
“Are you angry because I'm not your real daughter?””
The question cut through every other thought in my head.
I knelt before her.
“No.””
“But Mommy said—”
“I don't care what a piece of paper says about our family. You are my daughter. I have been your father every day of your life, and nothing in these records changes that.””
Maya's chin trembled.
“Promise?””
I took both her hands.
“Promise.””
She threw her arms around my neck.
I held her tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo, feeling the small weight of her body against mine.
For a moment, I forgot about the clinic, the documents, and the possibility that my brother had died because he had asked the wrong questions.
Then Maya whispered into my shoulder.
“Daddy, I remember Daniel.””
I pulled back.
“What?””
She wiped her nose with her sleeve.
“I saw him before.””
Tasha stood abruptly.
“Maya, no.””
My daughter flinched.
I looked at my wife.
“Let her speak.””
Maya took a shaky breath.
“When I was little, maybe five, Mommy took me to a building with lots of glass windows. She told me to stay in the car, but I saw Daniel talking to a man.””
“What man?””
“I don't know his name.””
“Can you describe him?””
She nodded.
“He had a silver watch. And he was wearing a blue tie. He gave Daniel an envelope.””
Daniel went very still.
“What did the man look like?”” he asked gently.
Maya frowned, searching her memory.
“He had a little mark beside his eye. And he called Mommy by a different name.””
Tasha's face drained of color.
I turned toward her.
“A different name?””
She shook her head rapidly.
“She's remembering it wrong.””
Maya began to cry.
“I'm not!””
I placed a hand on her shoulder.
“It's okay, sweetheart. You're not in trouble.””
Daniel leaned forward.
“Maya, do you remember what the man called your mother?””
My daughter nodded.
Then she whispered a name I had never heard before.
“Rebecca.””
Tasha sank into the chair.
For the first time that day, she looked less like a frightened wife and more like someone whose entire identity had just been exposed.
I stared at her.
“Who is Rebecca?””
She covered her face.
And Daniel, who had spent six months searching for the truth, looked as though he'd finally found the answer to a question he had been afraid to ask.
“Malcolm,” he said quietly, “I think your wife has been hiding more than Maya's parentage.””
He turned the laptop toward me.
One of the archived files had opened.
At the top was a scanned photograph of a woman who looked remarkably like Tasha.
But the name beneath the photograph wasn't Tasha Carter.
It was Rebecca Ellis.
May you like
And beside it was a date.
A date from four years before I met my wife.
