Chapter 10: The Man Who Never Died
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
The photograph on my phone showed Richard Hale standing outside my house in his charcoal coat.
But according to Mr. Collins, Richard Hale was actually Thomas Reed.
The man my mother had feared.
The man Vanessa had spent months helping.
The man who had supposedly disappeared twenty years earlier.
I looked at Margaret.
"Is this him?""
She took the phone from my hand.
The moment she saw the photograph, her face lost its color.
"Yes.""
"You're certain?""
"I would recognize that face anywhere.""
I stepped away from the table.
"Then why did you tell everyone he was missing?""
Margaret placed the phone down.
"Because he wanted to disappear.""
"Why?""
"Because your mother had evidence that could have sent him to prison.""
I looked at the voice recorder.
"What kind of evidence?""
"Financial fraud. Forged property transfers. Embezzlement. And something much worse.""
I felt my throat tighten.
"What?""
Margaret glanced toward the windows.
"Your mother's accident.""
I stared at her.
"What accident?""
She closed her eyes.
"The accident that killed her.""
My legs nearly gave way.
My mother had died in a car accident six years earlier. She was driving home from a charity dinner when another vehicle crossed the center line.
The police had called it a tragic collision.
The other driver had died at the scene.
I'd spent months grieving.
I'd never questioned the official report.
"Are you telling me Thomas caused her death?""
"I'm telling you I believe he arranged it.""
I shook my head.
"Why didn't you tell the police?""
"I tried.""
"And?""
"They didn't believe me. I had no proof.""
She pointed to the recorder.
"Your mother knew something was coming. She recorded her final conversation with Vanessa because she wanted evidence.""
I picked up the device.
"Then let's listen.""
Margaret hesitated.
"There's one more thing.""
I looked at her.
"What now?""
"Vanessa didn't know Thomas was planning to hurt your mother. At least, not initially.""
"How can you know that?""
"Because I spoke to her afterward.""
I felt anger rise.
"You've been in contact with Vanessa?""
"Not recently.""
"How long?""
"Years.""
I stared at her.
"Everyone seems to have been talking to everyone except me.""
Margaret lowered her eyes.
"I deserve that.""
I pressed the recorder's power button.
A click sounded.
Then static.
A chair scraped.
And my mother's voice filled the kitchen.
"Vanessa, sit down.""
I stopped breathing.
It was the voice I remembered from childhood.
Warm.
Calm.
Slightly tired.
Another woman answered.
"Why did you ask me to come here?""
Vanessa.
Younger, but unmistakable.
My mother's voice continued.
"Because your father is planning something.""
"He hasn't contacted me in years.""
"That's not true.""
Silence.
Then Vanessa said, "What do you want from me?""
"I want you to stay away from Nia.""
A chair moved.
"Why?""
"Because she's your sister.""
I covered my mouth.
The recording continued.
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
"Now you remember that?""
"I never forgot.""
"You forgot when Dad lost everything.""
"I was trying to protect you.""
"You protected Nia.""
"She was a child.""
"So was I!""
There was a loud thud.
Then my mother's voice softened.
"Vanessa, please. I know what your father did. I know what he told you. But you need to understand that he stole from this family.""
"He said you stole from him.""
"He lied.""
A long silence followed.
Then Vanessa asked something that made my blood run cold.
"Did you really leave everything to Nia?""
My mother answered immediately.
"Yes.""
"Even the building?""
"Yes.""
"The investment accounts?""
"Yes.""
"And the house?""
"Everything.""
Vanessa's voice became cold.
"Then you haven't changed.""
My mother sighed.
"I offered you a share.""
"I don't want a share.""
"Then what do you want?""
"I want what should have been mine.""
My mother's voice trembled.
"Your father has filled your head with resentment.""
"No, Evelyn. You did that yourself.""
Then came a sentence I would never forget.
"You're going to lose another daughter if you keep protecting the wrong one.""
The recording stopped.
I sat motionless.
Margaret reached across the table and touched my hand.
"There's more.""
I pressed play again.
The next section began with my mother's voice, quieter this time.
"Thomas, you need to leave.""
A man's voice answered.
"You should have signed the agreement.""
"I will never sign something that gives you control of Nia's inheritance.""
"Then you leave me no choice.""
My mother's breathing became faster.
"Don't threaten me.""
"I'm not threatening you, Evelyn. I'm reminding you that accidents happen.""
Then the recording ended.
I stared at the device.
"That's him.""
Margaret nodded.
"Yes.""
My phone began ringing.
Mr. Collins.
I answered.
"Nia, I need you to listen carefully. Thomas Reed has been using several identities. The police are reviewing his records.""
"He's alive.""
"Yes. And we believe he's connected to the fraudulent loan.""
"He's at the center of everything.""
"Probably. But don't confront him.""
I looked at Margaret.
"He's been here. At my house.""
"I know. That's why I'm calling.""
"What happened?""
Mr. Collins took a breath.
"Someone accessed your mother's estate archive this morning.""
My stomach tightened.
"The basement?""
"Yes.""
I looked at the brass key.
"How?""
"The building's security system recorded an entry at 7:18 a.m.""
"Who?""
A pause.
"Vanessa.""
I closed my eyes.
"She has the key?""
"We don't know. But she entered using an authorized access code.""
I turned toward Margaret.
She looked terrified.
"What's in the archive?"" I asked.
"Original trust records. Your grandfather's correspondence. And the signed settlement agreement.""
"Anything else?""
Mr. Collins hesitated.
"Your mother's private medical records.""
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Why would Thomas want those?""
"Because there may be evidence connected to her death.""
I ended the call.
Margaret stood immediately.
"We need to go.""
"Where?""
"To Carter House.""
I grabbed my coat and the brass key.
As we stepped outside, a black car moved slowly past the house.
I recognized the driver.
Richard Hale.
Thomas Reed.
He stopped at the end of the street and lowered his window.
He smiled at me.
Then he held up a small photograph.
My mother's photograph.
The one I had left on the kitchen table.
My heart stopped.
May you like
He had been inside my house.
And he wanted me to know it.
