Chapter 4: The Father Who Came Back from the Dead
For eleven seconds, I couldn't move.
The man outside my bedroom door had just told me he was my father.
The father who supposedly died in a car accident when I was seven.
The father whose funeral my mother attended alone because she said I was too young to see his body.
The father whose name I hadn't spoken in twenty years.
Ava buried her face against my neck.
“Mommy,” she whispered, “is the bad man going to take us?””
I held her tighter.
“No, sweetheart. Nobody is taking you anywhere.””
My phone was still connected to the emergency operator.
“Ma'am,” the operator said urgently, “I need you to tell me your location. Are you in immediate danger?””
“Yes,” I whispered.
“There's a man inside my apartment. He says he's my father, but my father is dead.””
A pause.
“Have you seen him?””
“No.””
“Stay in a locked room. Do not approach him. Officers are being dispatched.””
Outside the bedroom, the man sighed.
“Claire, I can hear you talking to the police.””
I covered Ava's ears.
“Then you should leave before they arrive!””
“I'm not here to hurt you.””
“You broke into my home!””
“I used the spare key beneath the flowerpot. Your mother told me you still kept it there.””
My stomach twisted.
Only three people had ever known about that key: my mother, Michael, and me.
“How do you know my mother?”” I demanded.
“Because I knew her before you were born.””
“You're lying!””
“Your name was supposed to be Elizabeth. Evelyn changed it after I disappeared. She wanted you to have nothing connecting you to me.””
I stared at the bedroom door.
My legal name was Claire Elizabeth Hart.
My mother had always told me she chose Claire because it sounded gentle.
Never once had she mentioned that my father wanted to name me Elizabeth.
“Prove it,” I said.
The man went quiet.
Then something slid beneath the door.
A photograph.
I waited until I heard his footsteps retreat before I approached it.
The picture showed a younger version of my mother standing beside a dark-haired man outside a small white house. She wore a yellow dress I remembered from my childhood photographs.
The man had one arm around her waist.
The other rested on the shoulder of a little girl.
Me.
I picked up the photograph with trembling fingers.
On the back, my mother's handwriting read:
Daniel, Claire's first birthday. The happiest day before everything fell apart.
Daniel.
The man on the recording.
The man Michael had paid two million dollars.
The man my mother accused of stealing millions.
And the man standing in my living room, claiming to be my father.
I returned to the door.
“Your name is Daniel Cross?””
“Yes.””
“You stole money from Michael's company.””
“I made mistakes.””
“You threatened my mother.””
“I tried to stop her from destroying the only chance I had to make things right.””
“You let me believe you were dead for twenty years!””
His voice cracked.
“I know.””
I heard him sit down in the hallway.
“Your mother told you I died in a car accident because she believed it was the only way to keep you safe. She wasn't entirely wrong.””
“Then why are you here now?””
“Because Evelyn is dead, the documents are missing, and the people who killed her are looking for you.””
I gripped the photograph.
“You said you came to protect me. Who killed my mother?””
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, “The same person who arranged my death.””
A loud pounding interrupted him.
“Police! Open the door!””
I backed away as boots thundered through the apartment.
“Claire?”” an officer called.
“It's safe to come out.””
I unlocked the bedroom door, keeping Ava behind me.
Two uniformed officers stood in the living room. A third had a man pressed against the wall near the entrance.
He was perhaps fifty-five, with graying hair, a deep scar along his jaw, and tired brown eyes.
When he saw me, his face crumpled.
“Claire.””
I couldn't speak.
One officer turned toward me.
“Do you know this man?””
“No,” I said automatically.
Daniel closed his eyes.
The officer began reading him his rights for unlawful entry.
“Wait,” Daniel said.
“I have something that proves who I am.””
He reached slowly into his jacket.
The officers immediately ordered him to stop.
“It's a photograph,” he insisted.
“And a letter.””
They searched him and found a faded envelope bearing my mother's handwriting.
The officer examined it, then handed it to me.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Claire, if Daniel ever comes back, ask him what happened to the blue suitcase.
I looked up.
“What blue suitcase?””
Daniel's face changed.
For the first time that night, he looked genuinely terrified.
“Where did you find that letter?””
“In my mother's belongings.””
“Did you read the rest of it?””
“There is no rest.””
He shook his head slowly.
“Then Evelyn knew the truth was coming.””
“What truth?””
He looked toward the officers.
“I can't tell you here.””
One officer stepped between us.
“Sir, you're coming with us.””
Daniel didn't resist. As they led him toward the door, he turned back.
“Claire, listen to me. Do not go to First National Bank tomorrow.””
I went cold.
I hadn't told him about the brass key.
“How do you know about the bank?””
He looked at my pocket.
The envelope was still there.
“Because I put the key in that violin.””
My hand flew to my coat.
“You were the one who hid the documents?””
“No. Your mother did that. I hid the key.””
“Why?””
“Because she asked me to.””
The officer pulled him toward the hallway.
Daniel fought to turn around.
“Claire! The safe-deposit box is a trap!””
The door slammed behind him.
I stood motionless while the officers explained that they would investigate the break-in and arrange additional patrols. They took my statement, photographed the damaged lock, and left after promising to contact me.
When the apartment finally fell silent, Ava emerged from the bedroom.
“Was that really Grandpa?””
I crouched in front of her.
“I don't know, sweetheart.””
“Did Grandma lie to us?””
I swallowed hard.
“Sometimes adults hide things because they're scared. That doesn't always mean they're trying to hurt us.””
Ava looked down at the broken violin.
“Can we fix it?””
I brushed her hair behind her ear.
“We'll try.””
After putting her back to bed, I sat at the kitchen table and examined the photograph again.
The man in it was unmistakably Daniel Cross.
My father.
The criminal Michael feared.
The man my mother had apparently trusted enough to hide a key for.
And the man who had just warned me away from the very place my mother had instructed me to go.
I took out the brass key.
A small number had been engraved near its teeth.
*417.*
Beneath the number was a symbol I had never seen before: a silver star surrounded by a circle.
The same symbol embedded in Ava's violin.
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
*You met Daniel. That was your first mistake. Going to the bank will be your last.*
Another message followed immediately.
This one contained a photograph of Daniel being placed into a police car.
Someone had taken it from across the street.
The final message contained only six words.
*Ask Michael who killed your father.*
I stared at the screen until the letters blurred.
Then I called my ex-husband.
He answered on the first ring.
“Claire?””
“Michael, I need you to tell me the truth.””
“What's happened?””
“Daniel Cross just broke into my apartment.””
Silence.
Then Michael whispered, “Oh, God.””
“Apparently, he's my father.””
I heard something shatter on his end of the line.
When he spoke again, his voice was barely recognizable.
“Claire, listen to me carefully. Your father didn't die in a car accident.””
I gripped the phone.
“Then how did he die?””
May you like
Michael took a shaky breath.
“He didn't.””
