Chapter 7
The cassette could not be played immediately.
It was old.
Fragile.
Michael wanted to shove it into the first tape player we could find.
His attorney refused.
“If this becomes evidence, we preserve it properly.”
“Evidence of what?”
The attorney looked at the medication bottles.
“You know what.”
The police were contacted that evening.
At first, the detective sounded skeptical.
A twenty-five-year-old death.
No autopsy.
A widow denying wrongdoing.
A storage unit full of old papers.
Then he saw the lab results.
The medication.
Robert’s notes.
The tape.
The case changed.
By the next morning, investigators had taken custody of the potential evidence.
Diane hired a criminal defense attorney.
Michael sat at our kitchen table staring at his father’s photograph.
Not the formal portrait Diane kept above her fireplace.
The one from the envelope.
Robert beside David.
My mother.
The mysterious woman.
Daniel.
“I wonder what he looks like now,” Michael said.
“Daniel?”
“Yeah.”
“Like your dad, maybe.”
“Maybe.”
He touched the edge of the photograph.
“What if he hates me?”
“He doesn’t know you.”
“He has reasons.”
“For what?”
“I got the father he didn’t.”
I sat across from him.
“You were a child.”
“I know.”
“There’s nothing you could have done.”
He looked at me.
“Do you hate my mother?”
I thought carefully.
“Yes.”
He almost smiled.
“At least that was fast.”
“I’m angry.”
“That sounds nicer.”
“No. I actually hate what she’s done.”
He nodded.
“So do I.”
“But she’s still your mother.”
“Unfortunately.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to excuse her.”
“I know.”
I gave him a look.
He sighed.
“Sorry.”
For the first time in days, we laughed.
Then the doorbell rang.
We both froze.
Michael checked the camera.
It was Charlie.
He stood on the porch holding a cardboard box.
Michael opened the door but did not invite him inside.
“What do you want?”
Charlie looked awful.
Unshaven.
Wrinkled shirt.
Eyes red.
“I need to talk to you.”
“About?”
“Robert.”
Michael stepped onto the porch.
I followed.
Charlie noticed me.
“Can we do this privately?”
“No,” Michael said.
Charlie sighed.
“Fine.”
He set the box on the porch table.
“What is that?”
“Things I should have turned over years ago.”
Michael stared at him.
“Why now?”
“Because Diane called me.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“What did she say?”
“That everyone had turned against her.”
Michael crossed his arms.
“And?”
“That I owed her.”
“Do you?”
Charlie laughed bitterly.
“More than I can repay.”
“What does that mean?”
Charlie looked at me.
Then at Michael.
“She kept me out of prison.”
My skin prickled.
Michael’s voice hardened.
“For stealing Dad’s money?”
“Yes.”
There it was.
No denial.
Charlie sat heavily in the porch chair.
“Your father trusted me.”
“And you stole from him.”
“Diane started it.”
Michael laughed.
“There’s the family motto.”
Charlie looked ashamed.
“I’m not asking you to excuse me.”
“Good.”
“She found out I had gambling debts.”
“How much?”
“Back then? Nearly ninety thousand.”
Michael whistled softly.
“She offered to help.”
“With Dad’s money.”
“Yes.”
“You moved it.”
“At first, small transfers.”
“And then?”
“Bigger.”
“Did Dad find out?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He threatened police.”
“And Mom?”
“She told him if he reported us, she would reveal his hidden accounts and the money he had been sending Daniel.”
Michael frowned.
“Why would support payments to Daniel matter?”
“Because some came from business funds.”
Michael closed his eyes.
“Dad was using company money?”
“Sometimes.”
Nobody in this story was clean.
Not completely.
Charlie continued.
“Robert started collecting evidence anyway.”
“Did Diane poison him?”
Charlie’s face changed.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I never saw her put anything in his food.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Charlie looked away.
Michael stepped closer.
“What do you know?”
“Diane asked me to get something.”
“What?”
“Digoxin.”
The word hung between us.
I remembered the lab report.
Digitalis compounds.
Michael’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“Why?”
“She said Robert’s mother had heart problems and needed medication.”
“Did you believe her?”
“I wanted to.”
“Where did you get it?”
“A guy I knew through the track.”
“You gave it to her?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“About a month before Robert died.”
I covered my mouth.
Michael looked physically sick.
“You helped her.”
“I didn’t know what she planned.”
“Did you suspect?”
Charlie’s eyes filled.
“Later.”
“How much later?”
“After Robert collapsed at work.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I was afraid.”
Michael looked away.
I could see rage in the set of his shoulders.
Charlie continued.
“The night Robert died, Diane called me.”
“What time?”
“Maybe nine.”
“What did she say?”
“That Robert had left.”
“Where was he going?”
“She thought Louisville.”
“To Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“She told me to meet her near Old Mill Road.”
Michael stared at him.
“That’s where Dad’s car crashed.”
Charlie nodded.
My stomach dropped.
“Were you there?”
“After.”
“How long after?”
“Maybe ten minutes.”
“Was Dad alive?”
Charlie looked at the floor.
Michael’s face changed.
“Charlie.”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you check?”
“No.”
“You went to his crashed car and didn’t check?”
Charlie’s voice broke.
“Diane was already there.”
Nobody moved.
Michael whispered, “My mother was at the crash?”
“Yes.”
“Before police?”
“Yes.”
“What was she doing?”
Charlie shook his head.
“I stayed back.”
“What was she doing?”
“She was leaning into the driver’s side.”
My stomach turned.
Michael grabbed the porch railing.
“Was Dad moving?”
“I couldn’t see.”
“What happened next?”
“Another car came around the curve.”
“The person who called 911?”
“Probably.”
“Then?”
“Diane ran back to her car.”
“And you?”
“I left.”
Michael stared at him as if he had never seen him before.
“You both left my father.”
“Yes.”
“If he was alive—”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Michael’s voice broke.
“If he was alive, you left him there.”
Charlie started crying.
“I’ve lived with it every day.”
Michael laughed bitterly.
“My father didn’t.”
Charlie flinched.
I put my hand on Michael’s back.
He stepped away.
“What’s in the box?”
Charlie wiped his face.
“Copies of bank records.”
“Anything else?”
“A notebook.”
“Whose?”
“Diane’s.”
My pulse jumped.
“How did you get it?”
“She gave it to me after Robert died and told me to destroy it.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
It seemed everyone in this family kept evidence as insurance.
Charlie opened the box.
Inside were folders.
A small black notebook.
And a photograph.
Michael picked it up.
It showed Diane and Robert standing outside their house.
A date was printed in the corner.
One month before Robert died.
Diane was holding a coffee mug.
Robert stood near his car.
Nothing unusual.
Then Charlie pointed.
“Look at the window.”
In the reflection of the front window, a man was visible.
Robert.
Again.
But this Robert was inside.
Michael frowned.
“How can Dad be outside and reflected inside?”
Charlie shook his head.
“That isn’t Robert outside.”
We looked closer.
The man beside Diane had the same build.
Similar hair.
But his face was turned away.
“Who is it?” Michael asked.
Charlie whispered, “Daniel.”
Michael stopped breathing.
“Daniel was here?”
“He came to Nashville.”
“When?”
“Three weeks before Robert died.”
“Why?”
“To confront Diane.”
“About what?”
“His father.”
Michael stared at the photograph.
“What happened?”
“Daniel told her he was done letting her control Robert.”
“And?”
“She told him Michael hated him.”
Michael flinched.
“What?”
“She said you knew about him.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know.”
“She told him I knew?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“That you wanted nothing to do with him.”
Michael looked crushed.
“Why?”
“To keep you apart.”
I thought of Diane telling Evan that my mother wasn’t “real family.”
She had been dividing people for decades.
Charlie stood.
“I’m sorry.”
Michael looked at him.
“Don’t come back.”
Charlie nodded.
“I understand.”
“Give everything to the police.”
“I will.”
Then he looked at me.
“Emily.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t leave Michael alone with Diane.”
Michael frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Charlie looked toward his car.
“She called me this morning.”
“And?”
“She said if she loses you, she has nothing left.”
Michael’s expression hardened.
“That doesn’t scare me.”
“It should.”
Charlie left.
Two hours later, Rebecca Ellis called.
This time, Daniel was beside her.
Michael sat straight.
“Can I talk to him?”
A male voice came through.
Deep.
Controlled.
“You’re Michael?”
“Yes.”
Long pause.
“I thought you’d sound like Dad.”
Michael’s eyes filled.
“I don’t know what Dad sounded like anymore.”
Daniel went quiet.
Then said, “I do.”
Michael’s breath caught.
“I have recordings.”
“What?”
“Dad used to send me cassette letters.”
Michael stared toward the evidence folder.
“Daniel…”
“Yeah?”
“Did you see Dad before he died?”
“Yes.”
“Did you go to Nashville?”
“Yes.”
“Did you confront my mother?”
“Yes.”
Michael gripped the phone.
“Did she tell you I knew about you?”
Daniel laughed without humor.
“She told me you hated me.”
“I didn’t know you existed.”
“I know that now.”
Michael covered his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel’s voice softened slightly.
“Then don’t apologize.”
Michael lowered his hand.
“Can I meet you?”
Silence.
Then Daniel said, “There’s something you need to hear first.”
“What?”
“The last recording Dad sent me.”
My entire body went cold.
May you like
Daniel continued.
“He recorded it in his car the night he died.”
