Chapter 7: The First Victim Was Still Alive
Tom stared at the photograph on my phone as though he'd seen a ghost.
His face had lost every trace of color.
"Where did you get this?"" he whispered.
"It was just sent to me.""
He took the phone, enlarged the image, and examined the background.
My mother was standing beside her old blue sedan. She wore the same cream-colored jacket she'd been wearing in the photographs from the week she died.
But there was something else.
A man stood behind her, partially hidden by the open driver's door.
I zoomed in.
His face was blurry, but I could make out his dark hair and the distinctive scar running down his cheek.
Tom dropped his hand.
"Good Lord.""
"Who is he?""
Tom looked at my father.
Neither man answered.
"Please," I said.
"I'm tired of everybody knowing things except me.""
My father pulled out a chair.
"His name was Michael Bennett. He was the accountant who originally discovered the missing money.""
"What happened to him?""
Tom rubbed his forehead.
"Michael disappeared six months before your mother died. His car was found abandoned near the Cumberland River. The police assumed he'd drowned.""
"Did they find his body?""
"No.""
I looked at the photograph again.
"Then how do you know he was dead?""
Tom's eyes met mine.
"We didn't.""
Jace stepped closer.
"Are you saying he could still be alive?""
Tom nodded slowly.
"Your mother believed Michael had survived. She told Walter she received a phone call from him two days before she died.""
My father stood abruptly.
"Why didn't you tell me that?""
"Because I didn't have proof.""
"Tom, you knew Michael might be alive?""
"I knew your wife thought he was.""
My father turned away, breathing heavily.
I looked at the photograph.
"Who sent this?""
Jace examined the message details.
"It's coming through an anonymous number. But the image itself has something interesting.""
He zoomed in on the bottom corner.
There was a timestamp.
October 18, 2021.
I frowned.
"That's impossible. Mom died in 2011.""
Tom took the phone again.
"No, sweetheart. Look at the date format.""
He pointed to the numbers.
"That's the date the photograph was scanned, not taken.""
He looked toward my father.
"Someone has been going through the original evidence recently.""
My phone vibrated again.
A second message appeared.
If you want to know what happened to your mother, ask Walter's old mechanic about the red toolbox.
I showed it to Tom.
He went completely still.
"The red toolbox," he repeated.
"What does that mean?""
Tom walked toward the fireplace and pulled an old photograph from a shelf.
It showed Walter standing beside a younger man in a garage.
Behind them was a large red toolbox.
"That's where Walter kept the things he didn't trust anybody else to handle.""
"Where is it now?""
"At the old clubhouse storage unit.""
Jace grabbed his keys.
"Then let's go.""
My father caught his arm.
"Not without a plan. Richard knows we've found Emily. We don't know who else is watching.""
Jace looked at him.
"My father spent his whole life trying to protect this family. I'm not sitting around while somebody threatens his daughter.""
I flinched at the word.
His daughter.
Nobody had called me that before.
Tom put a hand on Jace's shoulder.
"We go together.""
An hour later, we arrived at an old brick building on the outskirts of Nashville.
The storage unit was covered in dust.
Walter's name was still written on a metal label beside the door.
Tom unlocked it.
Inside were motorcycle parts, old photographs, boxes of paperwork, and a workbench.
The red toolbox stood against the back wall.
I approached it.
There were six drawers.
The first contained wrenches.
The second held screwdrivers and electrical equipment.
The third was empty.
The fourth contained old receipts.
Tom tried the fifth drawer.
Locked.
He looked at Jace.
"Your father used to keep the spare keys in his boots.""
Jace laughed sadly.
"He really did.""
He searched a nearby cabinet and found a small metal key taped underneath a shelf.
It opened the drawer.
Inside was a sealed plastic bag.
It contained a cassette tape, a flash drive, and a photograph.
I picked up the photograph.
It showed my mother standing beside a woman I'd never seen before.
The woman was holding a little boy.
On the back, Walter had written:
Michael's family. Before everything went wrong.
Tom picked up the cassette.
"That's Michael's voice.""
My father stared at it.
"Do you think it contains his confession?""
"Maybe.""
We found an old cassette player on the workbench.
Tom inserted the tape.
Static filled the room.
Then a man's voice emerged.
"If anyone is listening to this, my name is Michael Bennett. I worked for the Parker Children's Foundation.""
My father gripped the edge of the table.
The recording continued.
"I discovered that Richard Hayes had been transferring donations into private accounts. But he wasn't working alone.""
A pause.
Then Michael said something that made my stomach turn.
"The second person approving those transfers was Linda Parker.""
I closed my eyes.
The voice continued.
"Your mother knows. She has copies of everything. If something happens to me, please make sure Emily Parker gets the truth.""
Then came a sound.
A door opening.
Michael's voice changed.
"Oh, God. You're here.""
A second voice spoke.
A woman.
I recognized it immediately.
My aunt.
"Michael, you shouldn't have kept those records.""
The tape crackled.
Then Michael whispered:
"Linda, please. I have a family.""
Her answer was cold.
"Then you should have thought about that before you crossed us.""
The recording ended with a loud crash.
Nobody moved.
I looked at Tom.
"That was her.""
He nodded.
My father covered his face.
For several seconds, the only sound was the humming fluorescent light above us.
Then Jace noticed something tucked beneath the cassette player.
A folded newspaper clipping.
He unfolded it.
His expression changed.
"What is it?"" I asked.
He handed it to Tom.
The headline read:
*MISSING ACCOUNTANT REPORTEDLY SPOTTED ALIVE IN WEST TENNESSEE.*
The article was dated three weeks earlier.
Tom read the final paragraph.
Then he looked at me.
"Emily, I think we finally found Michael.""
My phone rang.
An unknown number.
I answered before anyone could stop me.
A man's voice came through.
"Emily Parker?""
"Yes. Who is this?""
"My name is Michael Bennett.""
I stopped breathing.
He continued.
"I've been waiting eleven years for someone to find that tape.""
Then he whispered:
May you like
"Your mother didn't die because she discovered the theft. She died because she discovered what Richard planned to do with you.""
The line went dead.
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