Chapter 3: The Voice in the Recording
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Charlotte stood in the middle of the reception hall with her phone in her hand.
Vanessa was breathing so hard I could see her shoulders rising and falling beneath her wedding dress.
My mother held my arm.
And somewhere behind us, a champagne glass slipped from someone's hand and shattered.
I barely heard it.
“Play it,” I said.
Vanessa shook her head.
“Marcus, no. Please. Not here.””
“Then tell me what's on it.””
“I can't.””
“Why?””
She looked toward her mother.
Patricia Mitchell was sitting at table seven.
She had been smiling for photographs all evening. She'd even given a toast earlier, describing Vanessa as a little girl who always dreamed of marrying a man who would love her unconditionally.
Now she was staring at Charlotte's phone.
Her face was completely white.
“Patricia,” I called.
She slowly stood.
“Sweetheart, this isn't the place.””
“Then tell me what happened on June 14, 2002.””
She looked at my mother.
For a brief moment, something passed between them.
Recognition.
Fear.
Or perhaps a warning.
Then Patricia said, “Your father was a complicated man, Marcus. Sometimes people remember things differently.””
My mother stepped forward.
“Don't.””
One word.
Quiet.
But it silenced Patricia immediately.
Mom had spent twenty-four years swallowing her questions. She'd sat through my graduation, my first job, my birthdays, and every Christmas without the man she loved.
I'd never heard her speak to anyone like that.
“Elaine,” Patricia whispered.
“Don't you dare stand there and talk about Daniel as though you knew him.””
Patricia looked away.
Charlotte pressed play.
The recording began with a low crackling noise.
Then came the sound of wind.
A door slammed.
Footsteps echoed against what sounded like concrete.
I leaned closer to the phone.
A man's voice emerged.
It sounded strained and frightened.
“Please, don't do this. My wife and son know nothing!””
My heart stopped.
Dad.
I knew that voice.
I'd spent seventeen years listening to him call me downstairs for dinner, asking about my school day, and laughing at his terrible jokes.
But this wasn't the father I remembered.
This man sounded desperate.
“Marcus,” Mom whispered.
I couldn't respond.
The recording continued.
A second voice answered.
“Daniel, you should have thought about that before you started asking questions.””
There was a pause.
Then my father's voice again.
“The money isn't yours. You have no right to touch it.””
The other man laughed.
“You still think this is about money?””
A loud bang interrupted him.
The recording crackled.
I heard my father gasp.
“Please. Just leave them out of this.””
The second voice became clearer.
“It's too late for that.””
My hands were shaking.
“Who is that?”” I asked.
Charlotte didn't answer.
The recording continued.
There was a metallic sound, like someone opening a car door.
Then my father spoke again.
“If anything happens to me, Elaine will know what to do. The documents are with—”
The recording suddenly cut off.
A terrible silence followed.
I looked at Charlotte.
“That's it?””
She nodded.
“That's all I have.””
“Where did you get it?””
“From Patricia's old storage unit. I found a cassette tape there last year. I transferred it to my phone because I didn't know what else to do.””
I looked toward Patricia.
“You kept this for twenty-four years?””
She didn't answer.
“Why?””
Her hands began trembling.
“Because I was protecting my daughter.””
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“From what?””
Patricia swallowed.
“From what your father knew.””
Vanessa stepped between us.
“Mom, stop talking.””
Patricia turned toward her.
“No. I'm not doing this anymore.””
Vanessa grabbed her arm.
“You promised me!””
The words rang through the ballroom.
I slowly turned toward my bride.
“What did she promise you?””
Vanessa released her mother.
“I was upset. I didn't mean—”
Charlotte shook her head.
“You knew about the recording, didn't you?””
Vanessa glared at her.
“Shut up!””
“You knew who was in it before you ever met Marcus.””
“That's not true!””
Charlotte held up her phone.
“Then why did you beg me to destroy the tape last month?””
I looked at Vanessa.
“Last month?””
She stared at the floor.
Charlotte continued.
“Vanessa told me Patricia had discovered something that could ruin her marriage before it even began. She asked me to get rid of the recording and every copy of it.””
My mouth went dry.
“You knew about my father's recording?””
Vanessa finally looked up.
“Yes.””
The single word hurt more than I'd expected.
“How long?””
“Marcus, I can explain.””
“How long?””
“Since before our engagement.””
I took a step backward.
For the first time, I looked at my bride and couldn't recognize the woman standing in front of me.
The woman I'd kissed that morning.
The woman whose ring I'd placed on her finger.
The woman who had just thrown my mother's gift onto the floor because she thought it was worthless.
“What else did you know?””
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Charlotte answered for her.
“She knew the Mitchell family had been mentioned in your father's will. She knew about the trust. And she knew the recording existed.””
“Then why marry me?””
Vanessa began sobbing.
“Because I fell in love with you!””
“Before or after you visited the attorney?””
She didn't answer.
I looked down at the photograph again.
My father and Patricia.
June 14, 2002.
Then I noticed something I hadn't seen before.
Behind them, reflected in the hotel's glass entrance, was another man.
He was standing beside a dark sedan.
His face was partially visible.
But I recognized the shape of his jaw.
The scar beneath his left ear.
The silver watch on his wrist.
My eyes moved slowly from the photograph toward the reception tables.
I knew that man.
I'd known him since childhood.
He had attended every birthday I could remember. He had helped Mom carry groceries after Dad died. He'd even given a speech at our rehearsal dinner the previous night.
And right now, he was standing beside my mother.
“Marcus?”” Mom whispered.
I couldn't take my eyes off him.
The man's name was Richard Cole.
My father's closest friend.
My godfather.
The person who had helped manage my father's estate after the accident.
He had just spent the evening congratulating me on my marriage.
And when our eyes met, he stopped smiling.
Charlotte noticed my expression.
“What is it?””
I pointed toward him.
“That's the man.””
Richard slowly put down his champagne glass.
Vanessa began screaming.
“Marcus, don't!””
But it was too late.
I had already recognized the voice in the recording.
May you like
It belonged to the man who had stood beside my mother at my wedding and told me, just two hours earlier, that my father would have been proud of me.
And now he was walking toward us.
