Chapter 6: Evelyn’s Warning
The recording continued through bursts of static.
“Thomas, please call me back. I don’t think Margaret understands what I want.””
Daniel stood inches from the answering machine.
Nobody moved.
“I’m not asking for money,” Evelyn said.
“I’m not trying to take Daniel away from you. He’s grown now. I just want him to know I didn’t abandon him.””
Daniel covered his mouth.
The recording clicked off.
Another message began.
“Thomas, it’s me again.””
Evelyn sounded more frightened this time.
“Someone came into my apartment.””
Rachel looked at me.
“Nothing was taken,” Evelyn continued.
“But the photograph of Daniel was moved. I know how that sounds. Please, just call me.””
Click.
A third message.
This one was shorter.
“Thomas, Margaret came to see me.””
Daniel whispered, “Oh God.””
“She told me to disappear again.””
Click.
Then silence.
Daniel pressed the button.
No more messages.
He stared at the machine.
“Dad kept these.””
Rachel began opening the boxes.
“Maybe there’s more.””
The first contained old tax records.
The second was filled with photographs.
Daniel as a baby.
Daniel at school.
Daniel playing baseball.
At first I didn’t understand.
Then I realized none of the photographs had been taken from close range.
Some were shot from across streets.
Others from parking lots.
One showed teenage Daniel leaving a movie theater.
Another showed him graduating high school.
Someone had been watching him grow up.
“Evelyn,” I whispered.
Daniel picked up the graduation photograph.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
He looked happy. That was enough for me.
Daniel sat on the floor.
I lowered myself beside him.
“She was there,” he said.
“Yes.””
“All those years.””
Rachel stared at the photographs.
“Mom told me Evelyn disappeared.””
“She didn’t,” Daniel said.
His voice was empty.
“She stayed away because she thought I was happy.””
The third box contained letters.
Dozens of them.
Every envelope was addressed to Daniel.
None had been mailed.
He opened one dated on his eighteenth birthday.
Dear Daniel,
Today you are legally an adult, and I have spent all morning trying to decide whether that means I finally have the right to knock on your door.
I drove there.
I saw balloons tied to your mailbox.
I saw you laughing with your sister.
Then Margaret came outside and saw my car.
She walked toward me.
She reminded me that you believed she was your mother.
She said telling you the truth would destroy your life.
So I drove away.
I hope someday you forgive me for being a coward.
Love, Evelyn.
Daniel folded the letter.
Tears rolled down his face.
“I would have wanted to know.””
“I know,” I said.
Rachel turned away.
“I’m sorry.””
Daniel looked at her.
“You keep apologizing for Mom.””
“No.””
Rachel faced him.
“I’m apologizing for me.””
Her voice shook.
“I knew she manipulated people. I knew she lied. I just never thought…”
She looked at my belly.
“I became exactly like her.””
Nobody contradicted her.
Then Rachel found a small black notebook.
“Daniel.””
He took it.
Thomas’s handwriting filled the pages.
The final entries were from the month before his death.
Daniel read aloud.
“August fourth. Evelyn contacted me. Margaret lied.””
Another entry.
“August ninth. Met Evelyn. She wants nothing except the truth.””
August fourteenth.
“Spoke with attorney. Changing estate immediately.””
August seventeenth.
“Margaret discovered meeting.””
Then—
August nineteenth.
“If anything happens to me, Daniel needs to see medical report.””
Daniel stopped.
“What medical report?”” I asked.
He flipped forward.
The next page had been torn out.
Rachel searched the box.
Nothing.
“Maybe Mom took it,” she said.
Daniel continued.
August twentieth.
“Dr. Hayes confirmed my concern. Need second opinion.””
August twenty-first.
“Feeling dizzy again after dinner.””
My skin went cold.
Rachel stopped searching.
Daniel read the line again.
“After dinner.””
The next entry was barely legible.
August twenty-third.
“Margaret insists vitamins are helping. They aren’t.””
Daniel closed the notebook.
His father died on August twenty-fourth.
I remembered Daniel telling me the story years ago.
Thomas had eaten dinner at home.
He complained of dizziness.
Margaret suggested he lie down.
By the time she checked on him, he was unresponsive.
The death certificate listed cardiac arrest.
“Daniel,” I whispered, “we don’t know what this means.””
He nodded.
But his face said he was already thinking the worst.
Rachel whispered, “What medical report?””
“I don’t know.””
Daniel opened the suitcase.
Inside were several shirts, an old shaving kit, and a sealed plastic folder.
He pulled it out.
Empty.
Except for a business card.
Dr. Samuel Hayes.
Internal Medicine.
There was a handwritten number on the back.
Daniel immediately dialed it.
Disconnected.
Rachel searched the doctor’s name.
“Samuel Hayes retired years ago.””
“Is he alive?”” Daniel asked.
She kept searching.
“Yes.””
“Where?””
“About forty minutes from here.””
Daniel stood.
I did too.
“No.””
He looked at me.
“You’re going home.””
“Daniel—”
“You fell down a staircase yesterday.””
“And I’m not spending the day wondering whether you’re confronting strangers alone.””
“I’ll go with him,” Rachel said.
Daniel stared at her.
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because I don’t trust you.””
Rachel accepted that without argument.
I touched his arm.
“Call Detective Harris.””
That made him stop.
“This could be nothing,” I continued.
“Your father could have had a medical condition. Dizziness doesn’t prove anything.””
Daniel nodded.
“You’re right.””
He called Harris.
The detective listened, then told us not to contact Margaret and not to remove anything else from the unit.
He agreed to meet us there.
Twenty minutes later, Harris arrived.
He photographed the notebook and collected the answering machine.
Then Daniel showed him Dr. Hayes’s card.
Harris frowned.
“I know this name.””
Daniel looked up.
“How?””
“He contacted the department several years ago.””
“About my father?””
“I don’t know.””
Harris made a call.
While he spoke, I wandered toward the back of the storage unit.
Behind the suitcase was a narrow wooden panel.
Something white protruded from beneath it.
“Daniel?””
He came over.
“What?””
I pointed.
He pulled the panel forward.
Behind it was a large envelope.
Unlike everything else in the unit, this one looked newer.
On the front, Thomas had written:
FOR DANIEL ONLY.
Daniel opened it.
Inside was a copy of a laboratory report.
Several values had been circled.
I didn’t understand any of them.
But Harris did.
His expression changed immediately.
“Don’t touch anything else.””
Daniel looked at him.
“What is it?””
Harris didn’t answer.
Instead, he took the report with gloved hands.
Then his phone rang.
He stepped aside.
“Detective Harris.””
We watched him listen.
His eyes moved toward Daniel.
“You’re certain?””
A pause.
“Send me the address.””
He hung up.
“What happened?”” I asked.
Harris looked at Daniel.
“We found Dr. Hayes.””
“Good.””
“No.””
Something in his voice made my stomach tighten.
“What do you mean?””
Harris slipped his phone into his pocket.
“Dr. Hayes died two months ago.””
Daniel’s shoulders dropped.
Our last obvious witness was gone.
Then Harris continued.
“But three days before he died, he mailed a package to the police department.””
Daniel stared at him.
“A package containing what?””
Harris looked at the laboratory report in his hand.
“A letter about your father’s death.””
May you like
He paused.
“And a warning that Margaret Bennett might try to destroy the evidence.””
