Chapter 12: The Voice on the Cassette
The cassette player was older than I was.
Tyler retrieved it from a storage unit on the south side of Atlanta, along with a box of old family photographs and several envelopes addressed to Vanessa. Daniel arranged for a technician to digitize the tape so we could preserve the original recording.
By ten the following morning, we were back in his conference room.
The cassette lay inside a clear evidence sleeve.
Dad sat beside me, his hands clasped tightly together. David stood near the window. Tyler had barely spoken since the bank froze his account.
Daniel placed a small speaker in the center of the table.
"The technician has confirmed that the recording is readable," he said.
"We have a digital copy and a preserved original. We'll document everything before using it in any formal proceedings.""
I stared at the cassette.
"What if it doesn't tell us anything?""
"Then we'll keep looking," Dad said.
His voice was steady, but his fingers were trembling.
Daniel pressed play.
A burst of static filled the room.
Then came a woman's voice.
Patricia.
"I told you this was a mistake, Vanessa.""
The recording crackled.
Another voice answered.
Vanessa.
"You said you could handle it.""
"I said I would help Laura protect the trust. I never agreed to change the test results.""
My heart began pounding.
Dad leaned forward.
"What test results?"" he whispered, though nobody had asked him.
On the recording, Vanessa gave a short, impatient sigh.
"Nobody is asking you to change anything. The report was never supposed to reach Laura.""
"She already knows there was a test.""
"She doesn't know what it says.""
Patricia's voice trembled.
"That's exactly why I want you to stop.""
A chair scraped across the floor on the recording.
Then Vanessa spoke again.
"Listen to me. If Laura discovers what happened, she will change everything. The money, the trust, the arrangements she made for Emily. Everything.""
"Then tell her the truth.""
"And let her hand hundreds of thousands of dollars to someone who abandoned her?""
"That's not your decision.""
A long silence followed.
Then Vanessa said something that made my father stand so abruptly his chair toppled backward.
"David Bennett is not the problem, Patricia. The problem is that the original test doesn't say what either of us expected.""
I stopped breathing.
Daniel paused the recording.
"Emily, are you all right?""
I nodded, though my throat had closed.
"Play it.""
He restarted the audio.
Patricia spoke again.
"Then we need to tell Laura.""
"No.""
"She has a right to know.""
"She has a dying daughter and a husband who believes he's her father. You want to destroy all of that over a piece of paper?""
"The truth doesn't become less important because it's inconvenient.""
Vanessa's voice grew colder.
"The report can stay where it is. The second report will stand. Nobody needs to know.""
Patricia whispered, "You can't keep doing this.""
"I can if you keep your mouth shut.""
A sharp click sounded.
The recording ended.
Nobody moved.
I stared at the speaker.
The original test didn't say what Vanessa expected.
The second report would stand.
There were two tests.
And someone had decided which one my family was allowed to see.
Dad sat slowly back down.
"Who was my daughter's biological father?""
Daniel looked at him.
"We don't know yet. The recording suggests the results were manipulated, but we need the original laboratory records before drawing conclusions.""
David had gone pale.
"Could the first test have shown that I wasn't her father?""
"Possibly," Daniel said.
I looked at him.
"Would you still want to know?""
David met my eyes.
"Yes. But not because I want to claim anything from you. Because you deserve the truth.""
I believed him.
That surprised me.
For years, I'd imagined that finding my biological father would be a dramatic moment in which everything suddenly made sense. Instead, I was discovering that identity could be more complicated than a name on a laboratory report.
Marcus had raised me.
David had tried to find me.
And somewhere between them, someone had decided that my future was a prize worth fighting over.
Daniel made several calls, requesting the original laboratory records and notifying the investigators about the recording.
While he worked, Tyler examined the bank's latest notice.
"They found another account," he said quietly.
Dad turned.
"What account?""
"One connected to the company Vanessa used to transfer the trust money. The bank says it received payments from three different sources.""
Daniel ended his call.
"Which sources?""
Tyler read from the screen.
"Emily's college account. The inheritance trust. And Dad's investment account.""
My stomach tightened.
"How much?""
Tyler swallowed.
"The total amount traced so far is $111,300 from Emily's accounts and $74,500 from the inheritance trust. The investment account is still being reviewed.""
Dad gripped the table.
"How much was in the investment account before the transfers?""
Tyler checked the notice.
"Approximately $300,000.""
Daniel's expression darkened.
"We'll need to reconcile those figures with the original statements. But if the bank can trace the funds through the same intermediary, that could connect the transactions.""
I thought of the BMW sitting in our driveway.
Thirty-six thousand eight hundred dollars for a car.
Seventy-four thousand five hundred dollars from my inheritance.
And potentially hundreds of thousands more from accounts my mother had tried to protect.
"Why did she need so much money?"" I asked.
Nobody answered.
Then David spoke.
"Maybe she wasn't spending it all. Maybe she was moving it somewhere she thought no one could find.""
Daniel nodded slowly.
"That's a possibility. We'll need to trace the destinations.""
Dad looked toward the window.
"Then we find every dollar.""
For the first time, his anger seemed to have settled into something colder and more determined.
But as Daniel gathered the papers, his phone rang.
He checked the number and answered.
"Daniel Brooks speaking.""
He listened.
Then his face changed.
"You're certain?""
Another pause.
"Don't release anything to anyone. We'll come immediately.""
He ended the call.
"What happened?"" I asked.
"The laboratory has located a sealed archive containing records from the year you were born.""
David stepped forward.
"Does it include the original paternity test?""
Daniel nodded.
"They believe it does. But there's a problem.""
"What problem?"" Dad demanded.
"The archive was accessed yesterday by someone claiming to represent the estate.""
My blood ran cold.
"Vanessa?""
"They haven't confirmed the person's identity yet.""
Daniel picked up his briefcase.
"We need to get there before any more records are disturbed.""
We hurried to the parking lot.
As Dad unlocked the car, my phone vibrated.
A message appeared from an unknown number.
*Your mother wasn't trying to hide your father from you, Emily. She was trying to protect you from him.*
I stared at the screen.
Another message followed.
*Ask David what happened the night he left Atlanta.*
I looked up.
David was standing beside the passenger door, watching me.
For a moment, I considered hiding the messages.
Then I handed him my phone.
He read them.
His face went completely white.
"Emily," he said quietly, "there's something about that night I never told your mother.""
Dad turned toward him.
"What did you do?""
David looked at me, his eyes filled with shame.
"I didn't leave Atlanta because I couldn't handle the pregnancy.""
He swallowed.
"I left because someone threatened to make sure you would never be born.""
May you like
And before I could ask who had made that threat, he opened the car door and told us the one name none of us had expected to hear.
"Marcus.""
