Chapter 4 - The Night Thomas Died
Daniel stared at Serena’s phone and whispered, “I was here.”
Serena stopped breathing.
He pointed toward the staircase.
“Your father fell right there.”
Then Serena noticed something she had never questioned before.
Daniel knew exactly which stair.
Thomas Bennett’s death had been ruled an accident.
Now Serena needed to know who had been standing behind him.
“Start talking.”
Daniel lowered himself onto the desk chair.
Serena remained standing.
Rebecca was still on speakerphone.
“I think I should hang up,” Rebecca said quietly. “This conversation may involve matters beyond estate law.”
“No,” Serena said. “Please stay.”
Daniel rubbed both hands over his face.
“The night your father died, you were in Chicago.”
Serena remembered.
A work conference.
Thomas had called her that afternoon.
They spoke for eleven minutes.
His last words to her had been ordinary.
Get some sleep, kiddo.
Love you.
She had landed the next morning to twelve missed calls.
“Daniel called me around eight,” Thomas had said.
“No. Dad called me.”
Daniel shook his head.
“He asked me to come over.”
“Why?”
“He wanted to talk about Mom.”
Serena stared at him.
“You never told me this.”
“I know.”
Rebecca remained silent.
Daniel continued.
“Thomas knew she had approached me about putting my name on the property.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked whether I wanted the house.”
“And?”
“I told him no.”
“Did he believe you?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he said he did.”
Serena’s throat tightened.
Daniel looked toward Thomas’s photograph.
“He told me something that night. He said my biggest problem wasn’t that I was like my mother. It was that I spent so much energy proving I wasn’t like her that I never actually stopped her.”
Serena almost laughed at the painful accuracy.
“That sounds like Dad.”
“I hated hearing it.”
“I’m sure.”
Daniel accepted the sting.
“We argued.”
Serena’s chest tightened.
“About what?”
“He wanted me to promise that after you married me, I would never pressure you to change the deed.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He wanted me to tell Mom the same thing.”
Daniel swallowed.
“I said I would handle her.”
Serena closed her eyes.
Of course.
The sentence Daniel had used for two years.
I’ll handle her.
Which always meant later.
Which always meant not now.
“What happened after that?”
“We went downstairs.”
“To the foyer?”
“Yes.”
“Dad fell?”
Daniel nodded.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“He was walking down the stairs. I was behind him. He suddenly grabbed the railing.”
Serena’s heartbeat became audible.
“He said my name.”
“Then?”
“He stumbled.”
Daniel’s voice broke.
“I reached for him.”
Serena saw the image involuntarily.
Her father.
The staircase.
A reaching hand.
“Did you touch him?”
“I caught his shirt for maybe a second. It slipped.”
Serena looked away.
Daniel continued.
“He fell backward against the lower steps.”
“The medical report said he fell forward.”
Daniel froze.
Serena stared at him.
“What?”
She remembered reading the report.
Blunt-force trauma.
Multiple impacts.
Accidental staircase fall.
Maybe she had remembered incorrectly.
Rebecca spoke.
“Serena, be careful relying on memory during grief.”
Serena nodded.
But Daniel had gone pale.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“When paramedics came, I told them he fell forward.”
Serena stared.
“Why?”
“I was panicking.”
“Daniel.”
“I didn’t know exactly how he turned when he fell.”
“You just said backward.”
“I remember reaching. I remember his shirt. After that, everything happened fast.”
“Was anyone else here?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Too immediately.
Serena felt it.
“Daniel.”
He looked at her.
“Was Evelyn here?”
“No.”
“Was she here earlier?”
Silence.
Serena’s voice hardened.
“Daniel.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca inhaled audibly.
Serena gripped the edge of the desk.
“How much earlier?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes.”
“Why?”
“She came because Thomas had asked her to return some paperwork.”
“What paperwork?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe you never asked?”
“She was angry. They argued.”
“About the house?”
“Yes.”
“Where were you?”
“Outside.”
“Why?”
“Thomas told me he wanted to speak to Mom privately first.”
“What happened?”
“Mom came out furious.”
“Then what?”
“She left.”
“You saw her leave?”
“Yes.”
“Actually saw her car drive away?”
Daniel hesitated.
Serena’s blood went cold.
“No.”
“What did you see?”
“She walked toward the driveway.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“I know.”
Serena turned away.
Two years of small silences had suddenly connected to one enormous silence.
“Why didn’t you tell the police she was here?”
“I did.”
Serena turned back.
“What?”
“I told them she had visited earlier.”
“And?”
“They spoke to her.”
“Then why didn’t I know?”
Daniel looked at her helplessly.
“You were grieving. The police said there was no reason to suspect anything criminal.”
Serena thought back.
Detectives had spoken to her briefly.
Nobody had mentioned Evelyn.
Maybe because they considered it irrelevant.
Maybe because Daniel had asked them not to burden her.
Maybe because Serena had been too devastated to ask the right questions.
Her phone buzzed.
Evelyn.
A photograph.
The original deed lay on what appeared to be a restaurant table.
Beside it was another document.
Serena zoomed in.
A medical report.
Thomas Bennett.
Under toxicology notes, one phrase had been highlighted:
PRESENCE OF ZOLPIDEM ABOVE THERAPEUTIC RANGE.
Serena’s mouth went dry.
“Dad didn’t take sleeping medication.”
Daniel stood immediately.
Rebecca said, “Serena, call the police.”
Evelyn sent another message.
I DIDN’T KILL YOUR FATHER.
Serena typed with shaking hands:
THEN WHY DO YOU HAVE THIS?
The reply:
BECAUSE THOMAS GAVE IT TO ME BEFORE HE DIED.
Serena stared.
That was impossible.
The toxicology report would not have existed before Thomas died.
She responded:
YOU’RE LYING.
Evelyn:
ABOUT THE REPORT, YES. ABOUT THE WARNING, NO.
Another photograph arrived.
An old handwritten note.
EVELYN —
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, DO NOT LET DANIEL BLAME HIMSELF.
T.B.
Daniel sat down hard.
“No.”
Serena looked at him.
“What?”
“I’ve never seen that.”
She zoomed in.
The handwriting looked like Thomas’s.
But something was wrong.
The T.
Her father crossed capital T’s with a long stroke.
This one was short.
“Fake,” Serena whispered.
Rebecca asked, “What?”
“The handwriting. I think it’s forged.”
Daniel stared.
“Why would Mom forge that?”
Serena looked at him.
“To make you believe Dad expected something to happen.”
“Or to protect me.”
“From what?”
Daniel had no answer.
Rebecca said, “There’s something else you both need to know.”
Serena lifted the phone.
“What?”
“Thomas called me the afternoon he died.”
Serena stopped.
“You never told me.”
“He asked me not to unless certain conditions occurred.”
“What conditions?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Someone asserting control over your residence.”
Serena’s eyes moved toward the thermostat in the hallway.
Suddenly the absurdity was devastating.
A thermostat.
That tiny act of control.
Over and over.
Had triggered something her father planned before his death.
“What did he tell you?”
“He said Evelyn had become fixated on your property.”
“I know that now.”
“He also said he had discovered she was not acting entirely on her own.”
Daniel frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“He believed someone was advising her.”
“Martin Hale?” Serena asked.
“Possibly.”
Rebecca continued.
“Thomas was trying to determine why.”
“Why what?”
“Why Evelyn cared so much about Willow Crest. Serena, Thomas believed it went beyond wanting Daniel’s name on the deed.”
Serena looked around the study.
The room suddenly seemed unfamiliar.
“What could be more important than the house?”
“I don’t know. Thomas never finished telling me.”
Daniel stood near the window.
Then he noticed something.
“Serena.”
She turned.
He was staring at the bookshelf.
“What?”
“When did you move that?”
“Move what?”
“The clock.”
A small brass mantel clock sat on the second shelf.
Serena frowned.
“It’s always been there.”
“No.”
Daniel approached.
“I remember Thomas kept it on his desk.”
Serena did too.
Until after his death.
She had assumed someone moved it during cleaning.
Daniel lifted the clock.
It was unusually heavy.
He turned it over.
A strip of black tape covered the battery panel.
Beneath the tape was not a battery compartment.
It was a memory slot.
Serena’s pulse jumped.
Daniel opened it.
Inside was a tiny digital recorder.
They looked at each other.
The recorder displayed one saved file.
DATE: THE NIGHT THOMAS DIED.
Serena pressed play.
For several seconds, only muffled voices.
Then Thomas’s voice.
Clear.
Angry.
“You will not use my daughter’s marriage to get access to what’s under this house.”
Serena froze.
Evelyn answered.
“I’m trying to protect Daniel.”
“No. You’re trying to find something that does not belong to you.”
“What’s under the house?” Daniel whispered.
The recording continued.
A man’s voice spoke next.
Not Daniel.
Not anyone Serena recognized.
“Thomas, give us the original file and this ends tonight.”
Serena stopped the recording.
Her hand trembled.
Daniel looked at her.
“There was another man here.”
Then the motion sensor outside the study illuminated.
May you like
Someone was standing on the other side of the glass door.
And in his hand was Serena’s stolen deed.
