Chapter 7 - The Dead Man in the Hospital Camera
Nathaniel watched the footage himself.
Caroline wasn’t imagining it.
The man beside Margaret had his father’s height.
His walk.
Even the slight tilt of his left shoulder from an old tennis injury.
But the camera angle never showed his face clearly.
Nathaniel paused the frame.
Andrew stood behind him.
“That’s impossible.”
Samuel was less certain.
“People can resemble each other.”
Rebecca asked, “Did Charles have a brother?”
Nathaniel shook his head.
“No.”
Caroline stood across the room.
Since Andrew revealed Victor’s role, she had barely spoken.
Nathaniel turned to her.
“What did Victor tell you?”
Her face hardened.
“About what?”
“Thomas Miller.”
“Nothing.”
Andrew laughed.
“That’s a lie.”
Caroline glared at him.
“You’ve lied to everyone for six years.”
“So have you.”
Nathaniel slammed his hand against the table.
“Enough.”
Everyone stopped.
He looked at Caroline.
“Did Victor ever mention Thomas?”
She stared at him.
Then slowly sat.
“Yes.”
Rebecca stepped forward.
“When?”
“About ten years ago.”
“What did he say?”
Caroline twisted her wedding ring.
“He got drunk.”
Nathaniel remembered Victor’s drinking.
“He said there was a man he should have killed years ago.”
Rebecca went still.
“Did he say my father’s name?”
“No.”
Caroline looked at her.
“He called him the accountant.”
Rebecca sat down.
Caroline continued.
“I thought it was business nonsense.”
“And later?”
“After Victor died, I found a storage key.”
Andrew folded his arms.
“The files.”
Caroline nodded.
“There were documents. Payments from Dad. From Mother.”
Nathaniel asked, “To Victor?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“They didn’t say.”
“And Thomas?”
Caroline shook her head.
“I found one photograph.”
She took out her phone.
The photograph showed an older man walking into a pharmacy.
Rebecca stared.
Even twenty years older, she recognized him.
“Dad.”
Nathaniel looked at her.
She touched the screen.
“That’s my father.”
Caroline whispered, “Victor took that picture five years ago.”
Rebecca started crying.
Her father had been alive.
Five years ago.
While she was married to Nathaniel.
Living less than an hour from the pharmacy in the photo.
“Where?”
Caroline gave the location.
Connecticut.
Rebecca stood immediately.
Nathaniel stopped her.
“It’s five years old.”
“I don’t care.”
“He may not be there.”
“I said I don’t care.”
Nathaniel nodded.
They drove.
The pharmacy had changed ownership.
But the previous pharmacist still lived nearby.
He remembered Thomas.
“He came in every month,” the pharmacist said.
“For what?” Rebecca asked.
“Heart medication.”
Rebecca swallowed.
“When did he stop coming?”
“Maybe four years ago.”
“Did you know where he lived?”
The pharmacist thought.
“He used a post-office box.”
They found the address.
Box 317.
Nathaniel looked at Rebecca.
The key.
The key from Charles’s office.
They returned to New York and went to the bank.
Box 317 was registered to a company that had dissolved eighteen years earlier.
Nathaniel used the key.
Inside were three envelopes.
One addressed to Rebecca.
One to Nathaniel.
One to Margaret.
Rebecca opened hers first.
My Rebecca,
If you are reading this, then I failed to come home.
She covered her mouth.
Nathaniel put an arm around her.
Thomas explained everything.
He had survived the bridge crash.
Victor had found him in the hospital under an assumed name.
Victor threatened to kill Rebecca and her mother if Thomas ever returned.
Thomas disappeared.
For years, he collected evidence.
He planned to expose Charles.
But Charles eventually contacted him and offered a deal.
Charles would help Thomas return safely if Thomas stayed silent until Margaret could be protected from Victor.
Rebecca shook her head.
“Protected?”
Nathaniel opened his envelope.
Inside was another letter from Thomas.
Nathaniel,
Your father was guilty of many things, but he did not order my death.
Charles eventually tried to help me.
The person who stopped him was closer to you than either of us understood.
Nathaniel read the next line twice.
Do not trust the person who tells you Margaret was Victor’s victim.
Nathaniel looked at Caroline.
She stared back.
“What?”
He showed her.
Caroline’s face drained.
“I never said Mother was Victor’s victim.”
Andrew whispered, “Not yet.”
They opened Margaret’s envelope.
It contained no letter.
Only a photograph.
Margaret.
Victor.
Together.
Much younger.
Kissing.
Caroline staggered backward.
“No.”
Nathaniel stared.
Victor had married Caroline.
But years before that—
he had been involved with their mother.
Andrew said nothing.
Nathaniel suddenly understood.
Victor’s connection to Margaret wasn’t business.
It was personal.
Rebecca turned over the photograph.
On the back was a date.
Twenty-nine years earlier.
Andrew was twenty-nine years old.
Everyone looked at him.
Andrew laughed nervously.
“No.”
Nobody spoke.
He backed away.
“No.”
Caroline whispered, “Andrew…”
“No.”
Nathaniel stared at his brother.
The resemblance had always been there.
Not to Charles.
To Victor.
Andrew shook his head violently.
“No.”
Then Nathaniel’s phone rang.
Margaret.
He answered.
“Mom?”
Her voice trembled.
“Nathaniel, you found the photograph.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Thomas told me you would.”
Rebecca grabbed his arm.
Nathaniel put the call on speaker.
“Where are you?”
Margaret ignored him.
“There are things I did because I thought I had no choice.”
“Where are you?”
“I need you to bring Rebecca.”
Rebecca leaned toward the phone.
“Where is my father?”
Silence.
Then Margaret said, “He’s here.”
Rebecca stopped breathing.
Nathaniel stared at the phone.
“Put him on.”
A man’s voice came through.
Older.
Weak.
But Rebecca recognized it instantly from childhood recordings.
“Becca?”
She collapsed into Nathaniel’s arms.
“Dad?”
The voice broke.
“My little girl.”
Then a loud crash sounded through the call.
May you like
Margaret screamed.
The line went dead.
