Chapter 7 - The Call From Home
Nobody moved.
The voice came again.
“Nora, it's Elizabeth.”
Margaret gripped the table.
Howard looked toward the door.
Beverly whispered, “That's not possible.”
Marcus moved first.
He approached the window and looked outside.
“There’s a woman on the porch.”
Nora joined him.
A woman in her early sixties stood under the porch light.
She held a ceremony program.
Nora opened the door.
“Elizabeth?”
The woman smiled nervously.
“Middle name.”
Margaret stepped forward.
“Claire?”
The woman's face changed.
“Hello, Margaret.”
Nora looked between them.
“Someone needs to explain this immediately.”
The woman entered.
Her full name was Claire Elizabeth Bennett.
David's younger sister.
The family had called her Elizabeth as a child.
After David's death, she moved overseas.
Years later, a clerical mix-up and a deceased relative with a similar name led Margaret to believe Claire had died.
“Why didn't you contact her?” Nora asked.
Claire looked at Margaret.
“I tried.”
Margaret's face tightened.
“Walter.”
Claire nodded.
“He told me Margaret wanted no contact with David's family.”
Nora almost laughed.
Walter again.
“How did you find me?”
“Samuel.”
“And the ceremony?”
Claire smiled.
“I've followed your career for years.”
“How?”
“Public announcements. Professional publications. Your grandfather's updates.”
“You sent the anonymous email.”
“Yes.”
“You sent the texts?”
Claire's smile disappeared.
“No.”
Nora stiffened.
“Then who did?”
“I assumed Marcus did.”
Marcus shook his head.
Nora took out her phone.
Unknown number.
Messages.
Warnings.
Documents.
Whoever sent them had access to records Claire didn't.
Nora typed:
WHO ARE YOU?
No response.
Claire sat.
“I need to tell you something else.”
Nora almost groaned.
“Of course you do.”
Claire gave a small apologetic smile.
“I was the one who contacted the ceremony coordinator.”
“You were the coordinator.”
“No. I used my middle name when I registered as a volunteer liaison. I wanted to help without making the day about me.”
“So you put the cards out?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they were part of your reservation.”
Nora stared at the two words printed on the photograph from the ceremony.
Mom.
Dad.
“Did you know they weren't coming?”
“By Tuesday evening.”
“How?”
“Your father called Samuel.”
Howard looked confused.
“I called him Wednesday.”
Claire shook her head.
“He received a voicemail Tuesday.”
Howard's face changed.
“I didn't leave one.”
The room fell silent.
Marcus said, “Can we hear it?”
Samuel still had the voicemail.
He played it over speakerphone.
Howard's voice filled the room.
“Samuel, it's Howard. Beverly and I won't be attending Nora's promotion. She doesn't know the real reason. Please make sure someone is there for her.”
Howard stared at the phone.
“That isn't me.”
Nora's skin prickled.
It sounded exactly like him.
Marcus frowned.
“Could be synthesized.”
Nora looked at the documents.
The anonymous messages.
The false email.
The forged signatures.
Someone was still manipulating them.
“Walter.”
Howard nodded.
“He had recordings of my voice.”
“Why?”
“Years of phone calls.”
Claire looked frightened.
“But why would Walter make sure Nora had support?”
Nobody answered.
Because that was the contradiction.
Walter had spent decades hiding fraud.
Why orchestrate something kind?
Nora's phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Who is this?”
A man's voice replied.
“You have the file.”
Walter.
Howard stood.
Nora switched to speaker.
“What do you want?”
“What I always wanted. The problem contained.”
“You stole from my trust.”
“I borrowed money.”
“You forged my name.”
“You benefited from the arrangement.”
“That doesn't make it legal.”
Walter sighed.
“Nora, your family is very good at simplifying complicated things.”
“Where are you?”
“Far enough away.”
“Did you send the texts?”
“No.”
“Did you fake Dad's voicemail?”
Silence.
That was enough.
“Why?”
“To move Samuel.”
“Why would you want him involved?”
Walter laughed softly.
“Because Samuel has something that belongs to me.”
“What?”
“The original ledger.”
Howard went pale.
“What ledger?”
“The one documenting every transfer.”
Nora understood.
Evidence.
“Samuel has proof you stole the money.”
“Yes.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because I'm tired.”
The answer surprised her.
Walter continued.
“I've spent thirty years carrying Beverly's mistake, Howard's cowardice, Margaret's grief, Samuel's anger, and my own crimes.”
Beverly flinched.
“No,” Nora said. “You don't get to put your crimes beside their mistakes as if they're equivalent.”
Walter became quiet.
“You sound like David.”
Nora's chest tightened.
“You knew him?”
“I was his friend.”
Margaret stood.
“What?”
Walter's voice changed.
“I was supposed to drive him that night.”
Margaret went white.
“What night?”
“The accident.”
Nora looked at her biological mother.
Margaret whispered, “Walter.”
“I canceled,” he said. “He drove alone.”
“That doesn't make his death your fault.”
“No. But what I did afterward does.”
“What did you do?”
“I convinced Margaret she couldn't raise you. I introduced Beverly to the adoption process. I made myself indispensable.”
“Why?”
“Guilt makes people strange.”
Nora shook her head.
“Guilt didn't steal four hundred thousand dollars.”
“No.”
His voice hardened.
“Greed did.”
At least he admitted it.
“Where are you?”
Walter ignored her.
“The person sending you those messages isn't me.”
“Who is?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
Then:
“But whoever it is has documents they shouldn't possess.”
Nora looked at Marcus.
“What documents?”
“The maternity record was sealed. Only four people ever had authorized copies.”
“Who?”
“Margaret. Beverly. Howard.”
“And?”
Walter paused.
“Me.”
Nora's phone buzzed while he was still speaking.
A message.
Not from the unknown number.
From Admiral Mercer.
CALL ME NOW.
Nora ended Walter's call and immediately dialed.
Mercer answered.
“Nora, did you give anyone access to your personnel file?”
“No.”
“Someone tried to access it tonight.”
“Who?”
“We're investigating.”
“What were they looking for?”
Mercer hesitated.
“Emergency contact information.”
Nora's eyes moved across the room.
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
Then Beverly's phone rang upstairs.
Everyone heard it.
Beverly stared toward the staircase.
“I left it in the bedroom.”
It rang again.
And again.
Beverly slowly climbed the stairs.
Nora followed.
The phone lay on the bed.
Caller ID:
NORA WHITAKER.
Beverly turned.
“But you're standing right here.”
The ringing stopped.
A voicemail appeared.
Nora pressed play.
Her own voice came through the speaker.
“Mom, don't tell Nora what happened the night David died.”
Nora froze.
May you like
The recording continued.
“Because Howard was there.”
