CHAPTER 3 – DAD’S VOICE
Mom's eyes dropped to the notebook in my hands.
Nobody spoke.
Then Mark quietly closed the bedroom door.
Click.
That sound scared me more than shouting would have.
Mom smiled.
“Rachel.”
I stood.
“What is this?”
“You're misunderstanding.”
“I'm holding forged guardianship documents.”
“They aren't forged.”
“Daniel doesn't write cursive.”
Her smile disappeared.
Mark stepped closer.
“You shouldn't go through people's things.”
I held Daniel's tablet against my chest.
“Funny.”
I looked at him.
“I was about to say the same thing about beating disabled people.”
His face changed.
“I restrained him.”
“I heard the recording.”
Silence.
Mom looked at Mark.
Mark looked at the tablet.
That was when I realized something.
They didn't know Daniel had recorded them.
Mom reached toward me.
“Give me the tablet.”
“No.”
“Rachel.”
“No.”
Mark moved toward the door.
Blocking it.
My heart started pounding.
Then I heard sirens outside.
Mom looked toward the window.
“What did you do?”
“I called the police from the hospital parking lot.”
That was a lie.
The hospital social worker had called.
But Mom didn't need to know that.
Mark immediately stepped away from the door.
By the time officers entered the house, Mom was crying.
Actually crying.
“My son is very sick.”
She pressed both hands against her chest.
“My daughter doesn't understand.”
Mark showed his scratch again.
“He attacked me.”
One officer looked at it.
Then at the photographs on my phone showing Daniel's arms.
He didn't say anything.
I handed them the notebook.
The guardianship papers.
The insurance policy.
Then Daniel's tablet.
Mom suddenly stopped crying.
“You have no right.”
An officer looked at her.
“Ma'am, please step back.”
“She stole that.”
“From Daniel's room.”
“That is my house.”
“It belongs to Daniel.”
Mom stared at me.
Pure hatred.
The police brought Daniel home from the hospital later that evening because they needed his statement and permission to access several files.
He walked inside holding a temporary pair of hospital-issued glasses.
He saw Mom.
Then Mark.
He stopped.
I stood beside him.
“You don't have to talk.”
Daniel looked at the detective.
Then at his tablet.
“Play Dad.”
Mom's head snapped around.
“What?”
Daniel repeated himself.
“Play Dad.”
I searched the files.
There was one labeled simply:
DAD.
The date was three weeks before our father's death.
I pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then Dad's voice.
Weak.
Tired.
But unmistakable.
“If you're hearing this, Daniel, then your mother found the trust documents.”
Mom's face went white.
I stopped breathing.
Dad continued.
“I need you to keep copies somewhere safe.”
Mom stepped forward.
“Turn that off.”
The detective raised one hand.
“Ma'am.”
Dad coughed on the recording.
Then said something I had never expected to hear.
“I think Evelyn has been replacing my medication.”
The room went silent.
My father had died from what doctors called sudden cardiac failure.
At fifty-eight.
No warning.
No explanation.
Mom whispered.
“He was confused.”
Dad's voice continued.
“I've been dizzy after taking the evening pills.”
Mom backed toward the wall.
“I told Dr. Mercer.”
Mark suddenly looked at the floor.
Dad spoke again.
“If something happens to me, check the toxicology report.”
The detective looked at Mom.
“Where is that report?”
“I don't know.”
Daniel pointed toward the open drawer.
“Behind.”
“Behind what?”
“Back wall.”
The detective removed the drawer.
His fingers ran along the wooden interior.
Then he pressed something.
A thin false panel popped loose.
Behind it was an envelope.
The detective opened it.
I saw the hospital logo.
Dad's name.
TOXICOLOGY.
Mom whispered.
“This is ridiculous.”
But there was something else behind the panel.
A photograph.
Daniel reached for it.
His hands shook.
It showed Dad lying unconscious in a hospital bed.
A man stood beside him wearing blue medical scrubs.
The man's face was turned partially toward the camera.
Mark.
On the back, Daniel had written five words.
HE CALLED HIMSELF DOCTOR THEN.
Mark moved toward the hallway.
The detective stepped in front of him.
“Where are you going?”
Mark stopped.
“I need some air.”
The detective studied the photograph.
Then studied Mark.
“What did you say your last name was?”
May you like
Mark didn't answer.
And for the first time since I'd met him, my mother looked terrified of her own boyfriend.
