Chapter 7: The Night My Father Died
The message wouldn't leave my mind.
*Before you go to the hospital, ask your mother where she was the night your father died.*
I read it again as Rachel drove me toward St. Mary's Medical Center. Outside the passenger window, October sunlight flashed across storefronts and traffic lights, but I barely noticed any of it.
My father had been dead for nine years.
He had suffered a heart attack in the driveway of our old house. Mama had told us she found him beside his truck when she returned from visiting a friend. The ambulance arrived too late, and by the time I reached the hospital, he was gone.
That was the story I had carried for nine years.
Now someone was suggesting it wasn't the whole truth.
Rachel glanced at my phone.
“Another message?””
I handed it to her at a red light.
She read it, and her face tightened.
“Naomi, don't jump to conclusions.””
“I'm not.””
“You're gripping that phone like you're about to throw it through the windshield.””
I looked down at my hands.
She was right.
I forced my fingers to relax.
“I need to know where Mama was that night.””
“Then ask her. But don't let an anonymous message convince you that she had something to do with your father's death.””
“I know.””
And I did.
Whatever my mother had done, I couldn't accuse her of something that serious without evidence.
But I couldn't ignore the message, either.
When we reached the hospital, Marcus stood outside the maternity assessment unit, pacing beneath a fluorescent light. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair disheveled, and his phone was pressed against his ear.
“No,” he said into it.
“I don't care what it costs. Run the test.””
He noticed me and immediately ended the call.
“Naomi.””
I walked toward him.
“Where's Tiana?””
“Inside. They're monitoring her.””
“Is the baby okay?””
“They think so. The bleeding has slowed, but they're keeping her for observation.””
I exhaled.
Despite everything, relief loosened the knot in my chest.
“Can I see her?””
He nodded.
Then he reached for my hand.
I stepped back.
“Don't.””
His face crumpled.
“I know you hate me.””
“I don't have the energy to hate you right now. I just need you to stop touching me as though nothing has changed.””
He lowered his hand.
“I'm sorry.””
“You keep saying that.””
“Because I don't know what else to say.””
“Try the truth.””
He stared at me.
I pulled out the copy of my father's will.
“Did you know my father left me the company?””
Marcus's expression changed.
For a fraction of a second, something like panic crossed his face.
“Yes,” he admitted.
I felt my stomach turn.
“How long have you known?””
“Since before we got married.””
I took a slow breath.
“Did you marry me because of the money?””
“No.””
“Then why didn't you tell me about the will?””
“Your father asked me not to.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course he did. Everybody in my life seems to have been given instructions about what I was allowed to know.””
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“Your father believed the company would be safer if you didn't become involved until you were older.””
“I was twenty-four when I married you.””
“I know.””
“Old enough to get married. Old enough to run a business. Old enough to be lied to, apparently.””
He looked away.
I lowered my voice.
“Did you know about the financial transfers to Mama?””
He hesitated.
That hesitation was answer enough.
“How much money did you give her?””
“I didn't give her all of it.””
“How much?””
“Naomi, some of those payments were for expenses. She helped with the company accounts.””
“Patricia found more than two hundred thousand dollars in transfers.””
He went pale.
“Patricia still has those records?””
“Yes.””
He stared at me for several seconds.
Then he whispered, “Your father wasn't supposed to keep copies.””
The words sent a chill down my spine.
I stepped closer.
“What does that mean?””
Before he could answer, a nurse opened the assessment room door.
“Family of Tiana Carter?””
Marcus hurried inside.
I followed him.
Tiana lay on the bed beneath a thin white blanket. Her face was pale, and an IV line ran into her arm. A monitor beside her recorded the baby's heartbeat in steady electronic pulses.
When she saw me, she started crying.
“Naomi.””
I stood beside the bed.
“How are you feeling?””
“Scared.””
I looked at the monitor.
“Is the baby okay?””
“The doctor says the heartbeat is reassuring,” she whispered.
“They want me to rest.””
I nodded.
“Then rest.””
She reached for my hand.
I hesitated before taking it.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
“I know I don't deserve your kindness.””
“This isn't about what you deserve right now. You're my sister, and you're scared. We can deal with everything else later.””
She squeezed my fingers.
Then her eyes shifted toward Marcus.
“Did you tell her?””
He frowned.
“Tell her what?””
Tiana swallowed.
“The truth about Mama.””
I turned toward him.
“What truth?””
Marcus moved toward the door.
“Tiana, you're tired. Don't do this right now.””
She pulled her hand away from mine.
“No. You told me if I ever got pregnant, you would finally tell Naomi everything.””
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?””
Tiana's breathing quickened.
“Marcus told me that your mother had been seeing another man before your father died. He said Daddy knew about it and that the stress contributed to his heart problems.””
My blood ran cold.
“That's not possible.””
“I don't know if it's true,” Tiana whispered.
“That's what he told me.””
I turned toward Marcus.
“Is that why you said my father wasn't the man I thought he was?””
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“I shouldn't have said that.””
“Answer me!””
He looked toward the hallway.
“I don't know what happened the night your father died.””
“But you know something.””
He remained silent.
I took out my phone and showed him the anonymous message.
“Someone told me to ask Mama where she was that night.””
His expression collapsed.
He stared at the screen, then at me.
“Who sent that?””
“I don't know.””
For several seconds, he looked genuinely frightened.
Then he said, “You need to talk to Denise.””
“I plan to.””
“Not here. Not in front of Tiana.””
I looked at my sister.
She had turned her face toward the window, tears slipping down her cheeks.
I released her hand.
“Get some rest,” I told her.
As I walked toward the door, Marcus followed.
In the corridor, I turned on him.
“I'm going to ask Mama about the night Daddy died. If she tells me you were involved in anything you haven't admitted, I swear to God—”
“Naomi, I didn't kill your father.””
The words came out so quickly that we both froze.
I hadn't accused him of murder.
I hadn't even used the word.
He stared at me, breathing hard.
I felt the floor disappear beneath my feet.
“Why would you say that?””
Marcus opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
“Because I know what you're thinking.””
“No. You know something I don't.””
He looked toward Tiana's room.
Finally, he whispered, “The night your father died, I was at your mother's house.””
My heart hammered.
“Why?””
He swallowed.
“Because Denise called me.””
“What time?””
“About eight-thirty.””
My father had died shortly after nine.
I remembered the phone call that night. Mama had screamed my name so loudly that I dropped my purse. I had driven to the hospital, praying that Daddy would survive.
Marcus had met me there.
He had held me while I cried.
He had promised I wouldn't have to face anything alone.
All that time, he had known he was part of a secret surrounding my father's final hours.
“What happened at Mama's house?”” I whispered.
Marcus shook his head.
“I can't tell you until Denise is here.””
“You can tell me now.””
“Naomi, please.””
I stepped back.
“You don't get to decide when I learn the truth anymore.””
He lowered his eyes.
Then he reached into his wallet and removed a small photograph.
It showed my father standing in front of his truck, one arm around a woman whose face had been scratched out.
On the back, someone had written a date.
The date my father died.
And beneath it were five words.
*Ask who made the call first.*
Marcus placed the photograph in my hand.
“I didn't take that picture,” he whispered.
“Then who did?””
May you like
He looked directly at me.
“Your mother.””
