Chapter 5: My Father's Voice
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
The voice came again through the ventilation grate, distorted by static but unmistakably familiar.
“Claire, if you're hearing this, you've made the same mistake your mother made.””
I backed away from the wall.
“That isn't possible,” I whispered.
David grabbed my arm.
“Don't move.””
“It's my father's voice!””
“I know.””
Richard was already searching the wall for a control panel.
“There's a security system in here. Arthur had it installed years ago.””
I stared at him.
“You knew about this room?””
“I knew there was an archive. I didn't know he wired it for remote playback.””
The voice continued.
“Rebecca, if you're there, I'm sorry. I know you won't believe that. You have every reason not to.””
Mae sank onto a chair.
Tears streamed down her face.
“Arthur,” she whispered.
The recording crackled.
“I made decisions I believed were necessary. I convinced myself that separating you from your child would protect her from the people who wanted to use you. I told myself you would recover, that you would eventually understand.””
A bitter laugh escaped Mae.
“Understand?””
She looked up at the ceiling.
“You stole my baby!””
The recording continued as if he had heard her.
“I was wrong.””
The simplicity of those words made the confession more horrifying.
My father had spent his entire life presenting himself as a man who could do no wrong. He'd donated to hospitals, funded scholarships, and delivered speeches about family values.
And beneath his own house, he'd preserved evidence of the crime that had destroyed two families.
“Claire,” the recording said, “you were never supposed to find this room.””
I clenched my fists.
“Then you shouldn't have built it!””
David was trying to force the steel door open.
“Help me,” he called to Richard.
They pushed together.
The door didn't move.
Richard examined the handle.
“It's electronically locked.””
“How do we open it?”” I demanded.
“Find the control panel.””
We searched the walls while my father's voice continued.
“If you've found the birth certificates, then you've probably discovered that there were two children.””
I froze.
Two children.
The words echoed through my mind.
The second birth certificate.
Evelyn Morgan.
“Your mother was told only one baby survived,” the recording continued.
“She believed the other child had died during delivery. That lie was mine.””
I stared at the photograph of the newborn.
“Why?”” I whispered.
The answer came from the speakers.
“Because the second child was never supposed to exist.””
Mae gripped the edge of the table.
“What does that mean?””
Nobody answered.
The recording crackled again.
“Rebecca, you gave birth to twins. A boy and a girl. Your daughter was placed with me. Your son was taken to a private facility under a false name.””
Richard stopped searching.
David turned toward the speaker.
“No.””
The word came out as a whisper.
My stomach tightened.
“David, what is it?””
He stared at the floor.
“My father told me Rebecca had one child.””
Richard's expression changed.
“Your father?””
David looked at him.
“Michael Hale.””
Richard went completely still.
For the first time since he'd arrived, he looked genuinely frightened.
“That's impossible.””
David shook his head.
“My mother told me my father died when I was young. But before she died, she gave me a letter. It said Michael Hale wasn't my biological father.””
Richard's mouth opened.
Then closed.
Mae looked between them.
“Who is Michael Hale?””
Richard slowly removed a photograph from his wallet.
It showed a young man standing beside Arthur Bennett outside the hospital.
The man had David's eyes.
The same narrow nose.
The same small scar beneath his chin.
Richard placed the photograph beside David's face.
“You're Michael Hale's son.””
David stared at the picture.
“I never knew.””
Richard sank into a chair.
“Michael was my older brother.””
Silence filled the basement.
The revelation was so unexpected that I almost forgot we were trapped underground.
David was not simply a man who'd helped my father conceal a crime.
He was the son of the man who'd been involved in it.
And Richard had spent twenty-three years chasing the truth about his own family.
My father's recording continued.
“The boy was moved because Michael believed he could use him to secure control over the family trust. He wanted a child who could inherit the money without Rebecca's interference.””
Richard covered his mouth.
“My brother was a monster.””
The recording paused.
Then came another voice.
My mother's.
“If you find this, please don't let Arthur decide what happens to the children. He thinks money can erase what he's done. It can't.””
I closed my eyes.
I remembered my mother sitting on the edge of my bed the night before she died, holding my hand and telling me that some secrets were buried because the truth could hurt people.
I'd thought she was talking about death.
Now I wondered if she'd been trying to confess.
The recording ended with a click.
The lights flickered back on.
A small red indicator began blinking above the steel door.
Richard rushed to the wall.
“I found the panel.””
He entered a sequence of numbers.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
The indicator turned green.
A heavy lock disengaged.
The door opened.
Cold air rushed into the basement.
We hurried upstairs, but Mae stopped at the top step.
She was staring at the photograph in her hand.
“There's something else,” she whispered.
I turned toward her.
“What?””
She pointed to the image of the newborn.
“Look at the bracelet.””
I leaned closer.
The baby's wrist was marked with a white hospital band.
Beside the printed name, someone had written a number.
*17.*
The same number on my mother's note.
Room seventeen.
I looked at David.
“Where was the private facility?””
He hesitated.
Richard answered.
“St. Agnes Children's Center. It closed fifteen years ago.””
“Where?””
“Outside Hartford.””
I grabbed my coat.
“Then we're going there.””
David blocked the staircase.
“No.””
I stared at him.
“You don't get to stop me.””
“Claire, you don't understand. That place was shut down after an investigation. Patients were transferred, records were destroyed, and people disappeared.””
“People like Rebecca?””
He looked at Mae.
“People like her son.””
Mae suddenly grabbed my hand.
“Wait.””
Her face had gone pale.
“I remember a name.””
We all turned toward her.
She closed her eyes.
“Someone used to come to my room. He wore a silver watch. He told me my baby was safe.””
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“He called himself Daniel.””
Richard's face changed.
“Daniel Hale?””
Mae nodded uncertainly.
Richard shook his head.
“Daniel was my brother's son. He died in a car accident twenty years ago.””
“Then why do I remember him?”” Mae whispered.
David's phone began ringing.
He looked at the screen and answered without speaking.
A man's voice came through the speaker.
“Michael?””
David stiffened.
“Who's this?””
“Someone who knows where Evelyn is.””
Richard lunged toward the phone.
“Tell me who you are!””
The caller ignored him.
“Bring Rebecca to the old children's center by midnight. Come alone, or the girl dies.””
The call ended.
Nobody moved.
Then Richard whispered the words I was beginning to dread.
“Evelyn is alive.””
I looked at the two birth certificates.
One child had grown up as Claire Bennett.
The other had disappeared into a system designed to erase him.
And someone was now threatening to kill a woman named Evelyn.
I turned toward Mae.
“Do you remember anything else?””
She looked at me, and for the first time, I saw something stronger than confusion in her eyes.
Determination.
“I remember holding two babies,” she said.
“One was crying. The other was completely silent.””
Her voice broke.
“Someone told me the silent one was dead.””
She looked down at the silver hair clip.
“But I don't think he was.””
David took a step toward us.
“Claire, we need to leave. Now.””
Before anyone could move, the telephone on the basement table rang.
It was an old landline, disconnected from the rest of the house.
Richard stared at it.
“That's impossible.””
The phone rang again.
I picked up the receiver.
A woman whispered on the other end.
“Claire?””
“Who is this?””
“Don't trust Richard.””
I glanced at him.
The woman continued.
“Your father lied about the twins. Your husband lied about the hospital. But Richard is the one who knows where the boy went.””
Richard lunged toward the receiver.
I pulled it away.
“Who are you?””
The woman took a shaky breath.
“My name is Evelyn.””
Then she said something that made my entire body go cold.
“And I'm not your brother.””
May you like
She paused.
“I'm your sister.””
