Nobody spoke after Ruth's words.
I thought I had misunderstood her.
"My father died."
Ruth shook her head.
"That is what the records say."
Daniel looked furious.
"Ruth."
"You can't keep doing this."
Marcus moved between us.
"She's right."
I stared at Daniel.
"Is my father alive?"
Daniel wouldn't meet my eyes.
The footsteps above us stopped.
Then the man upstairs called again.
"Daniel."
This time there was no mistaking the voice.
It was my father's.
My knees weakened.
I pressed one hand against the desk.
The voice came again.
"Bring her to me."
I looked at Daniel.
He whispered, "Don't answer."
"That's his voice."
"I know."
"Then he's alive."
Daniel shook his head.
"Not necessarily."
Marcus looked toward the ceiling.
"Voice recordings can be altered."
I almost shouted.
"That isn't a recording."
The footsteps began descending.
Daniel grabbed my wrist.
"There's another exit."
He opened a narrow panel behind the shelves.
A passage appeared.
I stared at it.
"How many secrets are in this house?"
"Too many."
We moved through the opening.
The passage smelled of damp earth. It was barely wide enough for one person. Daniel went first, then me, then Ruth, with Marcus bringing up the rear.
Behind us, the basement door opened.
A man's footsteps entered the hidden room.
He stopped.
"Daniel."
Nobody answered.
We continued.
The passage ended beneath the old barn.
Daniel pushed aside a wooden panel.
Cold night air rushed over us.
We emerged behind a stack of rotting timber.
Marcus pointed toward the fields.
"There."
A second vehicle waited near the road.
Its engine was running.
Daniel looked at me.
"We have one chance."
"Where are we going?"
"St. Mary's."
"Why?"
"Because Jonah was transferred there."
"Six years ago."
"Yes."
"That doesn't explain where he is now."
Daniel looked at Ruth.
She answered.
"Your mother kept a second set of records."
We crossed the field.
Halfway to the car, a flashlight swept across the grass.
We dropped.
A beam passed over us.
Then moved away.
Marcus whispered, "They're searching the farmhouse."
Daniel waited.
When the light disappeared, we ran.
The car was an old station wagon.
Ruth drove.
Daniel sat beside her.
Marcus and I were in the back.
Nobody spoke for several minutes.
I watched Cedar Hill disappear through the rear window.
Then I asked Marcus, "Why did you save Jonah?"
He stared ahead.
"Because I owed your father."
"What did you owe him?"
"My life."
That wasn't enough.
"What happened?"
Marcus sighed.
"Years before you were born, your father helped me escape your grandfather's company."
"My grandfather?"
"He knew what your grandfather was doing."
"And he worked for him?"
"For a while."
Marcus looked at me.
"I was young. I thought money was the same thing as success."
He told me he had handled property transfers for my grandfather. He had seen forged signatures and fake companies but convinced himself they were ordinary business tactics.
Then one family refused to leave their farm.
The documents were forged.
The police were bribed.
Marcus finally realized what he had become part of.
"My father found out?"
"Thomas found me."
"And helped you?"
"Yes."
"Then why were you involved in the accident?"
Marcus looked away.
"I wasn't."
"Your father said the person arranging the meeting wasn't you."
"I know."
"Who was it?"
He didn't answer.
Daniel did.
"Your grandfather."
I turned toward him.
"He's dead."
"Yes."
"Then how?"
Daniel looked at me.
"Because someone continued his work."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
Daniel said nothing.
We reached St. Mary's just before midnight.
The hospital had changed names, but part of the original building remained. Ruth led us to a records office at the rear.
She produced a key.
I stared at it.
"Where did you get that?"
"Your mother gave it to me."
"When?"
"Three days before she died."
The answer stunned me.
"You saw my mother?"
"Yes."
"She knew she was dying?"
Ruth looked down.
"She knew she was sick."
She unlocked the archive.
Rows of boxes filled the room.
Daniel found the old transfer records.
His fingers moved quickly.
"Here."
He pulled out a folder.
Jonah Avery.
My heart hammered.
Inside was a transfer form.
St. Mary's Children's Wing.
Transferred to private guardian.
No address.
No guardian name.
Only initials.
J.A.
I looked at Daniel.
"That's all?"
He shook his head.
"There should be another page."
We searched the box.
Nothing.
Marcus opened another drawer.
A folded envelope fell out.
My name was written across it.
I recognized my mother's handwriting.
Inside was a photograph.
Jonah at about ten years old.
Older than the photograph Ruth had shown me.
He was standing beside a river.
On the back, my mother had written:
*He believes you are dead.**
I read it twice.
Then beneath it:
*I told him because the people watching him needed to believe it too.**
My hands trembled.
"He's alive."
Daniel nodded.
"Yes."
"Where?"
A small sound came from the hallway.
We froze.
Someone was walking toward the records room.
Ruth closed the drawer.
Marcus reached for the light.
Darkness swallowed us.
The footsteps stopped outside.
Then the door opened.
A man entered.
I could see only his silhouette.
He switched on the light.
It was my father.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
He looked directly at me.
And said my name.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: My Father Was Alive, but His First Question Was About the Recording, Not the Daughter He Had Left Behind
The Night I Pretended to Sleep While My Uncle Whispered a Name I Had Never Heard Before
Part 7 of 20
