Arthur Whitmore sat across from me with his hands folded on the conference table.
For the first time in all the years I had known him, he couldn’t look me in the eyes.
“Peggy,” he whispered, “there is something I should have told you a long time ago.”
I gripped my walker.
“Arthur, who was driving the second car?”
He closed his eyes.
Nobody spoke.
Laura stood beside the door, holding her telephone.
Emily Harper sat with tears running down her cheeks.
Daniel looked from Arthur to me, waiting.
Finally, Arthur took a deep breath.
“Peggy, the second driver was my younger brother.”
I stared at him.
“Your brother?”
He nodded.
“His name was Robert Whitmore.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t understand.”
Arthur slowly opened his leather folder.
“Robert worked as a private investigator. Walter hired him several weeks before Susan died.”
My heart began pounding.
“Walt hired your brother?”
“Yes.”
“To investigate Kevin?”
“And Patricia.”
I pressed a hand against my chest.
Arthur continued.
“Robert had been following certain financial transactions. Walter believed someone was falsifying documents connected to the family trust.”
I looked at him.
“And Robert was at Miller Bridge that night?”
Arthur nodded.
“He was following Patricia.”
The room went completely silent.
I remembered the old photograph.
Susan standing beside the dark blue car.
Patricia holding a small black bag.
Walt’s warning.
The recordings.
Everything seemed to be moving toward the same terrible moment.
“Arthur,” I whispered, “did Robert hit Susan?”
His face tightened.
“He was driving the approaching vehicle. According to his statement, he swerved when he saw someone step into the roadway. His car struck Susan’s parked vehicle.”
I covered my mouth.
“Then why did nobody tell me?”
Arthur looked ashamed.
“Robert cooperated with the investigation. But he also gave Walter information privately, and I helped preserve those records.”
I stared at him.
“What information?”
Arthur swallowed.
“Information about what happened immediately before the collision.”
My heart hammered.
“Tell me.”
He removed a folded document.
“Robert said he saw Kevin arguing with Susan near the shoulder. Walter was standing between them.”
I gripped the table.
“Go on.”
“Then Patricia arrived in another vehicle.”
My breath caught.
“Patricia was there?”
“According to Robert, yes.”
I looked at Emily.

Her expression had changed.
She was listening carefully.
Arthur continued.
“Robert said Patricia got out and began shouting at Susan. He couldn’t hear everything because he was still approaching.”
“And then?”
“He saw Susan move backward.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did someone push her?”
Arthur hesitated.
“Robert couldn’t establish that. He told investigators he saw movement and then lost sight of her as he rounded the curve.”
I stared at him.
“Then how can Kevin say you know what really happened?”
Arthur’s hands trembled.
“Because Robert later told Walter something he hadn’t been able to explain clearly in his original statement.”
I leaned forward.
“What?”
“He believed another person had been standing beside Patricia.”
The room went silent.
“Who?”
Arthur looked at me with deep sadness.
“Your sister, Eleanor.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Eleanor.
My younger sister.
The woman who had helped me raise Kevin.
The woman I had trusted with my deepest secrets.
“That’s impossible,” I whispered.
Arthur lowered his eyes.
“I wish I could tell you it was.”
I shook my head.
“Eleanor told me she was home that night.”
“That may have been what she told you.”
My throat tightened.
“Did Robert recognize her?”
“Not with certainty. He saw her briefly in poor lighting. Walter believed it was Eleanor, but the identification was never confirmed.”
I looked down at my hands.
My family had been standing on that road together.
Kevin.
Patricia.
Possibly Eleanor.
Walt.
Susan.
And Robert.
Six people connected to a secret that had haunted us for seventeen years.
“Arthur,” I whispered, “what happened after the collision?”
He took a deep breath.
“Robert stopped and called emergency services. Walter was already trying to help Susan.”
I closed my eyes.
“Was she alive?”
Arthur’s voice broke.
“According to the reports, she was critically injured. Emergency responders took her to the hospital.”
I began crying.
“Was Kevin there when they arrived?”
Arthur looked down.
“No. Robert said Kevin drove away before the first responders reached the scene.”
I covered my face.
My son had left his wife injured beside the road.
Whatever caused the collision, he had left.
“Why would he do that?” I whispered.
Arthur shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Then Emily suddenly spoke.
“Because he was afraid of what Susan was going to tell the police.”
We all turned toward her.
She was gripping the edge of the table.
“I didn’t understand it until I heard the recordings.”
I wiped my eyes.
“What do you mean?”
Emily opened the cardboard box she had brought from home.
“There was another letter. I almost forgot about it because it was hidden inside an old birthday card.”
She removed a small folded paper.
“Susan wrote this to me two weeks before she died.”
My heart pounded.
Emily unfolded it.
Then she began reading.
“Emily, if anything happens to me, please don’t believe Kevin when he says I’ve been unstable. I’ve discovered that he and Patricia have been using my identity on financial documents. I think Eleanor helped them. I’m trying to collect proof before I leave.”
I closed my eyes.
My son’s betrayal was even worse than I had imagined.
Emily continued.
“I told Walter everything. He promised to help me. I wish Peggy knew, but I don’t want to break her heart until I’m certain.”
A sob escaped my lips.
Susan had been trying to protect me.
Even while she was frightened for her own safety.
Emily lowered the letter.
“There’s one more sentence.”
I looked up.
She swallowed.
“Susan wrote, ‘If Kevin finds out what I discovered about Patricia, I’m afraid he might hurt her too.’”
The room went completely silent.
I stared at Emily.
“Her?”
She nodded.
“Patricia.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Why would Susan be worried about Patricia if Patricia was helping Kevin?”
Emily shook her head.
“That’s what I couldn’t understand.”
Arthur frowned.
Then he looked at the documents on the table.
“Unless Susan believed Patricia had begun threatening to expose Kevin.”
I thought of the checks.
More than sixty thousand dollars.
The suspicious signatures.
The financial papers.
Could Patricia have been taking money because she knew something about Kevin?
Had their partnership turned against itself?
I looked at Arthur.
“Is that what Walt believed?”
He nodded slowly.
“Walter suspected the payments might have been made to keep Patricia quiet. But he couldn’t establish what she knew.”
I leaned back.
For seventeen years, my family had treated Susan’s death as an accident that was too painful to discuss.
Now it seemed everyone had known part of the truth.
Everyone except me.
“Arthur,” I whispered, “why didn’t you give me these documents after Walt died?”
His eyes filled with regret.
“Because Walter instructed me to preserve the materials until you requested them or there was a clear reason to believe your safety or finances were at risk.”
I stared at him.
“And you thought that was the right thing?”
“At the time, I believed I was respecting his wishes.”
I shook my head.
“You should have told me.”
Arthur lowered his head.
“You’re right, Peggy. I should have made sure you knew there were documents waiting for you.”
For a long time, I said nothing.
Then I looked at Walt’s letter.
My husband had tried to protect me.
But in protecting me from painful truths, he had left me vulnerable to people who knew far more than I did.
I folded the letter and placed it in my purse.
“No more secrets,” I said.
Arthur looked up.
“Peggy?”
“I want everything turned over to the proper investigators. Every letter, every recording, every financial statement.”
He nodded.
“We can arrange that.”
“And I want someone to review the documents Kevin used in his guardianship petition.”
Laura stepped forward.
“We’re already preparing that.”
I looked at Daniel.
“And I want the police to know Kevin sold my car without permission.”
Daniel nodded.
“I’ll give them the messages and the purchase information I have.”
I took a deep breath.
For the first time that morning, I felt something stronger than fear.
I felt anger.
Not the wild kind that makes people say things they regret.
A calm, steady anger that told me I had allowed enough.
Just then, Laura’s telephone rang.
She stepped into the hallway to answer.
A few moments later, she returned.
Her expression had changed.
“Father, there’s someone here asking to see Peggy.”
I frowned.
“Who?”
Laura hesitated.
“Patricia Mercer.”
My stomach dropped.
Arthur stood.
“Did you tell her Peggy was here?”
“No. She said she knew.”
Daniel moved closer to me.
“Mrs. Larson, you don’t have to speak with her.”
I stared toward the door.
Patricia.
My niece.
The woman who had smiled at me through every family holiday while apparently hiding things that could have destroyed my life.
I wanted to see her.
I wanted to ask why.
But I also remembered Walt’s warning.
Please protect yourself.
“Laura,” I said, “tell Patricia I won’t meet with her privately.”
Laura nodded.
“I’ll let her know.”
Before she could leave, a voice came from the hallway.
“Aunt Peg, please!”
Patricia.
Her voice was trembling.
“I know you’re in there!”
I froze.
Arthur stepped toward the door.
“Ms. Mercer, this is a private office. You need to leave.”
“Aunt Peg!” she cried. “Please listen to me!”
I gripped my walker.
Daniel looked at me.
“Don’t let her pressure you.”
I nodded.
Then Patricia shouted something that made everyone stop.
“KEVIN IS GOING TO BLAME ME FOR EVERYTHING!”
The hallway went silent.
Arthur looked back at me.
My heart hammered.
Patricia continued.
“He knows you found the documents! He’s scared! And now he’s telling people I did everything myself!”
I stared at the door.
For seventeen years, Patricia had apparently helped Kevin.
Now she was frightened of him.
“Arthur,” I whispered, “what should we do?”
He thought for a moment.
“She may have information. But you shouldn’t be drawn into an argument. If she wants to make a statement, she can do so through counsel or investigators.”
I nodded.
Laura opened the door just enough to speak with her.
“Patricia, if you have information relevant to these matters, we can discuss appropriate arrangements. But Peggy is not agreeing to a private confrontation.”
Patricia began crying.
“I don’t have much time.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does she mean?” I whispered.
Then Patricia said something that made my blood run cold.
“Kevin knows where the original papers are.”
Arthur stepped closer.
“What original papers?”
“The ones Susan hid.”
The room went silent.
Daniel looked at Emily.
Emily’s face had gone pale.
Patricia continued.
“The lockbox Kevin took from Walt’s workshop. He opened it last night.”
I gripped the table.
“And?”
Patricia’s voice cracked.
“There was something inside that he didn’t know existed.”
My heart hammered.
“What?”
“A letter from Susan.”
Emily stood abruptly.
“She wrote another letter?”
Patricia nodded, tears streaming down her face.
“And photographs.”
Arthur’s expression hardened.
“What photographs?”
Patricia looked directly toward me through the partly open doorway.
“Photographs that show who was standing beside Susan before the collision.”
I felt my breath catch.
“Patricia,” I whispered, “who was it?”
She began shaking.
“Aunt Peg, I need you to understand something.”
“What?”
“I made terrible mistakes. I signed papers. I helped Kevin move money. I lied to you.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“Why?”
She looked down.
“Because I was greedy. And because once I got involved, Kevin threatened to expose everything I’d done.”
I stared at her.
“So you kept going?”
She nodded miserably.
“Yes.”
I felt my heart break.
Patricia continued.
“But I didn’t know Susan was going to die. I swear I didn’t.”
My mouth went dry.
“Then tell me what happened.”
She looked at Arthur.
“Not here.”
Arthur shook his head.
“Patricia, you need independent legal advice before making statements about potentially criminal conduct. We cannot promise confidentiality or protection.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
Then she looked at me again.
“Aunt Peg, Kevin has been keeping something from all of us.”
My heart hammered.
“What?”
Patricia wiped her cheeks.
“Susan didn’t just discover forged financial documents.”
She swallowed.
“She discovered who had been taking money from your husband’s trust.”
I stared at her.
“Kevin?”
Patricia shook her head.
“No.”
“Eleanor?”
“No.”
My chest tightened.
“Then who?”
Patricia looked toward Arthur.
And the expression on her face changed.
It wasn’t anger.
It was fear.
“Ask him,” she whispered.
Arthur stiffened.
“What are you suggesting?”
Patricia reached into her handbag.
She pulled out a folded piece of paper.
Then she handed it to Laura.
“Look at the signature on this.”
Laura unfolded the document.
Her eyes moved slowly across the page.
Then her face went pale.
“Father…”
Arthur took the paper.
For a moment, he didn’t move.
Then he sank into a chair.
I felt my stomach drop.
“Arthur?”
He didn’t answer.
“Arthur, what is it?”
He looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.
The expression of a man whose own past had finally found him.
Patricia stepped backward.
“Aunt Peg,” she whispered, “I didn’t know until last night.”
I gripped my walker.
“Know what?”
She pointed toward the document.
“The person who authorized the first suspicious transfer from Walt’s trust wasn’t Kevin.”
I looked at Arthur.
He was staring at the signature.
Patricia continued.
“It wasn’t my mother.”
My heart pounded.
“It wasn’t me.”
I could barely breathe.
“Then who was it?”
Patricia looked directly at the elderly attorney.
“IT WAS ARTHUR WHITMORE.”
The room went completely silent.
Arthur slowly raised his head.
And the next words he spoke made me feel as though the ground had disappeared beneath me.
“PEGGY, I CAN EXPLAIN THE SIGNATURE. BUT FIRST, YOU NEED TO KNOW WHY WALTER STOPPED TRUSTING MY BROTHER.”
END OF PART 9 — TO BE CONTINUED…

PART 10 — THE ATTORNEY WHO KNEW WHERE MY HUSBAND’S MONEY WENT

For seventeen years, I had believed Arthur Whitmore was one of the few people my husband trusted completely.
Now my niece stood in his office, accusing him of authorizing a suspicious transfer from Walt’s family trust.
And Arthur wasn’t denying the signature.
He was sitting across from me, staring at the document as though it had brought a ghost into the room.
“Arthur,” I whispered, “please tell me this isn’t true.”
He slowly raised his head.
“Peggy, the signature is mine.”
My stomach dropped.
Daniel stepped closer to my chair.
Laura looked at her father in disbelief.
Patricia stood beside the doorway, clutching her handbag with both hands.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
“Why?” I asked.
Arthur closed his eyes.
“Because I trusted my brother.”
The room went silent.
“Robert?” I whispered.
He nodded.
“Robert Whitmore. The investigator Walter hired to look into Kevin and Patricia.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t understand.”
Arthur pulled the document closer.
“Seventeen years ago, Walter became concerned about irregularities in the administration of Martin’s estate. Robert was helping him trace the transactions.”
“And?”
“Robert brought me documents he said Walter had approved. One authorized a transfer into an account that was supposed to hold funds temporarily during a property transaction.”
I stared at him.
“How much money?”
Arthur hesitated.
“One hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
My breath caught.
One hundred and eighty thousand.
While Walt and I had been living carefully on our savings, someone had been moving money connected to his inheritance.
“Where did it go?”
“That’s what Walter eventually wanted to know.”
I felt anger rising.
“You signed the authorization, Arthur.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ask Walt first?”
Arthur lowered his eyes.
“No.”
The word landed between us like a stone.
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
Then I whispered, “You were his attorney.”
“I know.”
“He trusted you.”
“I know.”
“And you signed something involving his money without speaking to him?”
Arthur’s eyes filled with tears.
“It was a terrible professional failure, Peggy. I should have verified the instructions directly.”
Laura slowly sat down.
“Father, why didn’t you tell me about this?”
Arthur looked at his daughter.
“Because I believed the problem had been resolved.”
I stared at him.
“Resolved?”
He took a deep breath.
“Robert told me the funds had been returned.”
“Had they?”
Arthur said nothing.
My hands began shaking.
“Arthur, had they?”
“I later learned the records were incomplete.”
I looked away.
Another person my husband trusted had concealed something.
Another secret.
Another explanation that came seventeen years too late.
Patricia suddenly spoke.
“Tell her about Robert’s account.”
Arthur stiffened.
“Patricia, you don’t know the whole story.”
“Then tell it.”
I turned toward her.
“Patricia, what account?”
She looked at me.
“The account where the money actually went.”
Arthur rubbed his forehead.
“Peggy, we need independent review of these records. I cannot continue advising you on matters involving my own conduct.”
Laura nodded immediately.
“Father, that’s right.”
But I wasn’t finished.
“Arthur, I’m not asking you to represent me right now. I’m asking you to tell me what happened.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said, “The money was transferred to a company Robert controlled.”
My heart stopped.
“What company?”
“Northbridge Holdings.”
Daniel frowned.
“Was it a real business?”
“Yes. But Robert used it for investments and private transactions. The account was not supposed to receive that money.”
I gripped my walker.
“And did he give it back?”
Arthur shook his head.
“Not all of it, according to what Walter later discovered.”
I closed my eyes.
The money.
The documents.
The bridge.
The lies.
Everything seemed to lead back to Robert Whitmore.
“Where is Robert now?” I asked.
Arthur didn’t answer immediately.
Then he whispered, “He died eight years ago.”
I felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat.
“Of course he did.”
Everyone I needed answers from seemed to be dead.
Walt.
Susan.
Eleanor.
Robert.
And the people who were still alive had spent years telling me only what they wanted me to hear.
“Arthur,” I said quietly, “did Walt know you signed that document?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“Was he angry?”
Arthur’s voice cracked.
“Very.”
I looked down at my wedding ring.
For all those years, Walt had carried the knowledge that his own attorney had helped move money without proper authorization.
No wonder he had hidden records.
No wonder he had feared someone would steal what was supposed to protect me.
“Why did he keep you as his attorney?” I asked.
Arthur swallowed.
“Because he wanted access to the records and believed I could help recover the money. But he no longer trusted Robert.”
I shook my head.
“And you never told me.”
“No.”
Arthur lowered his head.
“I’m deeply sorry, Peggy.”
I looked at him for a long time.
Then I said, “Sorry doesn’t give me back seventeen years.”
He nodded.
“You’re right.”
Laura stood.
“Peggy, I need to tell you something. Because my father’s actions are now part of this matter, you should have an attorney who is independent of our firm.”
I looked at her.
“Will that cost a fortune?”
“We can help you arrange an initial consultation, but the independent attorney will explain any fees and representation agreement.”
I nodded.
“All right.”
Then I looked at Arthur.
“I don’t want anything destroyed.”
His expression changed.
“Of course not.”
“Every record. Every letter. Every bank statement. Everything Walt gave you.”
Laura nodded.
“We’ll preserve the materials and cooperate with any appropriate investigation.”
I felt a little stronger.
Then Patricia suddenly stepped forward.
“Aunt Peg, there’s something else.”
I turned toward her.
“What now?”
She looked frightened.
“Robert wasn’t working alone.”
Arthur’s face tightened.
“Patricia…”
She ignored him.
“He was receiving information from someone inside the family.”
I stared at her.
“Kevin?”
She shook her head.
“Not originally.”
“Eleanor?”
“She helped with documents, but she wasn’t the person who started it.”
My heart hammered.
“Then who?”
Patricia looked down at her hands.
Then she whispered, “Me.”
The room fell silent.
I stared at her.
“You?”
She nodded, tears gathering in her eyes.
“I was helping Robert before Susan found out.”
I felt sick.
“Why?”
“Because he promised me money.”
I shook my head.
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand dollars at first.”
I stared at her.
Twenty thousand dollars.
My niece had helped an outsider obtain information about our family finances for twenty thousand dollars.
“And what did you do?” I asked.
Patricia began crying.
“I gave him copies of documents Kevin had brought home. I told him where Walter kept certain papers. I helped arrange meetings.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did you know he was taking money?”
“Not at the beginning.”
“And later?”
She nodded miserably.
“Yes.”
I felt something inside me turn cold.
“Then why didn’t you stop?”
“Because by then I had signed papers and accepted money. Robert threatened to expose me.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Patricia, these are serious admissions. You need legal advice, and investigators should assess the documents.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
But I was looking at her face.
For years, Patricia had called me Aunt Peg.
She had hugged me at Christmas.
She had helped Kevin sort through my husband’s belongings.
And all that time, she had been hiding her role in something that had almost destroyed my financial security.
“Patricia,” I whispered, “did Susan know?”
She began crying harder.
“Yes.”
My heart stopped.
“How much?”
“She found some of the payments. She confronted me.”
“And what did you tell her?”
Patricia looked down.
“I told her to stay out of it.”
I remembered the recording.
Susan’s frightened voice.
Patricia’s threats.
The night at Miller Bridge.
“Patricia,” I said, “were you there when Susan died?”
She went completely still.
The room seemed to shrink around us.
Finally, she nodded.
“Yes.”
My breath caught.
“Tell me what happened.”
She looked at Arthur.
Then at Laura.
Then back at me.
“I went there because Robert told me Susan was going to give Walter the financial records.”
I gripped the table.
“Robert was there too?”
“Yes.”
I felt cold.
“What did you do?”
Patricia’s voice trembled.
“I argued with Susan. I wanted the papers.”
“And Kevin?”
“He was angry. He’d found out she was leaving him.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did anyone hurt her?”
Patricia began shaking.
“I didn’t push Susan. I swear I didn’t.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She wiped her face.
“I saw Kevin grab her arm.”
My heart hammered.
“And?”
“She pulled away. Walter stepped between them.”
I pictured my husband standing on that dark road, trying to protect a frightened young woman.
Patricia continued.
“Robert’s car came around the bend. Susan moved backward. I heard tires screech.”
Her voice broke.
“Then everything happened.”
I covered my mouth.
“Did Kevin push her?”
Patricia shook her head.
“I couldn’t see clearly enough to say.”
I stared at her.
“Then why did you all lie?”
She looked at me through her tears.
“Because Kevin panicked. Robert said the investigation would expose the financial documents. Eleanor begged everyone not to ruin the family.”
I felt physically sick.
So many people had been more concerned about money and reputations than about Susan.
“What did you tell the police?” I asked.
Patricia lowered her head.
“I didn’t tell them I was at the bridge.”
I couldn’t speak.
“You weren’t mentioned in the investigation?”
“No.”
“And Eleanor?”
“Neither was she.”
Arthur leaned forward.
“Patricia, you need to provide an accurate account to investigators, with legal counsel if you choose. This cannot be resolved by discussing it privately.”
She nodded.
“I understand.”
Then Patricia looked at me.
“Aunt Peg, I know you hate me.”
I stared at her.
“Hate isn’t the word.”
Her face crumpled.
“Then what?”
I felt tears roll down my cheeks.
“Disappointed.”
She began sobbing.
“Because I helped raise you,” I whispered. “And somewhere along the way, you decided money mattered more than the people who loved you.”
Patricia covered her face.
I looked away.
I had no strength left to comfort her.
Just then, Daniel’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen.
His expression changed.
“Mrs. Larson, it’s Kevin.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does he want?”
Daniel read the message.
Then he looked at Patricia.
“He’s asking whether she’s here.”
Patricia went pale.
“Don’t answer.”
Daniel frowned.
“Why?”
She looked terrified.
“Because he’s been looking for me since last night.”
My heart hammered.
“What happened last night?”
Patricia swallowed.
“He opened Susan’s blue lockbox.”
I nodded slowly.
“You told us.”
“But I didn’t tell you everything.”
I stared at her.
“What else was inside?”
She reached into her handbag.
Then stopped.
“Before I show you, I need you to understand something.”
My patience finally snapped.
“Patricia, I am seventy-nine years old. I broke my hip. My son sold my car, kept the money, and tried to have me declared incapable. I have spent two days discovering that almost everyone I trusted has lied to me.”
My voice trembled.
“Stop telling me what I need to understand. Just tell me the truth.”
Patricia stared at me.
Then she slowly unzipped her handbag.
She removed a small black object wrapped in a handkerchief.
It was a portable audio recorder.
Old.
Scratched.
With a cracked plastic cover.
My heart began pounding.
“What is that?”
Patricia looked at Emily.
“Susan’s recorder.”
Emily leaned forward.
“I thought she used cassette tapes.”
“She did. But she also borrowed this from someone.”
“Who?”
Patricia swallowed.
“Robert.”
Arthur stiffened.
“My brother?”
She nodded.
“He gave it to Susan to record conversations about the financial documents. He thought she might help him identify who had copies.”
I stared at the device.
“Why would Robert help Susan if he was stealing money?”
Patricia looked down.
“Because he was trying to protect himself. He was afraid Kevin would expose his role.”
I felt dizzy.
Everyone had been using everyone else.
Nobody had been telling the truth.
Patricia continued.
“Kevin found the recorder in the lockbox last night. He tried to erase what was on it.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Did he succeed?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I took it before he could finish.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
She began crying again.
“Because I finally listened to it.”
The room went silent.
Arthur leaned forward.
“What did you hear?”
Patricia’s lips trembled.
“Something Susan recorded on the night she died.”
My heart hammered.
“Another recording?”
She nodded.
“The sound is terrible. But you can hear people arguing.”
I gripped my walker.
“Can you hear Kevin?”
“Yes.”
“Robert?”
“Yes.”
“Patricia, can you hear yourself?”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
I felt sick.
“Then why did you bring it here?”
She looked directly at me.
“Because there’s a voice on it that none of us expected.”
Arthur frowned.
“Whose?”
Patricia shook her head.
“Listen.”
Laura immediately spoke.
“We should preserve the device and avoid changing anything on it. A qualified examiner can recover and assess the recording.”
Patricia nodded.
“I made a copy last night before I left.”
She handed Laura a small drive.
Laura placed it on the table without connecting it.
“We’ll arrange proper handling,” she said.
But Patricia looked at me.
“Aunt Peg, I heard enough to know Kevin has been lying about one very important thing.”
My heart hammered.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“Who Susan was speaking to when she called for help.”
I stared at her.
“Walt?”
Patricia shook her head.
“No.”
My breath caught.
“Then who?”
She looked toward the doorway.
And for the first time, I saw genuine terror in her eyes.
“The person who answered Susan’s call was someone who knew Kevin’s financial secrets.”
I frowned.
“Arthur?”
“No.”
“Robert?”
“No.”
My heart pounded.
“Patricia, who was it?”
She opened her mouth.
But before she could answer, a loud crash came from the hallway.
Everyone jumped.
Laura hurried toward the door.
A man was shouting at the receptionist.
“I know she’s here!”
My blood turned cold.
Kevin.
My son.
The man who had sold my car while I lay in a hospital bed.
The man who wanted control of my money.
The man I had spent fifty-two years loving.
His voice grew louder.
“Tell Patricia to come out!”
Arthur stood.
“Laura, call building security.”
Daniel moved closer to my chair.
Patricia began shaking uncontrollably.
Then Kevin shouted something that made the entire room go silent.
“YOU THINK THAT RECORDING PROVES ANYTHING? PLAY THE WHOLE THING!”
My heart stopped.
He knew.
Kevin knew exactly what Patricia had brought.
I looked at her.
“Patricia,” I whispered, “what’s on that recording?”
She began crying.
Then she said something I will never forget.
“AUNT PEG, SUSAN DIDN’T CALL WALT FIRST THAT NIGHT.”
I gripped the table.
“Who did she call?”
Patricia looked directly at me.
Her voice was barely audible.
“SHE CALLED YOU.”
The room seemed to disappear.
I stared at her.
“Me?”
Patricia nodded.
“And someone answered your telephone.”
My heart began pounding.
“Who?”
Tears streamed down her face.
Then she whispered the words that made my entire body go cold.
“THE PERSON WHO ANSWERED PRETENDED TO BE YOU.”
I couldn’t move.
Because suddenly, I remembered something from seventeen years ago.
A night when I had taken cold medicine and gone to bed early.
A night when Eleanor had stayed at my house.
A night when my sister told me the telephone hadn’t rung once.
And now I understood why Walt had spent the rest of his life searching for the truth.
END OF PART 10 — TO BE CONTINUED…

Click Here to continuous Read​​​​ Full Ending Story PART 11 — THE PHONE CALL MY SISTER HID FOR SEVENTEEN YEARS