Chapter 13 - The Sister's Version of the Truth
Brooke arrived at the state bureau's interview facility shortly after sunrise.
She wore a gray sweater, black trousers, and no jewelry. Her hair was pulled back, and her face was pale enough to make her look sick.
For the first time since I had returned home, she did not look like someone who expected the world to rearrange itself for her.
She looked like someone who had realized the world might finally stop believing her.
Lieutenant Reed arranged for me to observe the interview from a separate room with Rachel. Elena remained at the hospital, accompanied by a victim advocate and a security officer.
Brooke sat across from two investigators.
A recorder was placed on the table.
She looked at it, then at the closed door.
"I want protection," she said.
"Protection from whom?" one investigator asked.
"Alan Mercer. Patrick Rourke. Vanessa Cole. Anyone connected to Northstar."
"What about your mother?"
Brooke looked away.
"I don't know what she's told you."
"Tell us what you know."
She pressed her hands together.
"I didn't know they were going to hurt Elena."
The investigator waited.
Brooke continued.
"I thought the documents were about property. My mother said there was an inheritance issue, and Alan Mercer told me the house might contain records that belonged to the government. He said they needed to be recovered before they were destroyed."
"Did you believe him?"
"At first."
"And later?"
She lowered her eyes.
"Later, I knew it wasn't just about documents."
"What changed?"
"Elena found the box."
The investigator made a note.
"Describe what happened."
Brooke swallowed.
"She went into the basement looking for the deed. She found the hidden compartment. My mother called me and said Elena had discovered something that could get all of us into trouble."
"What did you do?"
"I went to the house."
"Why?"
"To get the box."
"Did you know what was inside?"
"No."
"Did you know Vanessa Cole was coming?"
Brooke nodded.
"Yes."
"Did you know Sheriff Rourke had been involved?"
"Not at first."
The investigator leaned forward.
"Ms. Hayes, we're going to establish the timeline. You will have an opportunity to explain your actions. But if you leave out important facts, we will find them elsewhere."
Brooke's eyes filled with tears.
"I know."
She described how Vanessa had searched the basement while Brooke and Diane questioned Elena upstairs. When Elena refused to reveal the location of the key, Vanessa threatened to call the police and claim that Elena had attacked them.
Brooke admitted that she had taken Elena's phone and helped lock the basement door.
She also admitted that she had seen the bruises.
When asked why she had not called for medical assistance, she said she believed Elena was conscious and that the injuries were not serious.
The investigator showed her the photographs from the night I returned.
Brooke looked away.
"She was still breathing," she whispered.
"That wasn't my question," the investigator replied. "Why did you leave her outside?"
Brooke covered her mouth.
"My mother told me it would only be for a few minutes. She wanted Elena to believe we were serious about making her sign."
"And then?"
"Then the sheriff called. He said the weather was getting worse and we needed to bring her inside before anyone saw her."
"Why didn't you?"
Brooke began to cry.
"Because I heard a car coming. I thought it was Daniel."
I stared at the screen.
She knew.
She had known I might arrive.
She had left my wife outside anyway.
The investigator let the silence settle before speaking again.
"Who drove your father's car on the night of his accident?"
Brooke froze.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Your mother says you were driving."
"She's lying."
"We have evidence that the vehicle was moved before emergency services arrived."
Brooke looked toward the door.
"I want a lawyer."
"That's your right. Before we pause, I need to ask one more question. Did you help stage the scene after your father's death?"
She began to tremble.
"No."
"Did you know Caleb Voss was alive after his reported death?"
"No."
"Did you ever meet a man using the name Marcus Hale?"
Brooke stared at the table.
Then she whispered, "Yes."
The interview was paused so she could consult counsel.
Rachel turned off the monitor.
"She's withholding something."
"She admitted helping lock Elena in the basement."
"That doesn't mean she was involved in your father's death. But the timing and the changing stories require further investigation."
I paced the small room.
"She knows who drove the car. She knows who took my father to the meeting. She knows why the box was in our house."
Rachel stood.
"We'll get the answers."
I turned toward the screen.
"Why would she accuse Elena of killing Caleb?"
"Because she needs a story that moves suspicion away from herself. Or because someone promised her protection if she cooperated."
I thought about the false property transfer and the identity of the man in the hospital uniform.
Brooke had spent years manipulating people by telling them exactly what they wanted to hear. If she was now cooperating with investigators, she might be doing the same thing.
The question was whether she was finally telling the truth about something.
At 10:15 a.m., Reed returned.
"Brooke has agreed to provide a written statement in exchange for consideration as a cooperating witness. The prosecutor has not promised immunity, and she remains under investigation for her own conduct."
"What did she tell you?"
"She says Alan Mercer arranged the meeting with your father seven years ago. She was instructed to drive him to the railway yard, leave the vehicle there, and return alone."
"Who gave the instructions?"
"She claims Mercer did."
"Did my father know?"
"She says she thought he was being taken to meet a government investigator who could clear his name."
"Did she see him after the meeting?"
Reed took a breath.
"She says she saw him again three months after the funeral."
My hands went cold.
"Where?"
"At the Northstar Annex."
"Was he alone?"
"No. She says he was with a woman whose name she didn't know."
"Vanessa?"
"She couldn't identify her. The woman wore a dark coat and a ring with a square black stone."
I thought of the fake nurse.
"What happened?"
"Brooke says she followed them inside. She overheard an argument about a missing ledger. Your father told the woman he had already sent copies to someone he trusted."
"Who?"
"She didn't hear the name. But she says the woman threatened to expose a secret about your mother."
I sat down.
"Why didn't Brooke tell us this before?"
"She claims she was afraid. She says Mercer offered to help her financially if she kept quiet and helped retrieve the remaining records."
"How much money?"
"Enough to cover the debts from her failed business."
I laughed once, without humor.
"So she sold her conscience for a business bailout."
Reed didn't disagree.
"There is more," he said. "Brooke says the ledger was not the only record your father kept. He also maintained a handwritten account of every person who received money."
"Where is it?"
"She believes it's in the Northstar Annex, inside a wall behind the old office."
Rachel pulled the property map from her folder.
"The eastern door."
Reed nodded.
"Possibly."
I looked at the map.
There were several service corridors and loading entrances. One structure had been added to the property after the original warehouse was built. The plans showed a door at the eastern end of the building, but it did not appear on the more recent public records.
"Why would the plans omit a door?" I asked.
"Renovations can change layouts," Reed said. "We'll compare the original plans with the current structure before drawing conclusions."
He called the team investigating the annex and requested a fresh review of the eastern wall.
They reported back twenty minutes later.
A false partition had been found behind a row of storage cabinets. Beyond it was a narrow corridor leading to a locked steel door.
The lock had been replaced recently.
And on the floor just inside the corridor, investigators had found a small amount of blood.
Not enough to identify the source.
But enough to suggest someone had been injured there.
I looked at Reed.
"Could my father have been held inside?"
"It's possible."
"Can they open the door?"
"The team is documenting the lock before gaining entry."
I took a slow breath.
"If he's alive, he may be in danger."
"We understand."
I wanted to be there.
I wanted to stand at the eastern door and call my father's name.
But I stayed where I was, because my presence would not make the investigation faster or safer.
At 11:42 a.m., Reed received an alert from the team.
The steel door had been opened.
Behind it was a small room containing a desk, a cot, a sink, and a wall covered in photographs.
Several photographs showed my father.
Some showed him at the railway yard.
Some showed him entering the house.
One showed him standing outside Elena's hospital room.
The latest image had been taken less than three hours earlier.
He was alive when the camera captured it.
On the desk, investigators found a notebook with my father's handwriting and a page torn from a calendar.
The page was marked with today's date.
Beneath it were two words.
FINAL WITNESS.
I stared at the message.
"Who is the witness?" I asked.
Reed studied the evidence.
"We believe it's you."
My phone vibrated.
A text had arrived from the same unknown number that had sent the hospital photograph.
You found the door.
Another message followed.
Now ask your mother why she gave us your name.
I turned toward the corridor.
My mother was standing outside the interview room, waiting for news.
When our eyes met, she began shaking her head.
"Daniel, don't listen to them."
I looked down at the message.
Then back at her.
"What did you give them, Mom?"
She closed her eyes.
May you like
And for the first time, she answered without trying to protect herself.
"My son's name."
