Chapter 8 - The RecordingThat night, I listened to my father's recording seventeen times.
The final sentence kept haunting me.
The person you need to fear is neither of them.
Neither Mom nor Amanda.
Then who?
Victor?
Maybe.
But Dad had left enough evidence to suggest Victor was only one piece.
At midnight, I noticed something strange about the tape recorder.
The battery compartment was newer than the rest.
I opened it.
There was a tiny memory card hidden beneath the battery.
I inserted it into my laptop.
A folder appeared.
HARBOR_2.
Inside were audio files.
The first was dated eight years ago.
I played it.
My father's voice.
Then Mom.
"I told you Claire can't know."
My blood went cold.
Dad answered.
"She's my daughter."
Mom:
"She's also the only person who can sign."
I stopped the recording.
Only person who could sign what?
I played it again.
Then I heard Amanda.
"You don't understand. If she learns about the trust, she'll take everything."
Dad:
"That's exactly what she should do."
Amanda:
"Mom won't let her."
Mom:
"Neither will you."
Silence.
Then Dad said something that made me freeze.
"Do you know what happens if Claire signs without reading?"
Mom answered.
"She becomes responsible for all of it."
Amanda laughed softly.
"For the debt?"
Dad:
"For the fraud."
I slammed the laptop shut.
They had planned to make me legally responsible for crimes I didn't commit.
My name would carry the companies.
The debts.
The transfers.
The fraud.
And they would walk away.
Thanksgiving would be the final move.
But there was another recording.
I played it.
My father sounded exhausted.
"I know what you did."
A man's voice answered.
Victor.
"You know nothing."
"I know the accounts."
"You can't prove them."
"I don't need to."
Silence.
Then Victor said:
"You should think about your daughters."
The recording ended.
I stared at the screen.
That wasn't a threat against Dad.
It was a threat against us.
I finally understood why he had died afraid.
My mother had been protecting Amanda.
Amanda had been protecting herself.
Victor had been protecting the entire operation.
And I had unknowingly been the final signature.
At 2:18 a.m., my phone buzzed.
A message from Mom.
I know you're listening to his recordings.
I stared.
Another text arrived.
Come home before Thanksgiving.
Then:
I will tell you everything.
I typed:
Why should I trust you?
Her answer arrived instantly.
Because your father wasn't killed by Victor.
I stopped breathing.
Another message.
And if you don't come back, the real killer will know you found out.
I read the sentence again.
Then again.
Mom claimed my father had been killed.
And she claimed Victor hadn't done it.
Which meant there was another person.
Someone closer.
May you like
Much closer.
Someone I had trusted for eight years.
