Chapter 12 - Richard’s Voice
Samuel lived outside Fredericksburg.
We drove there the next morning.
All three of my children came.
Margaret insisted on it.
“If we are going to open old graves,” she said, “everyone gets to see what climbs out.”
Samuel met us in a workshop that smelled like cedar and machine oil.
He had aged, but his handshake was still strong.
He looked at me for a long moment.
“Richard loved you more than was probably healthy.”
I almost smiled.
“That sounds like him.”
Samuel opened a metal lockbox.
Inside was a small digital recorder wrapped in a dish towel.
“Richard gave this to me three weeks before he died.”
Laura whispered, “Why?”
“Because he didn’t trust David.”
Samuel pressed play.
Richard’s voice filled the room.
Weak, breathy, unmistakable.
“If you’re hearing this, Elena, then I was right to worry.”
My knees nearly folded.
Ten years disappeared in one sentence.
I sat down.
Richard continued.
“David came to see me at the hospital without Laura. He asked about Lake Azul. Then he asked what would happen if Elena became unable to manage the estate.”
Fiona covered her mouth.
Richard coughed on the recording.
“He said he was only trying to help. I didn’t believe him.”
Then came another voice.
Younger.
David.
“Richard, nobody’s trying to take anything.”
My skin went cold.
Richard answered, “Then stop asking me how soon she inherits everything.”
The room was dead silent.
On the recording, David laughed nervously.
“You’re sick. I’m trying to understand the family structure.”
“You’re trying to understand the fastest path to control.”
Samuel stopped the recording.
Michael looked sick.
“There’s more?”
“Yes.”
The next section was worse.
David said, “Laura will never stand up to Elena. She’ll cave every time.”
Then, quieter: “But once the paperwork is in place, Elena won’t need to agree.”
Laura started sobbing.
I looked at my daughter.
She looked destroyed.
Not because she had lost property.
Because she finally heard her husband describe her as a tool.
Samuel turned off the recorder.
“There’s one more thing,” he said.
He pulled an envelope from the lockbox.
“Richard made me promise to give this only to Elena if David ever tried to take control of the estate.”
I opened it.
Inside was a single page.
At the top, in Richard’s handwriting, were the words:
May you like
THE ACCOUNT DAVID DOESN’T KNOW ABOUT.
