Chapter 7 - What Did Gone Mean?
I held the photograph between us.
“Who is Rebecca?”
Mom’s eyes stayed on it.
Not me.
“Old family friend.”
“Dad wrote daughters.”
“He was sentimental.”
“Try again.”
She looked at Robert.
“Take her home.”
Robert laughed.
“She owns the home.”
Mom’s jaw tightened.
I stepped closer.
“Rebecca.”
“I said enough.”
An officer moved in.
“Mrs. Brooks, we need you to come with us.”
“For what?”
“Questions regarding destruction of potential evidence.”
“I am not under arrest.”
“Not at this moment.”
She looked at me.
Pure hatred.
“This is what you wanted.”
I almost smiled.
“No. Thanksgiving dinner was what I wanted.”
She left.
The storage unit felt colder without her.
Robert bagged the photograph.
I stopped him.
“No.”
“Evidence.”
“It is my father’s.”
“And still evidence.”
I handed it over.
My phone buzzed.
Jason.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
His voice shook.
“Outside your mom’s house.”
“My house.”
“Right.”
“What happened?”
“I found another recording.”
“What recording?”
“Linda and Chloe.”
I looked at Robert.
“Send it.”
He did.
We played it from his phone.
Mom:
“I only need him awake enough to sign.”
Chloe:
“What if he refuses?”
Mom:
“He won’t.”
Chloe:
“What did you give him?”
Mom:
“Nothing dangerous.”
My fingers went numb.
Chloe:
“Mom.”
Mom:
“Stop panicking.”
A door closed in the recording.
Then another voice.
Dad.
Weak.
“Linda?”
Mom:
“Go back to bed.”
Dad:
“Where is Hannah?”
My throat closed.
Mom:
“Seattle.”
Dad:
“Call her.”
Mom:
“Tomorrow.”
Dad:
“Now.”
The audio ended.
I leaned against a storage shelf.
Robert said, “Timestamp?”
Jason answered over speaker.
“Two nights before his 2:17 call.”
I closed my eyes.
Dad had been asking for me.
Mom had told everyone I did not come enough.
She had been blocking access.
Maybe for years.
Jason continued.
“There’s more.”
“Play it.”
“Not audio. A pharmacy receipt.”
“For your prescription?”
“Yes.”
“I lost the bottle two weeks before Thomas died.”
“Where?”
“At Chloe’s apartment.”
Silence.
I looked at Robert.
Jason said, “I thought I left it there.”
I called Chloe.
She answered after four rings.
“What?”
“Jason’s clonazepam.”
Silence.
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
“Megan saw you switching Dad’s pills.”
“I told you. Dad asked me to.”
“When?”
Another silence.
“After he caught me.”
My chest tightened.
“Caught you doing what?”
“Changing them.”
“Why?”
“Mom told me to.”
The words came out in a rush now.
“She said his doctor changed the plan. I believed her.”
“Megan called the doctor.”
“I know.”
“So you knew Mom lied.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Five days before Dad died.”
“And then?”
“Dad caught me.”
“What did he say?”
Chloe started crying.
“He told me not to stop.”
I stared at the phone.
“What?”
“He said if Mom thought I was still helping, she would keep talking around me.”
Robert leaned closer.
“Thomas turned Chloe into a witness.”
Chloe heard.
“He made me photograph everything.”
“Where are the photos?”
“I hid them.”
“Where?”
A pause.
“In Dad’s old tackle box.”
I remembered it.
Garage attic.
Dad had not fished in years.
I turned toward Robert.
“We go.”
Jason said, “Hannah, wait.”
“What?”
“There’s something else in the recording.”
“What?”
“Your mom says ‘gone.’”
“I heard.”
“No. Another one.”
He played it.
Mom’s voice:
“Thomas will be gone before the audit matters.”
Then Chloe:
“You mean dead?”
A long silence.
Mom:
“I mean gone.”
The distinction landed wrong.
Robert’s face changed.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Maybe she wasn’t talking about death.”
“What else?”
He opened Thomas’s corporate records.
One transfer draft.
Assisted living facility.
Private memory-care residence.
Prepared under Thomas’s name.
Unsigned.
Destination:
Arizona.
I stared.
“They were going to move him?”
Robert nodded.
“Maybe.”
Then he noticed the accompanying physician letter.
Signed:
Dr. Elaine Porter.
Diagnosis:
PROGRESSIVE COGNITIVE DECLINE.
My blood went cold.
They had not only been preparing to control his estate.
May you like
They had been preparing to make him disappear while he was still alive.
CUT.
