Chapter 8: Romeo's Father Was Still Alive
I slammed the door.
The security chain rattled as the frame shook.
For several seconds, I stood with my back pressed against the wood, staring at nothing.
Romeo's voice came through the door.
"Please, just listen to me!""
I didn't move.
"My father told everybody he was dead because he had to disappear!""
I grabbed my phone and called building security.
Romeo knocked again, harder this time.
"I'm not trying to hurt you!""
I almost laughed.
That was exactly what someone trying to hurt me would say.
When the security guard answered, I gave him my apartment number and told him there was a man outside my door who needed to leave.
Romeo heard me.
"You're calling security? Seriously?""
I kept the phone against my ear.
"He's refusing to leave," I told the guard.
"Someone is on the way.""
Romeo's footsteps moved away from the door.
Then he spoke one last time.
"If you want to know why your father died, ask your mother what was in the briefcase!""
The elevator doors opened somewhere down the hall.
A moment later, the building fell silent.
I waited until security confirmed that Romeo had left before removing the chain.
My hands were shaking so badly that I struggled to lock the door.
Then I called my mother.
She answered immediately.
"What happened?""
"Romeo came to my apartment.""
"Are you okay?""
"Yes. But he says his father is alive.""
My mother stopped breathing for a moment.
Then she whispered, "Oh, God.""
"He says his father was involved in Dad's death.""
She began crying.
I could hear her moving around the house.
"Come here," she said.
"Right now.""
I grabbed my keys and left.
When I arrived, the porch light was on. My mother opened the door before I reached the steps.
She looked pale and exhausted.
Inside, the old envelope and the telephone bill lay on the kitchen table.
Beside them sat a small photograph I had never seen before.
It showed my father standing beside his car, smiling at the camera. He wore his favorite navy jacket. The background was unfamiliar, perhaps a parking lot outside an office building.
My mother touched the edge of the picture.
"This was taken the afternoon he died.""
I sat beside her.
"Where did you find it?""
"In his desk. I kept it because I couldn't bear to throw it away.""
She looked at me.
"Your father called me that night and said he was bringing something home. I asked him what it was. He said it was the answer we'd been waiting for.""
"The briefcase?""
She nodded.
"He always carried a brown leather briefcase to work. The police returned his wallet and his keys after the accident, but they never gave me a briefcase.""
My stomach tightened.
"Did you ask them about it?""
"Of course I did. They said no briefcase had been recovered from the scene.""
I stared at the photograph.
"If Romeo knows about it, then his father must have told him something.""
"Or Romeo has been looking for it himself.""
The thought settled between us.
For seven years, someone might have been searching for the same missing object my father had tried to bring home.
I called Robert again.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he spoke slowly.
"I need you both to come to my office first thing tomorrow. There are matters I should have investigated more thoroughly years ago.""
My mother leaned toward the phone.
"Do you believe David Hayes is alive?""
"I can't confirm that. But I can tell you that after Malcolm Hayes died, there were irregularities in the company's records. David Hayes was listed as deceased in several documents, but I never saw an independently verified death certificate.""
I felt a chill.
"Then how did everyone believe he was dead?""
"Because the family said so, and because the company had already collapsed. At the time, we had no reason to suspect the information was false.""
My mother covered her mouth.
Robert continued.
"Bring the original note, the telephone bill, and every document your husband left behind. Don't change anything, and don't contact the Hayes family.""
We agreed to meet at nine.
After the call, my mother and I spent another hour searching the house.
We looked through drawers, old filing cabinets, boxes in the attic, and the desk my father had used for years.
We found receipts, birthday cards, and photographs.
We found nothing that explained the missing briefcase.
At midnight, I lay awake in my childhood bedroom, staring at the ceiling.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Selena.
I know you probably don't want to hear from me, but Romeo just showed up at my house asking if I had anything that belonged to his father.
I sat up.
I typed back immediately.
What did you tell him?
Her reply came seconds later.
I told him to get out. Then he said his father was alive.
My stomach dropped.
Did he explain anything?
Selena sent a voice message.
Her voice sounded strained.
"He told me his father disappeared after your dad died. He said Romeo was a kid when it happened, and he grew up believing his father had been killed in a car accident overseas. Then, a few months ago, somebody started sending him money.""
I listened again.
Money.
My fingers moved quickly over the screen.
Who sent him money?
Selena replied with a screenshot.
It showed a bank transfer notification on Romeo's phone, apparently from an account with an unfamiliar company name.
Beneath it was a message.
Your father wants to speak with you. Do not tell anyone until he contacts you again.
The date was four months earlier.
Around the same time Romeo had started asking Jasmine about me.
I called Selena.
She answered in a whisper.
"Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot.""
"You threatened to beat me up.""
"I know.""
"That's putting it mildly.""
She exhaled.
"I was angry. I thought you knew about me. I thought you were laughing at me behind my back.""
"I wasn't.""
"I know that now.""
There was a long pause.
Then she said, "I saw the way Romeo looked at you when you asked him about the ring. He wasn't worried about losing you. He was worried about what you'd find out.""
I leaned against the headboard.
"That's what I'm starting to believe.""
Selena continued.
"He came to my place tonight because he wanted a box of his father's things. He said his mother had given it to me years ago when I was helping them move.""
"Do you have it?""
"Yes. It's in my garage.""
My pulse quickened.
"What's inside?""
"I haven't opened it in years. But Romeo was acting like his life depended on getting it back.""
I glanced toward the bedroom door.
"Don't give it to him.""
"I wasn't planning to.""
"Can you bring it to Robert Ellison tomorrow?""
Selena hesitated.
"Do you really think a lawyer can help us?""
"I don't know. But I know we're not going to solve anything by handing Romeo whatever he wants.""
She agreed to meet us at the attorney's office.
For the first time, Selena and I were working toward the same goal.
Neither of us trusted Romeo.
Neither of us wanted to protect his lies.
And neither of us could ignore the possibility that our lives had been pulled into the same story long before we'd met.
The following morning, my mother and I arrived at Robert's office with the documents.
Selena came ten minutes later, carrying a battered cardboard box.
Robert examined the papers carefully.
He looked at my father's note. He studied the telephone bill. He compared the names on the contracts.
Then he opened the box Selena had brought.
Inside were old photographs, business cards, a few letters, and a small digital voice recorder.
Selena lifted it out.
"I've never seen this before.""
Robert turned it over in his hand.
"Do you know whether it works?""
"I don't know.""
He found a cable in his desk and connected the recorder to his computer.
The screen lit up.
One audio file appeared.
The date beside it was the night my father died.
My mother grabbed my hand.
Robert clicked play.
At first, there was static.
Then a man's voice.
My father's voice.
"If anything happens to me, the documents are in the place David will never think to look.""
A second voice answered.
It was deeper, calmer.
David Hayes.
"You're making a mistake, David.""
My father's reply came immediately.
"No. The mistake was trusting you.""
There was a sharp noise, followed by several seconds of silence.
Then David spoke again.
"Where is the briefcase?""
My father's voice dropped.
"Somewhere your son will never find it.""
The recording ended.
Nobody moved.
Selena stared at the recorder.
My mother pressed a hand over her mouth.
I felt as though I had been dropped into freezing water.
The recording proved that my father had confronted David Hayes.
It proved the missing briefcase mattered.
But it didn't tell us what happened after those final words.
Robert replayed the last ten seconds.
Then he leaned back in his chair.
"This changes everything.""
My mother looked at him.
"Can you use it to reopen the investigation?""
"Potentially. We need to verify the recording's origin and preserve the original device. But this is significant evidence.""
I looked at the screen.
There was a second file.
Its date was two days after my father's death.
Robert clicked it.
A man's voice filled the office.
"David, it's done. The family has been told the accident was unavoidable. You need to leave the country before anybody starts asking questions.""
My blood ran cold.
The voice wasn't my father's.
It wasn't David's, either.
Robert stopped the playback.
He stared at the computer.
"Do any of you recognize that voice?""
Selena shook her head.
My mother looked at me.
I listened to the recording again in my head.
The calm delivery.
The slight rasp.
The way the speaker pronounced the word family.
Then I remembered Romeo standing outside my apartment, looking over his shoulder before he told me his father was alive.
I remembered his frightened expression.
And I realized the voice on the recording belonged to someone who had been close enough to know what happened after my father died.
Someone who had helped cover it up.
I looked at Selena.
She had gone pale.
"That's impossible," she whispered.
"What?"" I asked.
She pointed at the recorder.
"I know that voice.""
Robert turned toward her.
"Whose voice is it?""
Selena swallowed hard.
May you like
Then she looked directly at me.
"It's Romeo's.""