Chapter 8: The Second Betrayal
Derrick's voice barely carried across the table.
“My uncle.””
I looked at the photograph again.
The shadow stood behind my father.
Broad shoulders.
Dark jacket.
One hand raised near the garage door.
The face wasn't visible.
But Derrick recognized him.
“How do you know?”” I asked.
“Because I grew up with him.””
“What was his name?””
“Raymond Cole.””
Simone's face changed.
Helen looked at Derrick.
“Your uncle is dead.””
Derrick stared at her.
“I know.””
“When did he die?””
“Two years ago.””
Helen gave a faint smile.
“Then he couldn't have been there.””
Derrick's jaw tightened.
“Unless you lied about that too.””
Helen said nothing.
I turned toward Simone.
“You knew Raymond?””
She nodded.
“He worked for Mom.””
“For how long?””
“Years.””
“What did he do?””
“Whatever she asked.””
I looked at the photograph.
“Was he involved in the accident?””
“Yes.””
My stomach twisted.
“And the forged divorce?””
“Yes.””
“And my father's death?””
Simone hesitated.
“Yes.””
I closed my eyes.
For three years, I had believed my father's death was a tragedy.
Now I was learning it had been a plan.
I opened my eyes.
“Then why is Raymond supposedly dead?””
Derrick answered.
“Because I buried him.””
Everyone looked at him.
He rubbed his face.
“He died two years ago. Cancer.””
Helen stared at him.
“You're lying.””
“I was there.””
“You were not.””
“I signed the paperwork.””
Helen's face tightened.
“Where was the funeral?””
“Private cemetery outside Richmond.””
Simone shook her head.
“That's not Raymond.””
Derrick looked at her.
“What?””
“That man wasn't your uncle.””
He went still.
Simone reached into her bag and pulled out another photograph.
She slid it across the table.
It showed a man in a hospital bed.
Gray hair.
Sunken cheeks.
Thin face.
Derrick picked it up.
His hands began shaking.
“That's Raymond.””
“No,” Simone said.
“It is.””
“Look at the date.””
He did.
His eyes widened.
“This was taken six months ago.””
Helen turned toward Simone.
“You said he died two years ago.””
Derrick looked at Helen.
She said nothing.
I felt cold.
“Where is he now?””
Simone's expression was grim.
“That's the question.””
Derrick looked at me.
“My uncle wasn't working alone.””
“Who else?””
He looked at Vanessa.
She shook her head.
“Don't.””
I stood.
“Say it.””
Derrick swallowed.
“Someone inside your company.””
I frowned.
“Who?””
He didn't answer.
“Derrick.””
“Your chief financial officer.””
I felt the name before he said it.
“Daniel?””
Derrick nodded.
Daniel had worked beside me for fourteen years.
He'd helped me build the company.
He'd attended my father's funeral.
He'd sat beside me during the investigation.
He'd told me my father had been under tremendous stress.
He'd told me the missing money was probably an accounting error.
He'd recommended the mechanic who inspected my brakes.
I sat slowly.
“Oh, God.””
Vanessa looked at me.
“I tried to tell you.””
“When?””
“Three months ago.””
“You slept with Derrick instead.””
Her face tightened.
“I was gathering evidence.””
“You could have told me.””
“Then Mom would have known.””
“She already knew.””
“Not everything.””
Simone stepped forward.
“She knew enough.””
I looked at her.
“What don't I know?””
Simone hesitated.
Then she said:
“Daniel is the one who forged the divorce papers.””
I felt my pulse pounding.
“Why?””
“Because he had access to your signature.””
I remembered every time I'd signed documents at the office.
Every time Daniel had carried paperwork into my office.
Every time he'd said, “Just initial here.””
I looked at Vanessa.
“Did you know?””
She nodded.
“Yes.””
“And you never told me.””
“I was trying to prove it.””
“You had three years.””
“I was afraid.””
I stood.
“Everyone keeps saying they're afraid.””
My voice shook.
“I was afraid too.””
Nobody answered.
I turned toward Helen.
“You ordered my brakes cut.””
She looked at me.
“Yes.””
“You wanted me dead.””
“Yes.””
“You used my wife.””
“Yes.””
“You used Daniel.””
“Yes.””
“You killed my father.””
Helen's expression changed.
“No.””
“You were there.””
“Yes.””
“You lied about everything.””
“I lied about many things.””
“So tell me the one truth that matters.””
Helen stared at me.
“Your father wasn't murdered.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“He died because of what he discovered.””
“That's not an answer.””
“He had a heart attack.””
“You just said he tried to shoot you.””
“He did.””
“Then why was there no gunshot residue on him?””
Helen went silent.
I knew the answer.
Because there had been no gun.
She had lied.
I looked at Simone.
“Did you find the police report?””
“Yes.””
“Was there a gun?””
“No.””
“Then what happened?””
Simone looked at Helen.
“Mom poisoned him.””
Vanessa gasped.
Helen's expression remained cold.
“You have no proof.””
Simone reached into her bag.
“Actually, I do.””
She placed a small plastic evidence bag on the table.
Inside was a tiny glass vial.
My father's name was written on the evidence label.
I stared at it.
“What is that?””
“The residue from the bottle he drank that night.””
Helen's face finally cracked.
I looked at her.
“You poisoned my father.””
She whispered, “He was going to destroy me.””
“You murdered him.””
“He chose his fate.””
“No.””
My voice became quiet.
“You chose it for him.””
Helen looked away.
For the first time, she seemed old.
Then my phone rang.
The screen showed Daniel's name.
Everyone froze.
I answered.
“Daniel?””
Nothing.
Then a man's breathing came through the speaker.
“Marcus.””
I recognized the voice.
It wasn't Daniel.
It was deeper.
Older.
I stood.
“Who is this?””
A pause.
Then:
“You're asking too many questions.””
I looked at Derrick.
He had gone white.
“Raymond?””
The caller laughed.
“Derrick. You always were the clever one.””
Derrick stepped backward.
“You're dead.””
“No.””
The call ended.
My phone immediately buzzed.
A photograph appeared.
It showed Raymond sitting inside a car.
Alive.
And beside him was Daniel.
But the photograph contained one more person.
A woman sitting in the back seat.
Vanessa looked at it.
Her face went completely blank.
I turned toward her.
“Who is that?””
She whispered:
“My mother.””
Helen stared at the phone.
“No.””
The woman in the photograph looked exactly like Helen.
But Helen was standing beside us.
I looked from the photograph to her.
Then back again.
Helen's face drained of color.
Simone whispered:
“That's not Mom.””
The woman in the photograph smiled at the camera.
And I recognized her.
She was the woman who had walked into the restaurant earlier.
The woman Vanessa had called Simone.
The woman everyone thought was dead.
I looked at the woman standing beside me.
Then at the photograph.
There were two Simones.
And suddenly, I understood why Vanessa had looked terrified when her sister first walked through the door.
May you like
She hadn't been afraid because Simone was alive.
She had been afraid because she knew there was another one.