Chapter 4: The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
For eleven years, I had kept one photograph of my father on my office desk.
He was smiling in it, wearing a gray suit, with one hand resting on my shoulder. I had looked at that photograph every morning, believing I would never hear his voice again.
Now his name was flashing across my phone.
*DAD.*
I couldn't move.
Vanessa stood on the other side of the desk, her eyes fixed on the screen.
“Don't answer it,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“Why?””
“Because I don't know who's calling.””
I almost laughed.
“The caller ID says my father.””
“Darius, your father is supposed to be dead.””
“That makes two of us who understand the situation.””
The phone continued vibrating.
I pressed the green button.
“Hello?””
For three seconds, there was nothing.
Then a familiar voice spoke.
“Darius.””
My knees weakened.
It was older, rougher, but unmistakable.
“Dad?””
A quiet breath came through the speaker.
“My boy.””
I grabbed the edge of the desk.
“Where are you? Where have you been?””
“I don't have much time.””
“Eleven years! You don't have much time?””
“I know.””
“You let me bury an empty coffin. You let me believe I had lost you!””
His voice broke.
“I did what I thought would keep you alive.””
I looked at Vanessa.
She had moved toward the door.
“Wait,” I said into the phone.
“I'm not doing this without answers. Who is Vanessa Cole?””
Silence.
Then my father said something I would never forget.
“She's the reason you're still alive.””
Vanessa closed her eyes.
I turned toward her.
“What does that mean?””
My father continued.
“Listen carefully. Do not trust the documents she gives you. Do not trust Leonard. And under no circumstances should you go home.””
“Why?””
“Because Camille knows you're looking for me.””
I felt my throat tighten.
“How does she know?””
“Because she's been listening to every conversation you've had since you married her.””
I stared at the phone.
“What?””
“Darius, the woman you married wasn't supposed to fall in love with you. She was supposed to find something.””
“What was she looking for?””
“An original deed. A black ledger. Something I hid before the warehouse incident.””
I glanced at the folder on the desk.
“What's in the ledger?””
“Proof of who owned the company before it became yours.””
“And who owned it?””
My father took a breath.
“Not me. Not Andre. And certainly not Camille.””
A noise came through the phone.
A door closing.
My father lowered his voice.
“I need you to find the original recording. It will explain everything.””
“Where?””
“Your childhood home.””
“That house was sold.””
“No. It wasn't.””
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?””
“There's a room behind the old library wall. Your mother knew about it.””
My mother had died when I was seventeen.
I looked down.
“Dad, I don't understand.””
“You will.””
Then his voice changed.
“Darius, whatever happens, don't let Camille get the key.””
“What key?””
“The one Vanessa has.””
I turned sharply.
Vanessa was standing by the door.
Her right hand was inside her coat pocket.
“Dad, wait!””
The call disconnected.
I tried calling back.
The number was unavailable.
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the sound of my own breathing.
Then Vanessa slowly removed her hand from her coat.
She was holding a small brass key.
I stared at it.
“Give it to me.””
She shook her head.
“I can't.””
“My father just told me not to let you have it.””
“Your father told you that because he knows what happens if Camille gets it.””
“Then why do you have it?””
Vanessa looked at me.
“Because I stole it from her.””
An hour later, we were driving toward the northern suburbs.
Vanessa sat beside me, holding the brass key in her lap.
I had asked her six times to explain who she really was.
She had refused six times.
On the seventh, I stopped the car outside a gas station.
“Enough.””
She looked at me.
“What?””
“Tell me the truth. No more mysterious documents. No more half-answers. Who are you?””
Vanessa stared through the windshield.
“My name is Vanessa Cole. I was born in Chicago. I spent most of my childhood in Atlanta. My mother worked for a private investment firm.””
“And your father?””
“I never knew him.””
“Your brother?””
“I never had one.””
I went completely still.
She turned toward me.
“The man in those photographs was my biological father. Andre Cole raised me as his daughter, but he wasn't my brother.””
I remembered the newspaper clipping.
The business registration.
The photograph of Vanessa standing with Andre.
“You lied about everything.””
“I was protecting myself.””
“From whom?””
“Camille.””
I shook my head.
“Camille thinks you're her mistress.””
Vanessa let out a bitter laugh.
“That's what she wanted you to believe.””
“Why?””
“Because she needed you to hate me. If you believed I was sleeping with your wife, you wouldn't listen to anything I said.””
I stared at her.
“Were you?””
“No.””
“Did you ever have a relationship with her?””
Vanessa hesitated.
“Not the kind you're imagining.””
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“Explain.””
She looked down at the key.
“Eleven years ago, Camille and I were working together. She was supposed to help Andre transfer his shares into a protected trust. Instead, she helped your father move the assets into a company controlled by people he couldn't trust.””
“Why would my father do that?””
“Because someone was threatening your life.””
I turned toward her.
“Who?””
Vanessa opened her mouth.
Then she stopped.
A black SUV had entered the gas station.
It moved slowly past the pumps.
The driver looked directly at us.
Vanessa grabbed my arm.
“Start the car.””
I turned the ignition.
The SUV stopped behind us.
A man stepped out.
He wore a gray suit and held a phone against his ear.
I recognized him.
He was the man who had entered Vanessa's house.
“Darius,” Vanessa whispered.
“That's not one of Marcus's men.””
“Then whose is he?””
She swallowed.
“Your father's.””
Before I could respond, my phone rang.
A text appeared from an unknown number.
*LEAVE VANESSA. COME ALONE. YOUR FATHER WANTS TO SEE YOU.*
I looked at the man outside.
He was smiling.
Then another message appeared.
*IF YOU BRING HER, SHE WILL NEVER LEAVE ALIVE.*
I looked at Vanessa.
She was staring at the brass key.
“Darius,” she said quietly.
“There's something I haven't told you about your father.””
“What?””
“He didn't disappear because he was protecting you.””
The man outside began walking toward our car.
Vanessa leaned closer.
“He disappeared because he was afraid of what you might become.””
We escaped through the rear exit of the gas station and drove another thirty minutes before reaching a small motel.
Vanessa refused to leave the key.
I refused to leave her alone.
At 9:15 p.m., I finally called Leonard.
He answered immediately.
“Darius. Thank God.””
“Where's my father's letter?””
“Still in my office.””
“Did anyone else see it?””
A pause.
“Marcus came by.””
My stomach tightened.
“When?””
“About twenty minutes ago.””
“Why did you let him in?””
“He said you sent him.””
I closed my eyes.
“Leonard, I didn't send anyone.””
His breathing changed.
“Darius, listen to me. Marcus took a folder.””
“What folder?””
“The original estate documents.””
“Did he take my father's letter?””
“I don't know.””
I heard a door open on Leonard's end.
Then a woman's voice.
“Leonard?””
He lowered his voice.
“I have to go.””
“Don't hang up.””
“Darius, there's something I should have told you years ago.””
“What?””
“I didn't write your father's death certificate.””
I froze.
“What?””
“The signature was mine, but the document was prepared before the warehouse incident. Your father gave me specific instructions.””
My blood ran cold.
“You knew he was alive?””
“I knew he might be.””
“That's not the same thing.””
“No. It isn't.””
“Why did you lie to me?””
Leonard was silent.
Then he said, “Because your father made me promise that if he ever contacted you, I would give you the truth.””
“And now?””
“Now I'm afraid it's too late.””
A crash sounded through the phone.
Leonard shouted.
Then the line went dead.
I called back.
No answer.
Vanessa stood up.
“We have to go.””
I looked at her.
“Where?””
She placed the brass key on the table.
“Your childhood home.””
I stared at it.
“Didn't you say it had been sold?””
“It was supposed to be.””
She pulled out another document.
A property deed.
The registered owner was a company called Northbridge Holdings.
I read the name twice.
Then I looked at the signature.
*DARIUS HAYES.*
Someone had purchased my childhood home using my identity.
And the transaction had taken place three days earlier.
May you like
Vanessa looked at me.
“Your father wasn't the only one preparing for your return.””
