Chapter 8 - THE RECORDING
At 11:57 p.m., I stood outside the Whitmore estate.
Darcy was parked two blocks away.
I had insisted on going alone.
She had insisted on secretly recording everything.
The front door opened before I knocked.
Eleanor stood inside.
She looked exhausted.
Older than she had that morning.
“You came.”
“You have my mother's recording.”
“Yes.”
“Give it to me.”
She shook her head.
“First, you need to understand.”
“I understand enough.”
“No. You don't.”
She stepped aside.
I entered.
The house was dark except for one lamp.
Julian stood near the fireplace.
I hadn't expected him to be there.
“I told you to come alone,” Eleanor said.
“I came without Darcy.”
She smiled faintly.
“You were always smarter than I gave you credit for.”
I looked at Julian.
“Why are you here?”
He didn't answer.
Eleanor walked to a cabinet.
She removed a cassette tape.
An old-fashioned recording.
My heart pounded.
“This is the last thing your mother ever recorded.”
She placed it on the table.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then my mother's voice.
“If anything happens to me, Claire must never be told until she's old enough to protect herself.”
I covered my mouth.
Her voice sounded exactly as I remembered.
Then another voice.
My grandmother.
“Who are you afraid of?”
My mother answered.
“Everyone.”
A third voice appeared.
Eleanor.
My blood ran cold.
“I told you to stop investigating.”
My mother's voice became angry.
“You're stealing from my mother.”
“You don't understand what happens if the accounts collapse.”
“Then let them collapse.”
A door slammed.
Someone shouted.
Then my mother's voice:
“If you touch my daughter, I swear—”
The recording ended.
Silence.
I stared at Eleanor.
“You were there.”
She nodded.
“You threatened my mother.”
“Yes.”
“Did you kill her?”
Eleanor began crying.
“No.”
“Then who did?”
She looked at Julian.
Julian whispered:
“Victor.”
I turned.
“That can't be true.”
“It wasn't planned,” Julian said.
“What happened?”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“Victor was supposed to scare her.”
My stomach turned.
“But the car—”
“He tampered with it.”
I felt like the room had disappeared.
“My mother was murdered.”
“Yes.”
“And you covered it up.”
Eleanor nodded.
“Why?”
“Because Victor threatened all of us.”
I looked at Julian.
“And you?”
“I was afraid.”
“For seventeen years?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“You let me believe my mother died by accident.”
Julian stepped forward.
“I wanted to tell you.”
“But you didn't.”
“No.”
“Because you wanted the trust.”
His face crumpled.
“That wasn't the only reason.”
I stared at him.
“Then what was?”
He looked toward Eleanor.
And said:
“Because your mother wasn't Victor's only victim.”
My blood went cold.
“There was another person in the car that night.”
I froze.
“Who?”
May you like
Julian swallowed.
“Your father.”
