Chapter 5 - The Voice on the Recording
Derek sat at the kitchen table.
The detective sat across from him.
I stood beside Noah.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Finally, Derek said, “Eight years ago, I went to the warehouse.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Evan called me.”
“What did he want?”
“To warn me.”
“About what?”
Derek rubbed his hands together.
“He said something was wrong with the fire.”
The detective leaned forward.
“What exactly did he say?”
Derek looked at me.
“He said someone had been inside the warehouse before the fire started.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I thought I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
Derek didn't answer.
The detective asked again.
“Did you see a hidden room?”
Derek nodded.
“Not exactly.”
He explained that after the fire, he had returned to the property alone.
Behind a damaged storage wall, he found a narrow passage.
At the end was a steel door.
He couldn't open it.
He never told me.
“Why?”
“Because Evan told me to stay away.”
“Did you listen?”
“No.”
The detective stared at him.
“What did you find?”
Derek looked at me.
“Nothing.”
I didn't believe him.
“You're lying.”
He didn't argue.
Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out an old photograph.
The photograph showed the warehouse before the fire.
At first, I saw nothing.
Then Derek pointed.
“There.”
A small black door behind the storage shelves.
I recognized it.
The same shape as the door in the photograph Lena had kept.
The detective took the photograph.
“Where is this warehouse now?”
“Still standing.”
I looked at Derek.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“And Lena knew?”
“I don't know.”
The detective's phone rang.
He stepped into the hallway.
I looked at Noah.
He was asleep again.
Then I noticed something.
His little hand was clenched around a toy car.
A blue SUV.
The same kind he had played with in the photograph from the house.
I picked it up.
There was a tiny scratch on the underside.
A number.
I turned it over.
A small memory card was taped beneath it.
My heart stopped.
Derek saw it.
“What is that?”
I carefully removed it.
The detective returned.
“What did you find?”
I held it up.
He immediately called another officer.
“We need a laptop.”
Minutes later, the card was inserted into a secure device.
There was one video file.
No title.
No date.
We opened it.
The screen showed the warehouse.
The footage was dark.
Someone was filming from behind a stack of boxes.
A man's voice spoke.
“We need to move the documents before Daniel finds them.”
I stopped breathing.
The voice belonged to Evan.
Another voice answered.
“What about the boy?”
Evan said:
“Lena will handle that.”
I looked at Derek.
“Noah wasn't even born then.”
The detective paused the recording.
“Keep going.”
The video resumed.
Evan said, “If Daniel finds out what happened that night, everything falls apart.”
Then another person entered the frame.
The face was partly hidden.
But the voice was clear.
I knew it.
Derek knew it.
Lena knew it.
It was Travis.
Eight years ago.
Before I had ever met him.
The room went silent.
Travis couldn't have been there.
He was supposed to have met Lena only three months earlier.
The detective rewound the footage.
Travis appeared again.
Older.
But unmistakable.
Then a second file appeared.
A photograph.
Then a document.
Then an audio recording.
The detective opened it.
Lena's voice filled the room.
“If you're hearing this, it means I couldn't tell Daniel myself.”
My knees weakened.
“Daniel, I need you to understand something.”
The recording crackled.
“I didn't leave you because I stopped loving you.”
I closed my eyes.
“I left because someone threatened Noah.”
My heart broke.
“Someone who has been watching our family for years.”
The recording stopped.
The detective looked at me.
“Can you identify this voice?”
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
“Lena.”
He nodded.
Then the file automatically advanced.
A second recording began.
Lena whispered:
“Daniel, the man you think is protecting me is the man I'm trying to escape.”
A pause.
Then:
“It's not Travis.”
My eyes widened.
“It's someone closer.”
The recording ended.
Derek stared at me.
I stared back.
Then my phone rang.
The caller ID said:
Lena.
I answered.
No one spoke.
Then a man's voice whispered:
“You should have stayed away from the warehouse.”
May you like
The call ended.
And immediately afterward, the detective's phone received a photograph of Noah sleeping on our sofa...
