I forgot how to breathe.
“Brake line?”
Samuel Greene said nothing for a moment.
Then his voice became careful.
“Where are you, Candace?”
“My father’s house.”
“Who is with you?”
I looked around the study.
Mr. Bennett.
Grandma.
Rosa.
Alyssa.
And Vivian.
“My family.”
Another pause.
“Is Vivian Harper there?”
Every eye in the room moved toward her.
“Yes.”
Vivian shook her head.
“Hang up.”
I turned away from her.
“Mr. Greene, what happened to my mother’s brake line?”
He exhaled slowly.
“I haven’t discussed Rebecca’s case with anyone in years.”
“Then discuss it with me.”
Silence.
“Please.”
That word changed something.
“When we examined your mother’s vehicle,” he finally said, “we found damage to a section of the hydraulic brake line.”
My knees weakened.
I sat down.
“What kind of damage?”
“At first, we couldn’t tell.”
Mr. Bennett moved closer to the phone.
“Mr. Greene, I’m Daniel Bennett. I represent William Harper’s estate. Are you saying investigators suspected mechanical interference?”
“Yes.”
Vivian suddenly spoke.
“That isn’t what the police report says.”
Samuel went silent.
Then:
“Who said that?”
I watched Vivian.
“She did.”
Another long pause.
“Vivian.”
It wasn’t a question.
Her face changed when he said her name.
“You remember me,” she said.
“I remember everyone connected to that case.”
I looked at Vivian.
“How do you know him?”
“He questioned all of us.”
Samuel continued before she could say more.
“The brake line issue was documented in a supplemental mechanical report.”
I looked at the pages spread across Dad’s desk.
“There isn’t one here.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because William contacted me years later asking the same question.”
My heart pounded.
“What happened to it?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer frustrated me.
“But you must have suspected something.”
“I suspected the case file was incomplete.”
“Why?”
“Because I wrote the supplemental report.”
The room went silent.
Samuel’s voice became firmer.
“I handed it to my supervisor myself.”
I stared at the official report.
“And then?”
“It disappeared.”
Alyssa whispered:
“Someone removed it?”
“I can’t prove that.”
“But it wasn’t in the final file?”
“No.”
Mr. Bennett asked, “Do you still have a copy?”
Samuel hesitated.
“I have my notes.”
I stood.
“Can I see them?”
“Candace—”
“Please.”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Vivian immediately shook her head.
“This is insane.”
I covered the phone.
“Why are you so afraid of his notes?”
“I’m not.”
“You’ve tried to stop me from opening the box, reading Mom’s letter, and calling the detective.”
“Because you’re turning an accident into something it wasn’t.”
“How would you know?”
She froze.
I stepped closer.
“You weren’t there.”
“No.”
“Unless there’s something else you haven’t told us.”
“There isn’t.”
Samuel’s voice came through the phone.
“Candace.”
I lifted it again.
“Yes?”
“There is something you need to understand before you come here.”
“What?”
“The brake line wasn’t the only reason I questioned the accident.”
My stomach tightened.
“What else?”
“Your mother’s purse.”
I frowned.
“What about it?”
“It wasn’t in the car.”
Grandma looked up sharply.
“She always carried that purse.”
Samuel continued.
“Her wallet was recovered two days later.”
“Where?”
“About six miles from the crash site.”
I felt cold.
“Was she robbed?”
“Cash was still inside.”
“Then why was it there?”
“I never found out.”
Alyssa sat beside me now.
“What about her keys?”
“Still in the ignition.”
“Phone?”
“This was before people carried cell phones the way they do now.”
Of course.
Samuel paused.
“But there was something else missing.”
“What?”
“A small cassette recorder.”
I stared at the phone.
“A recorder?”
“Rebecca had started carrying one.”
Grandma covered her mouth.
“I remember that.”
I looked at her.
“You knew?”
“She used it for work notes.”
Samuel corrected her.
“Not only work notes.”
My pulse quickened.
“What do you mean?”
“When Rebecca came to see me approximately two weeks before she died, she told me she had begun recording certain conversations.”
Vivian sat down.
Slowly.
Alyssa noticed.
So did I.
“Conversations with whom?” I asked.
Samuel’s answer came immediately.
“Thomas.”
Alyssa closed her eyes.
“And?”
Samuel hesitated.
“William.”
I felt something twist inside me.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Why was she recording Dad?”
“I think you should hear Rebecca explain that herself.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Samuel didn’t repeat it.
I stood.
“You have the recorder?”
“No.”
The hope vanished almost instantly.
“But I may have something better.”
Nobody moved.
“What?”
“A copy.”
Vivian stood so quickly her chair struck the wall.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
Alyssa stared at her.
“Mom?”
Vivian’s breathing became shallow.
Samuel must have heard the noise.
“She’s still there?”
“Yes.”
His voice changed.
“Ask Vivian what happened on October seventeenth.”
Vivian headed toward the door.
Alyssa blocked her.
“October seventeenth.”
Vivian shook her head.
“I don’t remember.”
Samuel heard her.
“Yes, you do.”
Vivian stared at the phone.
“What happened October seventeenth?” I asked.
Samuel answered.
“Rebecca came to the station.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“She was frightened. She gave me a cassette and asked me to keep it somewhere outside the official evidence system.”
Mr. Bennett frowned.
“Why?”
“Because she believed someone with connections inside the department was passing information about her complaints to Thomas.”
The room felt suddenly smaller.
“Did you keep it?”
“Yes.”
“For thirty years?”
“Yes.”
Vivian whispered:
“Oh, God.”
Samuel continued.
“I made a copy. The original went back to Rebecca because she insisted she needed it.”
“And the copy?”
“I still have it.”
My heart hammered.
“What is on it?”
Samuel didn’t answer immediately.
Then he said:
“Three voices.”
I looked at Vivian.
“Whose?”
“Rebecca’s.”
A pause.
“Thomas’s.”
Another pause.
“And Vivian’s.”
Alyssa slowly turned toward her mother.
Vivian closed her eyes.
“What were they talking about?”
Samuel’s answer was quiet.
“You.”
I couldn’t speak.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“You were nine years old, Candace.”
He paused.
“And according to what Rebecca recorded, three weeks before she died, someone was already discussing how to remove you from William Harper’s home.”
Alyssa whispered:
“Why?”
Samuel answered with the sentence that made Vivian finally start crying.
“Because Rebecca had discovered that the twenty-five percent of Harper Industries held for Candace could never legally pass to Vivian.”
I looked at the ownership binder.
My mother’s shares.
My inheritance.
The thing I hadn’t even known existed.
Samuel continued.
“And Rebecca believed someone had finally realized just how much those shares might someday be worth.”
I stared at Vivian.
She wiped her face.
Then she whispered:
“I never wanted Rebecca dead.”
Nobody had accused her of that.
Not once.
And judging by the way Mr. Bennett immediately looked at her, Vivian realized her mistake too.
PART 10 — MY MOTHER’S VOICE
Nobody moved.
Vivian stared at us.
Then she seemed to realize exactly what she had said.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
Mr. Bennett’s expression hardened.
“Then how did you mean it?”
“I meant I never wanted anything bad to happen to Rebecca.”
I stepped toward her.
“Nobody said you did.”
Vivian looked at the floor.
Alyssa’s voice was almost a whisper.
“Mom, what happened on that recording?”
Vivian shook her head.
“It was an argument.”
“About Candace?”
“Yes.”
“About the company?”
Vivian hesitated.
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why were you discussing my mother’s company shares?”
“Thomas brought them up.”
Of course.
Thomas again.
“What did he say?”
Vivian looked at me.
“He said Rebecca had changed her estate documents.”
Grandma frowned.
“Rebecca didn’t change them. Candace was always the beneficiary.”
“I know that now.”
“Then what did Thomas believe?”
Vivian wiped her face.
“He thought if Rebecca died, William would receive her shares.”
I felt cold.
Mr. Bennett spoke immediately.
“But that wasn’t true.”
“No.”
“Did Thomas know that?”
“Not initially.”
The room became very quiet.
I asked the question nobody wanted to ask.
“When did he find out?”
Vivian looked at me.
“The night of the recording.”
Three weeks before Mom died.
Alyssa backed away from her mother.
“So Uncle Thomas thought Rebecca’s shares would go to Dad if she died?”
Vivian nodded.
“And then eventually…”
Alyssa couldn’t finish.
Mr. Bennett did.
“Potentially into the marital estate.”
Vivian shook her head quickly.
“But that never could have happened. Rebecca had protected Candace’s interest.”
I stared at her.
“And Thomas discovered that three weeks before Mom’s crash.”
“Yes.”
My phone was still connected to Samuel.
His voice came through.
“That’s consistent with the recording.”
I lifted the phone.
“I want to hear it.”
Vivian immediately said:
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You don’t get to decide anymore.”
Samuel gave me his address.
Mr. Bennett insisted on coming.
Alyssa did too.
Vivian wanted to stay behind.
Then Alyssa said:
“If you don’t come, I’ll assume every word on that tape is true.”
Vivian came.
Forty minutes later, we pulled up outside a small brick house surrounded by maple trees.
Samuel Greene opened the door before we knocked.
He was thin.
White-haired.
Bent slightly at the shoulders.
But his eyes were sharp.
When he saw me, he stopped.
For several seconds, he simply stared.
“You look like Rebecca.”
My throat tightened.
“People used to say that.”
“Your father did too.”
He invited us inside.
His dining room table was already covered with folders.
And in the middle sat an old cassette player.
I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
Samuel sat across from me.
“I need you to understand something.”
I nodded.
“This recording doesn’t prove who damaged Rebecca’s brake line.”
“I understand.”
“It doesn’t prove anyone caused her death.”
“I understand.”
“It proves only that a conversation occurred.”
“Play it.”
He looked at me for another moment.
Then pressed the button.
Static filled the room.
A chair scraped.
And then—
My mother’s voice.
“Thomas, sit down.”
Everything inside me broke.
Thirty years.
Thirty years since I had heard Rebecca Harper speak.
I covered my mouth.
Alyssa reached toward me, then stopped herself.
The recording continued.
Thomas’s voice came next.
“You’re making this bigger than it is.”
Mom answered.
“You asked William what happens to my company shares if something happens to me.”
“That was business.”
“No. That was my daughter’s future.”
Another voice.
Vivian.
“Rebecca, nobody is trying to take anything from Candace.”
My mother laughed.
Coldly.
“You’ve been sleeping with my brother for six months, Vivian. Forgive me if your concern for my daughter doesn’t comfort me.”
Alyssa gasped.
Vivian closed her eyes.
Six months.
The affair had started far earlier than she’d admitted.
Thomas’s voice sharpened.
“Keep your voice down.”
“Why? Afraid William will hear?”
“He already knows enough.”
“No. William knows what you’ve allowed him to know.”
I leaned closer to the cassette player.
Mom continued.
“My shares go to Candace. They always have. They always will.”
Thomas said something too quiet to understand.
Then Mom:
“You thought William inherited them, didn’t you?”
Silence on the tape.
A long silence.
Then Thomas said:
“I thought spouses inherit.”
My mother answered:
“Not these shares.”
Another pause.
Then Vivian spoke.
“What happens if Candace isn’t William’s daughter?”
My entire body went rigid.
Alyssa looked at Vivian.
Vivian whispered:
“I was repeating something Thomas said.”
But the tape continued.
Mom’s voice became furious.
“Don’t you ever say that about my child again.”
Vivian answered:
“I’m asking a legal question.”
“No. You’re looking for a loophole.”
Static crackled.
Then my mother said something that made Mr. Bennett lean forward.
“I already spoke to Daniel’s father.”
Mr. Bennett froze.
“My father?”
Samuel nodded.
The Bennett law firm had apparently been involved much longer than I’d realized.
On the recording, Rebecca continued.
“Candace’s ownership is protected. Even William cannot take it from her.”
Thomas cursed.
Then there was a bang.
A chair, maybe.
My mother’s voice:
“Get out.”
Thomas said:
“Rebecca—”
“GET OUT.”
More movement.
Then Vivian:
“You’re destroying this family.”
Mom laughed bitterly.
“What family? You’re sleeping with my brother while circling my husband.”
Alyssa looked sick.
Vivian stared at the floor.
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
Thomas’s voice.
Quiet.
Almost too quiet.
“You should be careful driving around alone when you’re this upset.”
The recording stopped.
Nobody breathed.
I looked at Samuel.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
He turned the cassette over.
“There are another eleven minutes.”
My pulse jumped.
“Play them.”
He didn’t.
“Why not?”
“Because Thomas left.”
I frowned.
“Then what’s on the rest?”
Samuel looked at Vivian.
“Rebecca and Vivian.”
Alyssa slowly turned toward her mother.
Vivian began crying again.
“No.”
Samuel put his finger on the play button.
“Those eleven minutes are why William eventually stopped believing Vivian’s version of what happened.”
I looked at her.
“What did you tell my mother?”
Vivian shook her head.
“Candace, please.”
“Play it.”
Samuel pressed the button.
Static.
Then Mom’s voice returned.
“You can stop pretending now. He’s gone.”
Vivian answered:
“I wasn’t pretending.”
“You’ve been lying to Thomas too.”
Silence.
Then Rebecca said:
“He thinks Alyssa is his baby.”
Alyssa stopped breathing.
I looked at her.
She looked at Vivian.
The tape continued.
My mother spoke again.
“But you and I both know there’s another possibility.”
Samuel reached toward the machine.
But before the next sentence played, Vivian lunged across the table and slammed the stop button.
The room went silent.
Alyssa stared at her mother.
“What possibility?”
Vivian’s hand remained pressed against the cassette player.
She was shaking.
Alyssa repeated the question.
“What possibility, Mom?”
Vivian looked at her daughter.
And whatever she saw in Alyssa’s face finally broke her.
“Thomas wasn’t the only man,” she whispered.
Nobody moved.
Alyssa’s lips parted.
“Then who?”
Vivian looked at me.
Not Alyssa.
Me.
And suddenly I understood why she had spent thirty years terrified of this recording.
Because Thomas Lawson might have been Alyssa’s biological father.
But apparently, there had once been another possibility.
Someone whose name could destroy what remained of our family.
PART 11 — THE SECOND MAN
