Chapter 12 - The Recording
I listened to the recording four times.
Each time my father’s voice became less familiar.
“That’s why we take the boy first.”
He had said it months before Noah was born.
Before Ethan died.
Before my family entered my hospital room.
The kidnapping attempt had not been spontaneous.
It had been rehearsed.
Detective Sloan immediately copied the recording into evidence.
The conversation continued for seven minutes.
Carla and Dad discussed the twins.
They discussed Ethan’s estate.
They discussed my emotional condition after childbirth as if postpartum grief were something they could schedule.
Then Carla said something that made Sloan replay the audio.
“We still need him to take Canyon Road.”
My father replied, “He always does after meeting Keller.”
Keller.
I looked at Margaret.
“Who is Keller?”
She shook her head.
Sloan searched the name.
Within minutes, we had an answer.
Thomas Keller.
Owner of a private accounting firm.
Former auditor for Walker Development.
Ethan had met Keller the night he died.
My chest tightened.
“Ethan told me he had a meeting.”
Sloan nodded.
“According to Keller’s office calendar, Ethan arrived at 6:10 p.m.”
“What time did he leave?”
“7:42.”
The crash happened at 8:16.
Canyon Road was the fastest route from Keller’s office to our home.
Dad and Carla had known exactly where Ethan would be.
And exactly which road he would take.
I felt suddenly dizzy.
Margaret helped me sit.
Sloan did not soften the truth.
“We are reopening Ethan’s death investigation as a suspected homicide.”
The word struck harder than anything else had.
Homicide.
My husband had not simply died.
Someone may have killed him.
I thought of our last morning.
Ethan making coffee.
Ethan placing his hand on my belly when Noah kicked.
Ethan teasing me because I had packed the hospital bag three separate times.
He should have been holding our children.
Instead, I had buried him.
I looked at Sloan.
“Find out who did it.”
“We will.”
“No matter who it is.”
“Yes.”
My phone vibrated.
A message from Mark.
PLEASE TALK TO ME.
I ignored it.
Another came.
CARLA IS GOING TO KILL DAD.
I stared at the screen.
Margaret read it over my shoulder.
Sloan immediately called Mark.
No answer.
Then a photograph arrived.
Dad was sitting in the passenger seat of a gray sedan.
His hands appeared bound in front of him.
The photograph had been taken through the windshield.
A woman was driving.
Carla.
Beneath it, Mark had written:
SHE SENT ME THIS.
Then another message came.
May you like
SHE SAYS DAD HAS THE ONLY COPY OF GARAGE FILE SEVEN.
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