CHAPTER 4 — THE RECORDING MARGARET FORGOT
CHAPTER 4 — THE RECORDING MARGARET FORGOT
The house remained dark for exactly forty-seven seconds.
But to Ethan, it felt like an hour.
He stood in the living room with his phone pressed against his ear, listening to Ava breathe on the other end.
“Ethan?”
“I’m here.”
“Someone is still outside.”
“Stay away from the windows.”
“I am.”
He looked at Margaret.
She hadn't moved.
She was standing beside the dining table, one hand pressed against her chest.
The confession she had just made still hung between them.
At 11:42, his father had been alive.
At 11:42, Margaret had watched someone put him into another car.
And three years later, Ava had somehow survived a crash that was supposed to erase something—or someone.
Ethan's mind raced.
“Mom,” he said.
Margaret looked at him.
“Who was in that car?”
“I don't know.”
“You saw him.”
“I saw the car.”
“You said Dad was put inside.”
“I saw a body.”
“You thought he was dead?”
Margaret's lips trembled.
“I thought he was unconscious.”
“Then why did you leave?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of who?”
She didn't answer.
Ethan stepped closer.
“Who were you afraid of?”
Margaret looked toward the window.
“The man who called me.”
“What man?”
“I don't know his name.”
“You spoke to him.”
“Yes.”
“On the phone?”
Margaret nodded.
“Before the accident?”
“Yes.”
“How long before?”
“Twenty minutes.”
Ethan's pulse accelerated.
“Where is that phone?”
Margaret looked confused.
“What phone?”
“The phone you used that night.”
“I don't have it.”
“You kept everything.”
“I threw it away.”
“When?”
“After.”
“After what?”
“After Ava's accident.”
Ethan stared at her.
Then remembered something.
His father's old estate office.
A room Margaret hadn't entered in years.
A room Ethan hadn't visited since childhood.
He turned toward the staircase.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for the phone.”
“You won't find it.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then you won't mind if I look.”
Margaret grabbed his arm.
“Ethan.”
He stopped.
“Please.”
Her voice had changed.
It wasn't commanding anymore.
It was frightened.
“Don't open that room.”
Ethan looked at her hand.
Then at her face.
“Why?”
“Because some things are better left buried.”
He slowly removed her hand.
“That's exactly what you said about Ava.”
Then he walked upstairs.
The old office had been locked for three years.
Ethan found the key inside a drawer Margaret had forgotten about.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Dust covered everything.
His father's desk.
His old books.
A broken lamp.
A framed photograph.
Ethan stepped inside.
The room smelled like old paper and cedar.
He turned on the flashlight.
Nothing appeared unusual.
Then he remembered what Margaret had said.
Twenty minutes before the crash.
A phone call.
He searched the desk.
Nothing.
He opened the drawers.
Pens.
Receipts.
Old contracts.
A watch.
Nothing.
Then he noticed the wall clock.
It had stopped at 11:42.
Ethan stared at it.
He pulled it from the wall.
Behind it was a small compartment.
Inside sat a black digital recorder.
His heart jumped.
He picked it up.
The battery was dead.
But the device was intact.
He took it downstairs.
Margaret saw it.
Her face drained of color.
“No.”
Ethan looked at her.
“You know what this is.”
She shook her head.
“Ethan…”
“You know.”
“I haven't seen that in years.”
“Then you'll have no problem listening to it.”
He connected it to his laptop.
The device contained seventeen files.
Most were ordinary.
Meetings.
Business discussions.
Family conversations.
Then he saw the final recording.
OCTOBER_17_11_18PM
Ethan clicked it.
Static filled the room.
Then his mother's voice.
“You promised me.”
A man's voice answered.
“I promised you the problem would be handled.”
“You said tonight.”
“It will be.”
“What about Arthur?”
A pause.
“He won't interfere.”
Ethan froze.
His father's name.
Arthur.
The man continued.
“You need to get Ava out of the picture.”
Margaret's voice trembled.
“I don't want her dead.”
“Then she should have stayed away.”
“She doesn't know anything.”
“She knows enough.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means if Arthur tells her, everything collapses.”
Ethan stopped the recording.
He stared at the screen.
Margaret whispered:
“Don't.”
He looked at her.
“What were you planning?”
“Nothing.”
“You said, ‘Get Ava out of the picture.’”
“I was desperate.”
“You were talking about my wife.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
Margaret began crying.
“I didn't know what he was going to do.”
“Who was he?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“You've said that before.”
“Because it's true.”
Ethan played the recording again.
This time he listened carefully.
There was background noise.
A clock.
Traffic.
Then another sound.
A car door.
And something else.
A faint ringing.
Ethan stopped.
He rewound.
Played it again.
The ringing lasted three seconds.
He knew that sound.
A distinctive antique telephone.
His father kept one in his office.
But there was something stranger.
The call was recorded at 11:18.
Twenty-four minutes before the crash.
Ethan opened another file.
11_26PM
Static.
Then Arthur's voice.
“Margaret, if you receive this, don't come after me.”
Ethan's heart stopped.
His father's voice sounded rushed.
“I know what you've done.”
Margaret covered her mouth.
Ethan looked at her.
“What did you do?”
She whispered:
“I didn't hurt him.”
The recording continued.
Arthur said:
“I have evidence.”
A second voice appeared.
The same unknown man.
“You should have taken the offer.”
Arthur replied:
“I won't.”
“You're making this difficult.”
“No.”
A pause.
Then Arthur said:
“I already sent copies.”
The unknown man became silent.
“Copies of what?”
“Everything.”
The recording ended.
Ethan stared at the laptop.
“What did Dad have?”
Margaret didn't answer.
He turned toward her.
“What did he have?”
“I don't know.”
“Stop lying.”
“I don't know!”
She screamed.
Then collapsed into the chair.
Ethan stood motionless.
For the first time, he realized something.
His mother wasn't only afraid of being exposed.
She was afraid of someone else.
Someone who had controlled her.
Someone who had been giving orders.
Someone who had known about Ava before the crash.
Someone who had known Arthur was investigating something.
And possibly someone who had arranged both events.
At 3:41 a.m., Ethan found another recording.
It was shorter.
Only forty-two seconds.
He almost ignored it.
The filename was meaningless.
R_17
He played it.
A man's voice.
“Arthur has sent the documents.”
Margaret answered.
“Where?”
“His wife has them.”
“Which wife?”
“Ava.”
Margaret's breathing changed.
“You said she didn't know.”
“She doesn't.”
“Then why is she being watched?”
“Because she will remember.”
Margaret whispered:
“She can't.”
“She will.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Keep her quiet.”
“How?”
“You already know.”
A click.
The recording ended.
Ethan's hands went cold.
Keep her quiet.
Not kill her.
Not scare her.
Silence her.
And suddenly the pills made sense.
The confusion.
The weakness.
The memory loss.
The endless fatigue.
Someone hadn't wanted Ava dead.
They had wanted her unable to speak.
Ethan went to the hospital before dawn.
Ava was awake.
She looked at him and immediately knew something was wrong.
“You found something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
He sat beside her.
“Your accident wasn't about your money.”
Ava stared at him.
“What do you mean?”
“My father was investigating something.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“But?”
“He left evidence.”
“Where?”
“We haven't found it yet.”
Ava looked down.
“What does your mother have to do with it?”
Ethan hesitated.
Then told her everything.
The recordings.
The conversation.
The pills.
The unknown man.
Ava listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she whispered:
“I knew it.”
Ethan looked at her.
“Knew what?”
“That your mother wasn't the one giving the orders.”
He stared.
“How?”
“Because she was afraid of someone too.”
Ava reached for his hand.
“I saw her that night.”
“Before the crash?”
“Yes.”
“What was she doing?”
“She was arguing with someone.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you hear anything?”
Ava closed her eyes.
“I heard one sentence.”
“What sentence?”
She whispered:
“Arthur's daughter must never find out.”
Ethan froze.
“Arthur's daughter?”
Ava opened her eyes.
“Yes.”
“But I'm Arthur's son.”
Ava's face became confused.
“No.”
“What?”
She shook her head.
“That wasn't what he said.”
Ethan leaned closer.
“What did he say?”
Ava's lips trembled.
“Arthur's daughter.”
Silence.
Ethan's mind raced.
Arthur had only one biological child.
Him.
At least that was what he had always believed.
Unless—
He suddenly remembered an old photograph.
His father standing beside a little girl.
A child around five years old.
A girl Ethan had been told was the daughter of a business associate.
But the photograph had been inside Arthur's private desk.
Why?
He looked at Ava.
“Do you remember the girl's name?”
“No.”
“Anything?”
Ava stared into the distance.
“She had your father's eyes.”
Ethan stood.
“Where is that photograph?”
“At your house?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
Ethan suddenly knew.
His father's old office.
The locked room.
The hidden recorder.
The photograph.
The missing evidence.
He rushed back.
The photograph was still there.
Behind the old books.
Ethan found it inside a leather folder.
On the back was written:
For my daughter, when she is old enough to know the truth.
Ethan's hands trembled.
He turned it over.
The little girl stared back at him.
She had dark hair.
Arthur's eyes.
And a small birthmark beneath her left ear.
Ethan had seen that birthmark before.
He had seen it recently.
On someone he knew.
He dropped the photograph.
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a woman's voice.
“You found the recording.”
Ethan froze.
“Who is this?”
“You need to stop.”
“Who are you?”
“You don't understand what you're uncovering.”
“Tell me.”
“If you continue, Ava won't be the only person in danger.”
“Who are you?”
The woman breathed softly.
Then said:
“I'm the daughter your father was trying to protect.”
The call ended.
Ethan stared at the photograph.
Then at the empty doorway.
His mother appeared behind him.
She looked at the picture.
And whispered:
“She was never supposed to come back.”
Ethan turned.
“Who is she?”
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
Then she said the words that shattered the last piece of Ethan's understanding.
May you like
“She is your sister.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
