Chapter 6 — Ethan’s Father
Chapter 6 — Ethan’s Father
The words stayed in Claire's mind long after she stopped reading them.
The person who killed me is the person Claire trusts most.
She read the sentence again.
Then again.
The blood had dried into the paper.
The handwriting was unmistakably her mother's.
But Claire couldn't make herself believe what the words seemed to suggest.
Ethan stood beside her.
“Claire.”
She didn't answer.
His eyes moved to the photograph.
Then to the note.
Then back to her.
“You don't think it's me.”
It wasn't a question.
Claire finally looked at him.
“I don't know what to think.”
Pain crossed his face.
“I would never hurt you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Claire swallowed.
“I want to.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“But?”
She looked away.
“But everyone I trusted has lied to me.”
“I haven't.”
“You kept things from me.”
“Yes.”
Claire's eyes snapped back to him.
“What?”
Ethan's expression changed.
“I didn't tell you everything.”
“What didn't you tell me?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation hurt more than the confession.
“What?”
“My father.”
Claire frowned.
“What about him?”
“He knew your mother.”
The room became silent.
Eleanor looked sharply at Ethan.
Daniel's eyes opened.
“Ethan,” he whispered.
Ethan looked at him.
“You knew?”
Daniel's voice was weak.
“Your father was there.”
Claire's stomach dropped.
“Where?”
“The night your mother died.”
Ethan went still.
“What?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Your father was the last person I saw before I left the house.”
Claire stared at Ethan.
“Who is your father?”
Ethan looked toward the floor.
“Jonathan Hale.”
Claire's breath caught.
The name meant something.
She had seen it before.
On documents.
In the red room.
In the old files.
She turned toward Morgan.
“Jonathan Hale?”
Morgan's expression hardened.
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
Morgan didn't answer immediately.
Ethan did.
“My father was a detective.”
Claire's heart pounded.
“A detective?”
“Yes.”
“What department?”
“County Major Crimes.”
“Was he investigating my mother's death?”
Ethan nodded.
“Yes.”
Claire took a step backward.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't know what he knew.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“I found out two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks?”
Ethan nodded.
“I found an old box in his storage unit.”
Claire stared at him.
“What was inside?”
Ethan looked at the black box on the table.
“Something connected to this.”
The rain had started again.
Heavy drops struck the chapel windows.
Nobody moved.
Claire looked at Ethan.
“Show me.”
He reached into his coat.
Pulled out a photograph.
He placed it beside the photograph of her mother.
Claire stared.
The picture showed three men standing outside the Whitmore estate.
Jonathan Hale.
Daniel Whitmore.
And a third man.
Thomas Vale.
Claire's heart pounded.
“When was this taken?”
“Twenty-three years ago.”
“Why was your father with them?”
“I don't know.”
“Did he work with Thomas?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“I think he was investigating him.”
Claire pointed at the photograph.
“Then why is Thomas smiling?”
Ethan stared.
“I don't know.”
Claire picked up the picture.
There was something written on the back.
She turned it over.
THE DEAL IS COMPLETE.
Her fingers went cold.
“Your father wrote this?”
“I don't know.”
Ethan looked at the handwriting.
“I've never seen it before.”
Morgan took the photograph.
He examined it carefully.
“This was taken the same night your mother died.”
Claire looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“Because of the timestamp.”
“What timestamp?”
Morgan pointed to the corner.
A digital date had been printed onto the photograph.
11:03 p.m.
Claire's mother was still alive at 11:03.
According to the medical records.
She died at 11:21.
Ethan's father had been outside the house eighteen minutes before her death.
Claire looked at Ethan.
“Where was your father at 11:21?”
“I don't know.”
“Find out.”
“I will.”
“No.”
Claire's voice hardened.
“We find out now.”
They returned to the police station.
Morgan reopened the old case.
The file was incomplete.
Pages were missing.
Evidence logs had been altered.
Witness statements had disappeared.
But there was one document that survived.
A handwritten report from Jonathan Hale.
Morgan read it aloud.
11:05 p.m. — Subject Thomas Vale entered Whitmore residence.
Claire's heart jumped.
“Thomas entered the house.”
“Yes.”
“What happened next?”
Morgan continued.
11:08 p.m. — Female subject observed leaving rear entrance.
“Who?”
“Unknown.”
Claire stared.
“Evelyn?”
“Possibly.”
Morgan continued.
11:12 p.m. — Eleanor Whitmore arrives at east entrance.
Claire frowned.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“Why?”
“Eleanor told us she was already inside.”
Morgan looked at her.
“Then someone lied.”
He turned the page.
The next line was almost completely blacked out.
Only a few words were visible.
11:17 p.m. — Jonathan Hale enters residence.
Claire froze.
Ethan stared at the page.
“My father went inside.”
Morgan nodded.
“Five minutes before your mother died.”
Claire's stomach turned.
“What happened at 11:21?”
The answer was missing.
The entire section had been removed.
Someone had cut it out of the file.
Ethan walked away from the table.
He looked sick.
“My father lied to me.”
Claire followed him.
“You said he died when you were young.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“When?”
“Four years after your mother's death.”
Claire watched his face.
“You never suspected anything?”
“I was twelve.”
She softened.
“I know.”
“I believed what everyone told me.”
“Just like me.”
Ethan looked at her.
“Yes.”
They stood in silence.
Then Morgan called out.
“I found something.”
They turned.
Morgan was holding another file.
“This is your father's personnel record.”
Ethan approached.
Morgan opened it.
“Jonathan Hale resigned six months after Claire's mother's death.”
“Why?”
“Officially? Medical reasons.”
“What kind?”
“Anxiety. Insomnia. Alcohol dependence.”
Ethan stared.
“That doesn't sound like him.”
Morgan looked at him.
“Because he wasn't sick.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was investigated.”
Ethan's face went pale.
“For what?”
Morgan turned the page.
“Evidence tampering.”
Silence.
Claire felt the pieces shifting.
“Did he get charged?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because the investigator disappeared.”
Claire's blood ran cold.
“Who was the investigator?”
Morgan looked at the name.
Then at Ethan.
“Alan Cross.”
Ethan stepped backward.
“That's impossible.”
Morgan looked at him.
“Why?”
“My father told me Cross died.”
Claire stared.
Another lie.
Another dead man who might not be dead.
That evening, they returned to the Hale family home.
Ethan's mother was waiting.
She was an elegant woman in her late sixties.
Her name was Margaret Hale.
When she saw Claire, her face changed.
“You shouldn't be here.”
Claire had heard those words too many times.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
Margaret looked at Ethan.
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth.”
Margaret's expression hardened.
“You don't know the truth.”
Claire stepped forward.
“Then tell me.”
Margaret looked at her.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then:
“Your mother was a liar.”
Claire's jaw tightened.
“What did she lie about?”
“Everything.”
“Did she lie about Thomas?”
“No.”
“Did she lie about Daniel?”
“No.”
“Did she lie about my father?”
Margaret's eyes changed.
Claire noticed.
“You know.”
Margaret looked away.
“You know who my father is.”
“I know what your mother wanted you to believe.”
“What does that mean?”
Margaret's voice dropped.
“Your mother wanted everyone to believe Daniel was your father.”
Claire froze.
“Wasn't he?”
“No.”
Margaret looked at Ethan.
“Tell her.”
Ethan stared at his mother.
“Tell her what?”
Margaret whispered:
“Your father was Claire's father.”
The room went silent.
Claire couldn't breathe.
“What?”
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
“Jonathan Hale was your biological father.”
Ethan looked as if he'd been struck.
“No.”
Margaret nodded.
“Yes.”
Claire shook her head.
“That can't be true.”
“Your mother had an affair with Jonathan.”
“No.”
“She did.”
“Why would she lie?”
“Because Thomas discovered the affair.”
Claire stared.
“So Thomas believed I was his daughter.”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel?”
“Daniel agreed to pretend.”
Claire's mind spun.
The recording had said Daniel was her father.
The legal agreement had said Daniel surrendered parental rights.
But now Margaret was saying Jonathan was the father.
Someone was lying.
Maybe everyone was.
Claire turned toward Ethan.
“Your father…”
Ethan couldn't speak.
Margaret continued.
“Jonathan loved your mother.”
Claire's voice shook.
“Then why did he investigate her?”
“Because she betrayed him.”
“What?”
“She told him you were Daniel's daughter.”
Claire stared.
Margaret's face hardened.
“Jonathan believed you were Daniel's child.”
“But he wasn't.”
“No.”
“So why did my mother lie to him?”
“Because she was afraid of what Jonathan would do if he knew you were his.”
Claire felt sick.
“What would he do?”
Margaret whispered:
“He would take you.”
Ethan stepped forward.
“Mom.”
Margaret looked at him.
“Stop.”
“You're hurting her.”
“She needs to know.”
“No.”
“You've spent your whole life protecting lies.”
Ethan's voice cracked.
“Because I was a child.”
“And now you're a man.”
Silence.
Margaret looked at Claire.
“Your mother knew Jonathan was dangerous.”
Claire shook her head.
“Then why was he a detective?”
“Because that's exactly why.”
“What?”
“He knew how to destroy evidence.”
Claire's stomach dropped.
“Did he kill my mother?”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“I don't know.”
“Did he know she was going to die?”
“I don't know.”
“Did he go into the house that night?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To confront her.”
“About me?”
“Yes.”
Claire looked at Ethan.
“And you?”
“I didn't know.”
“Your father knew me.”
“Yes.”
“Did he know I was his daughter?”
Margaret answered.
“Yes.”
Claire's breath caught.
“When?”
“Your mother told him.”
“When?”
“Before she died.”
“Then why did he let me believe Daniel was my father?”
Margaret whispered:
“Because he thought it would keep you alive.”
Claire stared.
The same explanation.
Everyone claimed they had lied to protect her.
But every lie led to another.
Suddenly Ethan's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Hello?”
A man's voice spoke.
“You're asking questions your father died trying to bury.”
Ethan froze.
“Who is this?”
The line went silent.
Then:
“Ask your mother what happened at 11:21.”
The call ended.
Ethan slowly lowered the phone.
Claire looked at him.
“Who was it?”
“I don't know.”
Margaret's face had gone white.
Claire turned toward her.
“You know.”
Margaret shook her head.
“No.”
“Mom.”
Ethan's voice hardened.
“What happened at 11:21?”
Margaret stared at him.
Then at Claire.
Then she sat down.
“I saw your mother that night.”
Claire's heart stopped.
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Jonathan called me.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me he had found out the truth.”
“What truth?”
“That Claire was his daughter.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“What happened next?”
Margaret began crying.
“Jonathan went inside.”
“And?”
“I waited.”
“How long?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Then?”
“He came out.”
“Was he alone?”
“No.”
Claire opened her eyes.
“Who was with him?”
Margaret looked directly at her.
“Your mother.”
Claire froze.
“She was alive.”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
“They argued.”
“About what?”
“You.”
Claire's heart pounded.
“Then?”
Margaret's voice dropped.
“Jonathan took out a gun.”
Ethan went pale.
“Mom.”
“He didn't shoot her.”
“Then who did?”
Margaret shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“What happened?”
“Someone came from behind.”
“Who?”
“I couldn't see.”
“Did you hear the shot?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“One.”
Claire whispered:
“And my mother?”
“She fell.”
“Did Jonathan kill her?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because when the gun went off…”
Margaret looked at Ethan.
“Jonathan wasn't holding the gun.”
Silence.
Claire felt the room spinning.
“Then who was?”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“I don't know.”
Claire walked toward the window.
Everything had become unbearable.
Her mother had been alive.
Jonathan had been there.
Eleanor had been there.
Thomas had been there.
Daniel had been there.
And someone had fired the gun.
The question was no longer who had lied.
It was who had been holding the weapon.
Claire turned.
“Where is your father's gun?”
Ethan looked at her.
“What?”
“His service weapon.”
“He turned it in.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Margaret suddenly stood.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What?”
“Jonathan didn't turn it in.”
Ethan stared at her.
“Where is it?”
Margaret's face went pale.
“I don't know.”
Claire stepped closer.
“You do.”
Margaret shook her head.
“No.”
“You do.”
“Claire…”
“Where is the gun?”
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
Then she whispered:
“In the red room.”
They returned to the estate before midnight.
The red room was dark.
Claire opened the hidden compartment beneath the desk.
Nothing.
The drawer was empty.
Ethan searched the walls.
Morgan examined the floor.
Then Claire noticed the photograph of her mother.
It had been moved.
She lifted it.
Behind it was a small metal box.
Inside lay an old revolver.
Ethan stared.
“My father's.”
Morgan carefully opened the chamber.
One bullet was missing.
Claire's heart stopped.
“One shot.”
Morgan nodded.
“One bullet missing.”
Ethan looked at the weapon.
“This could prove he killed her.”
Claire shook her head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother said the person she trusted most killed her.”
Ethan looked at her.
“What are you saying?”
Claire stared at the gun.
“If Jonathan was holding this…”
She paused.
“…then my mother trusted him.”
Ethan's expression changed.
“Claire.”
She looked up.
“Maybe the person she trusted most wasn't Eleanor.”
Silence.
“Maybe it was my father.”
Ethan stepped backward.
“No.”
Claire's voice trembled.
“I don't know.”
“You think my father killed your mother?”
“I think we need to find out.”
Morgan took the gun.
“We'll run the ballistics.”
“And if it matches?”
Ethan stared at Claire.
She couldn't answer.
Because deep inside, she was terrified of the possibility.
Not because Jonathan Hale might have killed her mother.
But because if he had—
then Ethan had spent years loving the daughter of the woman his father might have murdered.
They were leaving the red room when Claire noticed something beneath the floor.
A small piece of paper.
She picked it up.
Three words.
HE DIDN'T SHOOT.
Claire looked at Ethan.
“Then who did?”
The answer was written beneath it.
ASK THE WOMAN WHO WATCHED.
Eleanor.
Or Evelyn.
Claire didn't know.
Then her phone vibrated.
A photograph appeared.
Ethan's father.
Standing beside Claire's mother.
And behind them—
Eleanor.
The timestamp was 11:19 p.m.
Two minutes before the shooting.
Claire zoomed in.
Eleanor wasn't looking at Jonathan.
She wasn't looking at Claire's mother.
She was looking directly at the camera.
As if she knew someone was watching.
As if she knew this photograph would someday be found.
Then a message appeared.
YOU ARE LOOKING AT THE WRONG FATHER.
Claire stared.
Another message followed.
JONATHAN WAS TRYING TO SAVE YOUR MOTHER.
Then the final one:
THE MAN WHO SHOT HER WAS YOUR MOTHER'S BROTHER.
Claire's blood ran cold.
Daniel.
She looked toward Ethan.
“Daniel?”
But before anyone could answer, Detective Morgan's phone rang.
He listened for several seconds.
Then his face went white.
“What happened?” Claire asked.
Morgan slowly lowered the phone.
“Daniel is gone.”
Claire froze.
“What?”
“He disappeared from the hospital.”
“Was there security?”
“Yes.”
“Then how?”
Morgan looked at the revolver in his hand.
“Someone walked into his room wearing a police uniform.”
Claire's stomach dropped.
“Daniel wasn't taken.”
Morgan shook his head.
“He left willingly.”
“Why?”
Morgan stared at her.
“Because he left a message.”
“What message?”
Morgan handed Claire a piece of paper.
Three words.
I REMEMBER EVERYTHING.
Claire's heart pounded.
May you like
And beneath those words was one final sentence.
Now ask Eleanor who pulled the trigger.
