Chapter 3 - The Voice on the Sixth Tape
Michael played the cassette in a police interview room.
Officer Ramos, Samuel, and Laura sat with him.
Evelyn’s voice came first.
“If you found this recording, Harrison wants you to believe Samuel betrayed me.”
Samuel stiffened.
A second voice appeared.
Charles Vane.
“You cannot leave with the archive.”
“I already moved it,” Evelyn answered.
“Harrison will find you.”
“Not before the authorities find him.”
“You still believe the authorities care?”
“I believe one honest person is enough.”
A door opened on the recording.
Then Harrison spoke.
“You always were sentimental, Evelyn.”
Michael gripped the edge of the table.
His father’s younger voice carried the same calm cruelty.
Evelyn replied, “And you always mistook cruelty for intelligence.”
Harrison laughed.
“You copied my files.”
“I preserved evidence.”
“You are my wife.”
“I was your prisoner.”
The tape captured a struggle.
Then a gunshot.
Laura covered her mouth.
Michael stopped breathing.
Samuel closed his eyes.
After several seconds, Evelyn spoke again, weakly.
“You will never find it.”
Harrison answered, “I do not need to. Michael will bring it to me one day.”
The cassette ended.
Michael stared at Samuel.
“You said she escaped.”
“She did.”
“There was a gunshot.”
“She was wounded, not killed.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I drove her away.”
The room fell silent.
Samuel admitted that he had taken Evelyn to a private clinic. She survived, but Harrison’s men began searching hospitals and roads.
“To protect you, she chose to disappear completely,” Samuel said.
“Where is she?”
“I truly don’t know.”
Officer Ramos examined the cassette.
“This recording may support several investigations, but by itself it does not prove where the shooting occurred or whether the voices are authentic.”
Michael stood.
“My father knew that.”
Harrison had given them evidence powerful enough to cause panic but incomplete enough to remain legally fragile.
He wanted Michael moving.
He wanted him searching.
Laura looked at the numbers Evelyn had spoken on the third cassette.
“Could they be coordinates?”
Samuel shook his head.
“Too many digits.”
Noah, sitting in the hallway with a child advocate, entered quietly.
He had overheard part of the conversation.
“Can I see them?”
Michael hesitated, then handed him the page.
Noah studied the sequence.
“These aren’t numbers.”
“What are they?”
“They’re book pages.”
Noah loved puzzles. Evelyn had apparently used a method from an old children’s book Michael remembered from childhood.
Each group represented a page, line, and word.
The book was The Secret Garden.
Michael still owned his mother’s copy.
At home, they decoded the message.
RED HOLLOW. CHAPEL FLOOR. BELOW THE BROKEN ANGEL.
Red Hollow was an abandoned mining settlement in the mountains.
They drove there the next morning with police protection.
The chapel stood at the center of the ruined town.
Inside, a stone angel lay broken beside the altar.
Beneath the floor, they found an iron safe.
It was empty.
Only one photograph remained.
It showed Harrison standing beside a younger man.
Michael recognized the man from old newspaper photographs.
Judge Thomas Kincaid.
Kincaid had signed the order transferring dozens of Red Hollow properties to Harrison’s company after a suspicious mine collapse.
On the back of the photograph was a recent date.
Someone had opened the safe only four days earlier.
Officer Ramos received a call.
Judge Kincaid had been found dead that morning.
The official cause appeared to be suicide.
Michael knew better.
Harrison was removing anyone connected to the archive.
That evening, Harrison finally called him directly.
“How is my grandson?”
Michael nearly crushed the phone.
“You don’t get to call him that.”
“He carries my blood.”
“He carries my name.”
“Names can change.”
“What do you want?”
“The archive.”
“It wasn’t at Red Hollow.”
“I know.”
“You moved it.”
“No. Your mother did.”
“She’s alive.”
Harrison paused.
“Samuel filled your head with hope.”
“You never found her body.”
“Neither did you.”
Michael closed his eyes.
“Did you kill Judge Kincaid?”
“Thomas died beneath the weight of his conscience.”
“You mean your secrets.”
“They are often the same thing.”
Harrison gave Michael another location: a retired bank building in Richmond.
“Come alone,” he said. “Bring the key.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother left something there that belongs to both of us.”
Michael refused.
Harrison laughed.
“You still believe you control the terms.”
A scream came from the backyard.
Michael ran outside.
Noah’s treehouse was on fire.
The child stood safely beside Laura, but flames consumed the wooden walls.
Painted across the fence in black letters were four words.
NEXT TIME, HE’S INSIDE.
Michael stared at the message.
May you like
Then he turned toward Samuel.
“We end this now.”
