Chapter 6 - THE NIGHT MY FATHER DIED
My father died on a Tuesday.
I remembered every detail.
The rain.
The hospital lights.
The smell of coffee in the waiting room.
Julian standing beside me, telling me not to worry.
Mom crying silently.
The doctors said it was a heart attack.
Sudden.
Unavoidable.
At least, that was what we had been told.
Now my mother was telling me something different.
“Your father was afraid,” she whispered.
“Of what?”
“Julian.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
Mom sat down on the edge of the old dock.
“He had discovered money missing from the family business.”
“How much?”
“Almost $600,000.”
I looked at the ledger.
“Did he confront Julian?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“They fought.”
“Physically?”
“No.”
Mom stared at the lake.
“Your father told Julian he was going to report him.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“Two days before he died.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“What did Julian say?”
“He said Dad would regret destroying his own son.”
I closed my eyes.
That sentence had been buried for twelve years.
And now it had returned.
We went back to the city that night.
Marcus immediately began reviewing the old death records.
He couldn't reopen a case himself.
But he could ask questions.
The next morning, he contacted a retired detective who had worked the original investigation.
The detective agreed to meet.
His name was Harold Pierce.
He arrived at a small diner.
He looked older than I expected.
When I mentioned my father, he became quiet.
“I remember him.”
“Do you remember the case?”
“Some of it.”
“What was unusual?”
He took a sip of coffee.
“Your brother arrived at the hospital before the ambulance.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Your father collapsed at home. Julian called 911.”
“So?”
“The timeline didn't make sense.”
“How?”
“Julian said he had been across town.”
“But?”
“The emergency call came from your father's house.”
I felt my heart begin to pound.
“Was that investigated?”
“Not properly.”
“Why?”
The detective looked at me.
“Because someone from the department pressured the investigator to close it quickly.”
“Who?”
He hesitated.
Then he gave me a name.
Chief Daniel Mercer.
Marcus immediately looked up.
“Related to Charles Mercer?”
“His brother.”
I felt sick.
The same family connected to the financial records.
The same family connected to my brother.
The same family connected to my father's unexplained death.
Harold leaned closer.
“There was another thing.”
“What?”
“Your father had a bruise on his arm.”
I stared at him.
“From the heart attack?”
“No.”
“Why wasn't it mentioned?”
“Because the medical examiner considered it irrelevant.”
“Was it?”
Harold looked at me.
“Your father was right-handed.”
I understood.
The bruise had been on his left arm.
Someone had grabbed him.
That afternoon, Marcus found something in the old records.
A call from my father's phone to a number registered to Charles Mercer.
The call lasted nine minutes.
It happened forty minutes before the emergency call.
Then there was another detail.
The phone had been wiped.
The call history had been deleted.
Except for one backup.
A forgotten cloud archive.
The recording was incomplete.
But we could hear my father's voice.
“Julian, you need to leave.”
Then another voice.
“Dad, you don't understand.”
My father's voice became angry.
“You stole from me.”
A crash.
Then silence.
The recording ended.
I listened to it three times.
My mother cried quietly.
Then my phone rang.
This time, the caller ID showed a name.
Julian.
I answered.
“You've been asking questions.”
“Yes.”
“Stop.”
“No.”
“You think you can destroy me?”
“I think you already did that yourself.”
He laughed.
“You have no idea what I'm capable of.”
I looked at my mother.
Then at the evidence spread across the table.
“Actually, Julian.”
I paused.
“I think I'm beginning to understand.”
He became silent.
Then he said:
“Mom will never testify against me.”
I looked at my mother.
She took my hand.
And for the first time in twelve years, she spoke loudly enough for him to hear.
“I'm not afraid of you anymore.”
Julian hung up.
That evening, a car followed us.
Then another.
Marcus noticed.
He immediately called the police.
But before the officers arrived, a message appeared on my phone.
The lake house burns tonight.
May you like
I looked toward the window.
In the distance, the sky above the lake was glowing orange.
