Chapter 3: The Voice of the Dead
I couldn’t speak.
The phone trembled against my ear.
Because I knew that voice.
I had heard it when I was a child.
I had heard it when my father taught me how to ride a bike.
I had heard it when he told me he was proud of me.
But that man was dead.
“Dad?””
The silence on the other end lasted three seconds.
Then a quiet laugh answered.
“You always were slower than your brother.””
My stomach dropped.
I looked at Michael.
He was staring at me with fear.
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Lily moved closer to my side.
“Daddy?””
I forced myself to breathe.
“How are you alive?””
The voice remained calm.
“I never said I was dead.””
My mind raced.
The funeral.
The grave.
The tears.
Everything.
“What is this?”” I demanded.
“Where are you?””
“Somewhere you’ll never find me.””
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“You kept Michael locked in my house.””
A pause.
Then:
“I kept him alive.””
Michael shouted.
“Don’t listen to him!””
The voice on the phone changed.
“Michael always was dramatic.””
My brother stepped forward.
“You ruined my life!””
The voice ignored him.
“Mark, you need to understand something. Your brother was dangerous.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Dangerous?””
“He betrayed the family.””
“You kidnapped him.””
“No.””
The voice became colder.
“I protected the family.””
I looked at Vanessa.
She was crying.
“Why?”” I asked.
The answer came immediately.
“Because Michael found something he shouldn’t have.””
“What?””
Silence.
Then my father said:
“The truth about your mother’s death.””
I froze.
My mother had died when I was twenty.
A heart attack.
That was what everyone told me.
“What does Michael know?””
My father didn’t answer.
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Nobody moved.
Finally, Michael spoke.
“He knows you’ll start looking.””
I turned toward him.
“Looking for what?””
Michael swallowed.
“The evidence.””
I stepped closer.
“What evidence?””
He looked at Vanessa.
She nodded slowly.
“Mark…”
Her voice broke.
“There is something your father never wanted you to see.””
She walked to the bookshelf beside the hidden room.
For a moment, she hesitated.
Then she removed a book.
Behind it was another small compartment.
I stared.
“How many secrets are inside this house?””
Vanessa didn’t answer.
She pulled out a small envelope.
The paper was old.
My name was written across the front.
My handwriting.
But I didn’t remember writing it.
“What is that?”” I asked.
Michael looked shocked.
“Where did you get that?””
Vanessa handed it to me.
“Your father left it here.””
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
My younger self stood beside Michael.
We were teenagers.
Behind us was our mother.
But someone had written something on the back.
A message.
A warning.
My hands shook as I read it.
*Mark, if you are reading this, it means your father found out. Do not trust anyone who tells you I died naturally.*
I looked up.
“My mother wrote this?””
Michael nodded.
“She discovered what he was doing.””
I stared at the photograph.
The entire world I knew was falling apart.
Then Lily suddenly pointed toward the hallway.
“Daddy.””
I turned.
“What?””
She looked frightened.
“There was someone else.””
The room went silent.
“What do you mean?””
“When I brought food to Uncle Michael yesterday…”
She hugged herself.
“I heard Grandpa talking.””
My heart stopped.
“You heard Grandpa?””
She nodded.
“He told someone that today would be the last day Uncle Michael stayed here.””
Michael’s face changed.
“He knew I was going to be found.””
Vanessa grabbed my arm.
“Mark, we need to leave.””
A sound came from downstairs.
The front door opening.
Nobody had unlocked it.
Nobody had entered.
But footsteps slowly moved across the floor.
Heavy.
Slow.
Familiar.
Michael whispered one sentence.
And every piece of me went cold.
“Your father didn’t come here yesterday.””
May you like
He stared toward the staircase.
“He never left.””
