Chapter 8 - THE VOICE BEHIND THE LIE
Police copied every file on Oliver’s recorder.
There were forty-seven recordings.
Some were only minutes long.
Others lasted hours.
Nathan listened to them in chronological order.
The first recording had been made eight months earlier.
Oliver’s breathing could be heard close to the microphone.
Then Vanessa’s voice entered through the vent.
“He still thinks Nathan is searching.”
Gavin laughed.
“That will fade.”
Vanessa answered.
“Children eventually accept whatever reality keeps them alive.”
Nathan stopped the audio.
He had to walk away.
Brooks waited until he returned.
The next recording contained Conrad Shaw.
The attorney sounded nervous.
“The death certificate creates the presumption we need.”
Vanessa replied.
“Then why is the trust still frozen?”
“Because Nathan refuses to close the estate.”
“He keeps funding searches.”
Vanessa sounded irritated.
“Then make him stop.”
Nathan remembered that period.
Conrad had repeatedly advised him that continuing private searches was damaging the company.
He claimed investors were worried about Nathan’s emotional state.
Nathan had ignored him.
The recordings became darker.
Dr. Pierce discussed sedatives.
Gavin complained about Oliver crying at night.
Vanessa demanded the west-wing renovation begin early because contractors could disguise construction noise.
Then came a recording from six weeks earlier.
Conrad spoke.
“The foundation transfer solves the voting issue.”
Vanessa answered.
“And after Nathan signs?”
“We wait.”
“For what?”
“An accident.”
Nathan went completely still.
Brooks looked at him.
The recording continued.
Vanessa’s voice lowered.
“You promised me Nathan would not be a problem after the gala.”
Conrad replied.
“He won’t be.”
Nathan stopped the audio.
“They were going to kill me.”
Brooks nodded.
“It sounds that way.”
Nathan laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the scale of the betrayal had exceeded anger.
Oliver had been declared dead.
Nathan was scheduled to die next.
Julian would then become Vanessa’s publicly acknowledged son.
Through the foundation and estate structure, the family’s controlling shares could be redirected.
It was not a spontaneous crime.
It was succession by manufactured tragedy.
Brooks played the final recording.
It had been captured three nights before Nathan broke the wall.
Vanessa and Gavin were arguing.
“We have to move the boy.”
Gavin sounded frightened.
“He heard too much.”
“He’s eight.”
“He records things.”
Silence.
Then Vanessa said, “What?”
Nathan’s pulse jumped.
Gavin continued.
“I found wires near the vent.”
“You searched him?”
“He hid something.”
Vanessa’s voice became ice.
“Find it.”
“And if I can’t?”
A long silence followed.
Then Vanessa answered.
“The gala gives us cover.”
“Tomorrow night the west wing will be full of workers.”
“After that, there should be nothing left in the wall for Nathan to find.”
Nathan stopped breathing.
The recording had been made one day before the gala.
If he had not heard the knocking, Oliver might have disappeared permanently.
Brooks looked shaken despite years as a detective.
“Your son knew they were coming.”
Nathan nodded.
That explained the scratching.
The knocking.
Oliver had understood that time was running out.
Then a forensic officer entered.
“We traced Vanessa’s burner phone.”
Brooks stood.
“Where?”
“It activated thirty minutes ago.”
“Location?”
The officer placed a map on the screen.
A motel near Interstate 87.
Nathan moved toward the door.
Brooks blocked him.
“No.”
“She has Miriam.”
“We don’t know that.”
“She has someone.”
Brooks stared at him.
“How do you know?”
Nathan pointed to the final waveform.
“There’s another voice.”
The technician amplified the background.
At first there was only static.
Then everyone heard it.
A woman whispered from somewhere beyond the library.
“Please don’t let them move me again.”
May you like
Nathan looked at Brooks.
It was Miriam.
