PART 26 — THE VOICE ON THE RECORDER
Mark didn’t move.
Neither did I.
Margaret’s recorder sat in the middle of Thomas’s desk.
Carol’s voice continued.
“Alicia said Dorothy trusted Mark completely.”
Mark closed his eyes.
Then another voice came through.
Margaret’s.
“So your daughter used her husband?”
Carol answered:
“At first, Alicia thought Mark could simply ask Dorothy to sign.”
My stomach tightened.
At first.
Meaning the plan had changed.
Margaret’s recorded voice asked:
“And when Dorothy didn’t cooperate?”
Carol laughed.
“She didn’t even know she wasn’t cooperating.”
Thomas reached for his legal pad.
I put my hand over it.
“Just listen.”
For once, I didn’t want notes.
I wanted the truth.
Carol continued.
“Alicia spent three years learning what Dorothy owned, where she kept documents, who handled her affairs. She kept telling me the old woman would never notice.”
The old woman.
I looked at Mark.
He was staring at the floor.
Then Margaret’s voice:
“What about Silver Meadows?”
Carol answered:
“That came later. Daniel said if Dorothy wouldn’t sign voluntarily, we needed a cleaner way around her.”
Mark whispered, “Cleaner.”
Thomas looked at him.
Mark shook his head.
“They were talking about my mother like she was paperwork.”
The recording continued.
“Melissa could arrange the placement. Once Dorothy was documented as confused, Mark could take over.”
Margaret asked:
“Did Mark agree?”
That question stopped my heart.
Mark looked up.
Carol’s answer came:
“Mark knew they wanted Dorothy out of the house. He knew Alicia wanted the property sold. But no, he didn’t know the rest.”
My son covered his face.
It didn’t absolve him.
We both knew that.
But it drew the line clearly.
Mark had betrayed me.
Just not in every way I’d feared.
Then Carol said:
“Alicia kept him ignorant because she said Mark was too soft when it came to his mother.”
Mark laughed once.
Broken.
“Apparently not soft enough.”
I said nothing.
The recorder continued.
Margaret asked:
“And Dorothy’s signature?”
A long silence.
Then Carol:
“Daniel arranged that.”
Thomas immediately paused the recording.
“Daniel.”
I looked at him.
“The notary?”
“Possibly more.”
He resumed.
Margaret asked:
“Did Alicia know?”
Carol answered:
“Of course she knew.”
That hurt differently.
Because Alicia had sat at my kitchen table pretending the signature was mine.
She had looked directly into my face.
And lied.
Then came the sentence that made Thomas stop the recorder again.
Carol said:
“Once Dorothy was in Silver Meadows, Alicia wanted the house sold too. I told her it was unnecessary, but she said they might as well take everything while they had control.”
Everything.
My home had not been necessary to the land scheme.
My $184,900 house wasn’t part of some old family claim.
Neither were my dishes.
My photographs.
Raymond’s watch.
Those things were simply Alicia being greedy.
Mark stood.
“I need some air.”
He walked to the window.
I let him.
Margaret reached across the desk and touched my hand.
“There’s another part.”
I looked at her.
“Worse?”
“Different.”
She pressed play.
Her recorded voice asked Carol:
“Why December eighteenth?”
Carol answered:
“Because Benton needs the trustee issue resolved before the end of the year.”
Then Margaret:
“And if Dorothy refuses Silver Meadows?”
Carol’s answer came without hesitation.
“Alicia said she could get her there.”
“How?” I whispered.
Margaret looked at me.
“Listen.”
The recording continued.
“She planned to tell Dorothy Mark had been in an accident.”
My whole body went cold.
Mark turned from the window.
“What?”
Carol’s recorded voice continued.
“Get her into the car. Tell her they were going to the hospital. Melissa would handle things once they arrived.”
Mark stared at the recorder.
I couldn’t breathe for a moment.
They weren’t going to physically drag me from my house.
They were going to use the one thing they knew would make me leave without questions.
My son.
Mark sat beside me.
“Mom…”
I raised my hand.
Not yet.
I couldn’t comfort him yet.
Thomas stopped the recording.
“We have enough.”
“No.”
I looked at Margaret.
“Is there more?”
She nodded.
“Five minutes.”
“Play it.”
Carol and Margaret argued about the land.
Then about money.
Then finally Margaret asked:
“What happens if Dorothy discovers everything before the eighteenth?”
Carol was quiet.
When she answered, her voice was almost tired.
“Then Alicia has one last option.”
My fingers tightened around Raymond’s watch.
Margaret asked:
“What option?”
Carol replied:
“The Sunday call.”
Mark looked at me.
I looked at him.
Every Sunday.
Five o’clock.
Exactly eleven minutes.
Thomas leaned forward.
“What does that mean?”
The recording offered no answer.
Carol changed the subject.
A minute later, the conversation ended.
But I knew something none of them knew.
Something from Part 1 of this nightmare.
My son called me every Sunday at five.
Exactly eleven minutes.
For years, I had thought it was routine.
Now I wondered if someone had been using those calls for something else.
I looked at Mark.
“Tomorrow is Sunday.”
His face changed.
“Yes.”
“At five o’clock, you’re going to call me.”
“Mom—”
“Exactly the way you always do.”
Thomas immediately understood.
“And we’re going to find out what Alicia means by the Sunday call.”
I looked down at Raymond’s watch.
Then at Margaret’s recorder.
For the first time since 7:15 that morning, I wasn’t waiting for their plan to happen to me.
Tomorrow at five—
I was going to let them believe it still could.
