Chapter 13 - DANIEL'S ONE CHANCE TO TALK
The gunshot from Daniel's call seemed to remain in the room after the phone went dead.
Sophie had dropped her coloring pencil.
Sarah stood so quickly her chair struck the wall.
Leah was already speaking into her radio.
"Trace location now."
I stared at the silent phone.
"Call him back."
"Blocked relay number."
"Then trace it."
"We are."
"He said Dad found him."
"I heard."
"He could be dead."
Leah looked at me.
"We are moving as fast as we can."
The words were reasonable and unbearable.
I hated Daniel.
I hated what he had done.
I also could not make my mind accept the image of my brother bleeding somewhere while our father hunted him.
That contradiction felt like one more cruelty Richard had left for me.
Sophie whispered, "Did Grandpa shoot Uncle Daniel?"
"We don't know."
"He sounded scared."
"Yes."
"He made us scared."
"Yes."
She looked down.
"I still don't want him to die."
I sat beside her.
"Neither do I."
"Does that mean we forgive him?"
"No."
Sarah looked at me when I said it.
I thought of Mom's letter.
Listen once.
Do not confuse listening with forgiving.
Leah's technician traced Daniel's call to a tower cluster near Florence, Colorado.
That still covered miles of roads, motels, industrial lots, and open country.
State troopers began checking cameras.
At 8:41, a gas station clerk remembered a man matching Daniel's photograph buying gauze and bottled water.
At 8:52, surveillance footage showed him driving a stolen blue sedan east on Highway 115.
At 9:07, the sedan was found abandoned near an old church.
Blood marked the driver's seat.
No Daniel.
No Richard.
A trail of drops led behind the church and disappeared near a cemetery wall.
Leah drove there herself.
I stayed with Sophie because I had finally learned that following every danger personally was not the same thing as courage.
The next hour crawled.
At 10:16, Leah called.
"He's alive."
I closed my eyes.
"Where?"
"A maintenance shed behind the cemetery."
"How bad?"
"Bullet through the upper arm. He's lost blood but he is conscious."
"Dad?"
"Gone."
"Did Daniel see him?"
"Yes."
"Was it Dad who shot him?"
"Daniel says yes."
Sophie watched my face.
I gave her a small nod.
"Uncle Daniel is alive."
She breathed out.
Then her expression hardened again.
"Is he arrested?"
Leah heard the question through the phone.
"He is in custody."
Sophie nodded as if checking off a necessary item.
Daniel was taken to a secure trauma unit under armed guard.
His lawyer arrived before midnight.
By morning, he requested a formal proffer with prosecutors.
He wanted to cooperate.
He wanted protection from Richard.
He wanted a plea deal.
I wanted to hear him say what happened while looking at me.
The prosecutor initially refused direct contact.
Sarah argued that Mom's letter specifically suggested Daniel might possess information she wanted me to hear.
Leah compromised.
I could watch his recorded interview from another room.
I agreed.
Daniel looked terrible.
His left arm was bandaged and strapped against his chest.
A bruise darkened one cheek.
His hair was greasy.
For the first time in my life, my older brother looked small.
The prosecutor began with the mine.
"Did you push Melissa Hale into the north ventilation shaft?"
Daniel stared at the table.
"Yes."
The single word turned my stomach.
"Was it intentional?"
"Yes."
"Did you know Sophie Hale could fall with her?"
He hesitated.
"Yes."
"Did you intend for Sophie to fall?"
Another long pause.
"Dad said she had to."
"That is not what I asked."
Daniel closed his eyes.
"Yes."
I stopped breathing.
The prosecutor did not let him hide inside my father's orders.
"How?"
"Melissa reached for Sophie when I pushed."
"Did you know she would?"
"Dad positioned Sophie near the edge."
"Did Richard Hale touch Sophie?"
Daniel looked toward the camera without knowing I was watching.
"He moved her by the shoulder right before I pushed Melissa."
My memory flashed.
I had turned toward Daniel.
I had not seen my father shift behind Sophie.
"Why?"
"So Melissa would grab her."
My father had used my reflex to save my child as part of the mechanism that pulled her over the edge.
I pressed my fist against my mouth.
The prosecutor continued.
"How long was the plan discussed?"
"About two weeks."
"Who proposed killing Melissa?"
"Dad."
"Who proposed killing Sophie?"
Daniel's face twisted.
"Dad said there was no point unless both were gone."
"Did you object?"
"At first."
"What changed?"
"He showed me the Northstar contract."
"Explain."
Daniel took a breath.
"My company owed Northstar-linked lenders around three million. Dad had guaranteed part of it using Silver Creek revenue that didn't exist yet. If the option failed, they could force bankruptcy and refer the false collateral documents to federal prosecutors."
"So you killed your sister to avoid financial consequences."
"I didn't kill her."
The prosecutor's stare hardened.
"You tried."
Daniel looked down.
"Yes."
I appreciated the prosecutor for not allowing language to become another hiding place.
"What was the plan after the fall?"
"Leave them in the shaft. Cal would seal the south drainage and the main blast would collapse the vent. Owen would report they entered the restricted section on their own."
"What if bodies were recovered?"
"Dad said the injuries would look consistent with a fall and collapse."
"What about the trust?"
"Carla had drafted a petition saying Melissa died without accepting trusteeship and that Richard should remain administrator until Sophie turned eighteen."
"But Sophie was supposed to be dead too."
"Then Dad planned to argue no protected beneficiary survived."
"Was that legally correct?"
"Sarah Lin would say no."
"Then why do it?"
"Delay."
"For what purpose?"
"Northstar only needed temporary access to start drilling. Once the site was disturbed and money moved, Dad thought no court would unwind everything."
I realized then that my father did not need a permanent legal victory.
He only needed enough time to create facts on the ground.
The prosecutor moved to my mother.
"What do you know about Evelyn Hale's death?"
Daniel's face changed.
"Not enough."
"What do you know?"
"Dad came to my apartment the night before Mom crashed."
My heart hammered.
"He was angry. He said Mom was trying to ruin the family."
"Did he mention her car?"
"No."
"Did he have tools?"
"He had a small black case."
The same case shown on the garage camera.
"What happened the next day?"
"Mom died."
"What did Richard say?"
Daniel swallowed.
"He said, 'Your mother made a choice.'"
I closed my eyes.
"Did you ask what that meant?"
"I was twenty-nine. I knew what it sounded like."
"Did you report it?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because Owen Mercer came to the house that night and told us the brakes failed because of crash damage."
"Did you believe him?"
Daniel looked directly at the prosecutor.
"I wanted to."
"That is not the same thing."
"No."
Then came the red ledger.
"What is it?"
Daniel shook his head.
"I have never seen it."
"Then how do you know it exists?"
"Dad has talked about it for years."
"What does he think is in it?"
"Mom's handwritten payment list. Names, dates, amounts, favors. Dad says she kept a red book separate from the formal evidence because she wanted a human record of who knew what."
"Why does he think Sophie knows where it is?"
Daniel hesitated.
"Because Mom told him she had given it to someone he would never search."
"And he concluded that person was a three-year-old child?"
"Not immediately."
"What changed?"
"After Mom's funeral, Dad searched her office, the bank, Sarah's old office, Ruth's museum, and my house. He found nothing. Then he remembered Sophie kept asking for 'Grandma's red story.'"
I felt a memory stir.
Sophie had been three.
For months after Mom died, she asked for a red book at bedtime.
I thought she meant a picture book Mom used to read.
I never found it.
Daniel continued.
"Dad asked you about it once. You said you didn't know what Sophie meant."
I remembered.
It had been an ordinary conversation in the kitchen.
Richard asked whether Evelyn left Sophie any special books.
I said there were boxes everywhere and I would look later.
I had forgotten the exchange within an hour.
My father had not.
"Where did Evelyn's children's things go?" the prosecutor asked.
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
"Dad donated most of Mom's books to the Silver Creek museum."
Ruth's museum.
The place my father hated.
The place my mother trusted.
The prosecutor paused the interview.
I was already calling Ruth.
She answered on the second ring.
"Melissa?"
"Do you still have the boxes Dad donated after Mom died?"
"Some are in storage. Why?"
"Was there a red children's book?"
Silence.
"Ruth?"
"There was a red book with no title."
My pulse jumped.
"Where is it?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean?"
"I saw it last year when we moved the archive. It was too damaged to catalog, so I put it in the back room."
A beep sounded on her end.
Then another.
"What is that?"
Ruth stopped talking.
"Museum alarm."
My blood went cold.
"Are you there now?"
"I'm across the street at the cafe."
"Do not go inside."
May you like
I heard a window break through her phone.
Ruth whispered, "Someone is already in there."
