Chapter 6 - THE VOICE ON THE TAPE
I wanted to play the cassette immediately.
Rebecca stopped me over the phone.
"Have it copied by a qualified evidence examiner first. Then listen to the working copy."
I followed her advice, although patience felt like a punishment.
The examination showed no obvious signs of splicing, and we sat together in Rebecca's conference room while Dad's voice filled the air for the first time in twenty-two years.
"My name is Daniel Bennett," he said.
The sound shattered something inside me.
I gripped the edge of the table.
"If this recording is being heard, I may have failed to resolve a dispute involving Bennett Industrial Holdings and a construction project called North Quay."
He named Grant as a business associate and described unusual invoices, missing safety reports, and pressure to transfer shares.
He did not claim that Grant planned to kill him.
He said he feared that powerful people would punish anyone who challenged the numbers.
"My daughter Claire is the intended beneficiary of the trust created for her education, housing, and long-term independence," Dad continued.
"I do not want her forced to depend on Marlene, Grant, or any future husband for the life she chooses."
Tears fell onto my knuckles.
He described a second ledger lodged with a professional custodian and told his future trustee to contact Samuel Keene if discrepancies appeared.
Then Dad's voice cracked.
"Claire, if you ever hear this, you were never a disappointment."
I covered my mouth.
"You were the best thing I ever helped make."
The tape clicked to silence.
No one spoke for nearly a minute.
Rebecca handed me a tissue.
"This establishes his intentions," she said gently. "It doesn't, by itself, prove a crime."
"I understand."
"Now we find the other ledger."
Miguel returned from a records search with a troubling discovery.
Samuel Keene had retired after a severe car accident; he lived in assisted care in another state.
Grant's company had paid the medical facility for years.
"Could be charitable support," Rebecca said.
"Could be control," Miguel replied.
That evening, I received a call from my mother.
I had blocked her number, but she borrowed another phone.
"Claire," she whispered, "please stop."
"Tell me what happened to Dad's shares."
"You don't understand the danger."
"Then explain it."
Her breath stuttered.
"Your father was going to tell the authorities everything."
I gripped the phone.
"What authorities?"
She began to cry.
"I tried to warn him."
A man's voice spoke sharply in the background.
Then the call ended.
One minute later, an unknown number sent a photograph of my SUV outside Rebecca's office.
Beneath it were four words.
May you like
SOLDIERS CAN STILL BLEED.
