Daniel took the phone from my hand and stared at the photograph.
The image had been shot through Caleb’s bedroom window from across the yard or street. The angle was slightly elevated, perhaps taken from inside a vehicle. Daniel’s shoulder was visible beside me. The laptop screen glowed between us.
There was no doubt about timing.
The picture had been taken while Frank Delaney’s confession played.
“Downstairs,” Daniel whispered.
I resisted.
“Why?”
“Because anyone outside can see us here.”
He closed the laptop but did not shut it down.
We moved into the hallway without turning on lights.
My house, the place that had held two decades of birthdays, illnesses, arguments, Christmas mornings and grief, suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Every window became an opening.
Every shadow a possibility.
Daniel checked the front room through the side of the curtains.
“No vehicle parked directly outside.”
“They could’ve left.”
“Or parked farther down.”
I locked the deadbolt although it was already locked.
“Call the police,” Daniel said.
“Which police?”
“Claire.”
“David specifically warned against local police.”
“That was ten years ago.”
“And someone photographed us five minutes ago.”
Daniel ran a hand over his face.
He knew I was right about one thing: blindly trusting the nearest uniform suddenly felt impossible.
“State police, then.”
“Marianne Holt.”
“If she’s alive.”
“I’m finding out.”
I carried David’s letter to the kitchen.
The old number he had written beneath Marianne Holt’s name had a local area code. I entered it into my phone.
Disconnected.
Of course.
Ten years was a long time.
Daniel searched the name online.
“There are several Marianne Holts.”
“Add investigator.”
He did.
“Here.”
He turned the screen toward me.
Marianne J. Holt.
Former investigator with the state attorney general’s office.
Retired.
A photograph showed a woman in her sixties with close-cropped gray hair and dark glasses.
The article was five years old.
“What does it say?”
“She retired after thirty-one years.”
“Can we find a number?”
“Probably.”
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
Another text.
YOU HAVE WHAT DAVID LEFT. THAT IS ENOUGH.
Daniel looked at it.
“They know.”
My skin went cold.
“How?”
“They could’ve watched you search.”
“The garage windows.”
“Or Caleb told someone.”
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
I looked toward the ceiling, toward Caleb’s bedroom.
“He hid the recording.”
“Which means he expected someone to need it.”
That was true.
I hated that it was true.
We searched Caleb’s laptop again, this time from the kitchen where the curtains were heavier.
The folder labeled D.M. contained more than a hundred items.
Caleb had organized everything by categories.
BELLWATER.
THOMAS.
COLE.
DELANEY.
HALE.
EMILY.
And one folder labeled P.S.
I opened it.
Patricia Shaw.
Inside were screenshots from property databases, an old obituary, social media pages and a scanned newspaper clipping.
Patricia Bennett Shaw had been Thomas’s older sister by four years.
She had worked as a middle-school librarian before retiring.
According to Caleb’s notes, she lived seventy-three miles away in a small town called Millhaven.
One line was highlighted:
CONTACTED. AGREED TO MEET.
I stopped.
“Caleb already found her.”
Daniel leaned over my shoulder.
“When?”
I opened the next document.
There was a date.
Five weeks earlier.
Caleb had met Patricia before meeting Delaney.
“Why did he talk to Delaney afterward?”
Daniel asked.
“Maybe Patricia told him something he wanted confirmed.”
I clicked another file.
It was a text document titled MEETING NOTES.
The first line read:
Patricia is afraid but not confused.
I swallowed.
Caleb wrote that Patricia initially refused to discuss Thomas. He told her he was David Mercer’s son.
That changed everything.
According to the notes, Patricia remembered David’s name.
Thomas had spoken about him before disappearing.
He told Patricia that David had tried to help.
More importantly, Thomas arrived at Patricia’s house with Emily before dawn after the Bellwater incident.
Thomas was injured.
Bleeding from a cut near his scalp.
His left shoulder was badly damaged.
Emily was soaked and barely responsive.
Patricia demanded they go to a hospital.
Thomas refused at first.
Eventually he allowed Patricia to take Emily.
Before they separated, Thomas gave Patricia something.
I read faster.
A small black memory card.
Daniel whispered, “There it is.”
Caleb’s notes continued.
Thomas told Patricia to hide it.
He said people had died because of what was on it.
Patricia asked whether David was dead.
Thomas began crying.
He said, “Not when I left.”
My stomach turned.
Those words aligned with Delaney’s confession.
David was alive.
Thomas knew it.
Patricia asked why Thomas left him.
According to Caleb’s notes, Thomas said David ordered him to take Emily and go.
Thomas wanted to stay.
David told him the girl mattered more than evidence.
So Thomas took her.
For the first time, some of my anger toward Thomas loosened.
He had not simply abandoned David.
David sent him away.
That sounded like my husband.
Infuriatingly.
Painfully.
Exactly like him.
“What happened to the card?” Daniel asked.
I kept reading.
Patricia hid it for years.
Not in her house.
She refused to tell Caleb where.
He apparently pushed.
She refused again.
Then came a line that made my heart speed up.
She says she no longer has it.
Daniel frowned.
“Then who does?”
I scrolled.
Patricia told Caleb that six years after Thomas died, she received an envelope with no return address.
Inside was a photograph of her front porch.
On the back someone had written:
WE KNOW.
She panicked.
Within days, she moved the memory card.
Not to a bank.
Not to a friend.
She gave it to someone who could disappear it legally.
Caleb had written:
Attorney? Clergy? State investigator? She would not say.
Below that:
She agreed to contact me if she decides to reveal location.
Then another note dated thirteen days later:
PAT CALLED. WANTS SECOND MEETING.
My hands trembled.
I opened the next file.
There were no notes.
Only an audio recording.
Daniel and I looked at each other.
I pressed play.
Caleb’s voice came first.
“Patricia, I’m recording this because I don’t trust myself to remember everything.”
An older woman replied.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“If you want, I’ll turn it off.”
A pause.
“No. Leave it. Maybe somebody should have done this years ago.”
Her voice was gentle.
Tired.
She sounded nothing like the frightening figure the secrecy had created in my mind.
Caleb asked, “You said you wanted to tell me where the card is.”
“I said I would tell you something about it.”
“Okay.”
Patricia breathed deeply.
“Your father should not have died.”
“I know.”
“No. I mean medically.”
Caleb said nothing.
Patricia continued.
“Thomas believed David was injured, but conscious. He told Thomas to leave. Thomas thought police would come.”
“They did.”
“Too late.”
Caleb asked, “How did Thomas know that?”
“He called someone the next day.”
“Who?”
“Frank Delaney.”
Daniel swore softly.
On the recording, Caleb asked the same question.
“Why Delaney?”
“Thomas found his card in David’s jacket pocket.”
That was new.
David had apparently carried Delaney’s contact information.
I felt sick at the implication.
Perhaps David thought Delaney was trustworthy before that night.
Patricia said Thomas called from a pay phone.
Delaney told him David died at the scene.
Thomas did not believe him.
He insisted David had been alive.
Delaney told him to disappear if he wanted Emily to stay safe.
Caleb asked, “Did Thomas ever talk to him again?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“About two months later.”
“What happened?”
“Delaney warned him people were looking for him.”
“Cole?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hale?”
Patricia went silent.
Caleb immediately noticed.
“You know that name.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Thomas wrote it down.”
“Where?”
“In a notebook.”
“Do you have it?”
“No.”
“What happened to it?”
“I burned it.”
Caleb sounded frustrated.
“Why?”
“Because I had an eight-year-old niece sleeping in my guest room and a brother hiding under another name. I wasn’t thinking about preserving evidence for a case. I was thinking about keeping them alive.”
Caleb softened.
“Fair.”
Patricia continued.
“But before I burned it, I read everything.”
“And Hale was in it.”
“Victor Hale. Thomas believed he was the person feeding information to Cole.”
“Was he at Bellwater?”
“Thomas thought so.”
My pulse jumped.
Caleb said, “Thought?”
“He never saw his face clearly.”
“Then why Hale?”
“Voice.”
Daniel and I looked at each other.
Thomas heard the second man.
Patricia explained.
Thomas recognized the voice because Hale had called him before.
Hale had apparently warned Thomas that David was asking dangerous questions.
When the second vehicle arrived at Bellwater, Thomas heard the same voice.
Caleb asked, “So Hale was there.”
“Thomas believed he was.”
“Did he see Hale hurt my father?”
Another long pause.
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“There was a fight. Raymond Cole attacked Thomas. David tried to intervene. Someone drove one vehicle toward them. It struck another car.”
“Who was driving?”
“Thomas didn’t know.”
“And after?”
“David got Emily behind the barrier.”
“That matches her memory.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“Thomas was hurt. Cole was hurt. David helped Thomas up.”
“What did Hale do?”
“Thomas said Hale disappeared for several minutes.”
“Where?”
“He didn’t know.”
“When did Delaney arrive?”
“Later.”
“How much later?”
“Thomas never knew exactly.”
Caleb asked, “Then why did Thomas run?”
Patricia’s voice became strained.
“Because David told him to.”
“Why?”
“He believed police were coming.”
“Were they?”
“Eventually.”
“Then why take the memory card?”
“David made him.”
I leaned toward the laptop.
Caleb sounded surprised too.
“What?”
“Thomas tried to give it to him. David refused.”
“Why?”
“He said Thomas had to keep it away from everyone until he could get Emily safe.”
That changed the sequence again.
David knew evidence might still be compromised.
He trusted Thomas with the card.
Caleb asked, “Did Thomas ever try to give it to authorities afterward?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Months later.”
“To whom?”
Patricia paused.
“Marianne Holt.”
My chest tightened.
There she was again.
Caleb asked, “Did she get it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Thomas never made the meeting.”
Silence.
“When was the meeting?”
“The day he died.”
Daniel whispered, “God.”
Patricia continued.
“Thomas called me that morning. He said he was done running. He had arranged to meet Holt in another state.”
“And then his car burned.”
“Yes.”
“Accident?”
“I never believed it.”
“Did Holt know about the card?”
“She knew Thomas claimed to have evidence.”
“But not where he kept it.”
“No.”
“So after Thomas died, you still had it.”
“Yes.”
Caleb asked, “Where is it now?”
Patricia did not answer.
“Patricia.”
“I gave it to someone.”
“Who?”
“I promised I would never say over a phone or recording.”
“Then turn the recording off.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if anything happens to me, I want this much preserved.”
Caleb was quiet.
Patricia continued.
“I will tell you only in person, without electronics, if I decide you need to know.”
“I’m here in person.”
“You brought your phone.”
“I can leave it outside.”
“No.”
“What are you afraid of?”
She laughed sadly.
“At my age? Mostly that I will survive long enough to regret another decision.”
Caleb did not push immediately.
Then:
“Does my mother need to know what’s on the card?”
Patricia answered quickly.
“Yes.”
The word chilled me.
“What’s on it?” Caleb asked.
“Transaction records. Names. Dates. Insurance claim numbers.”
“Anything about my father?”
“There is one audio file.”
I froze.
Daniel leaned toward the speaker.
Caleb’s voice sharpened.
“Audio?”
“Thomas recorded a conversation.”
“With who?”
“Victor Hale.”
“Before Bellwater?”
“Yes.”
“What does it prove?”
“That Hale knew David was investigating him.”
“That’s motive.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Patricia’s breathing became audible.
“Thomas recorded Hale saying that if David came to the lake, they would make sure he stopped asking questions.”
The kitchen felt suddenly colder.
Caleb said, “That sounds like a threat.”
“It was.”
“Did Hale admit to killing him?”
“No.”
“Then the card proves conspiracy but not murder.”
“It proves enough to reopen everything.”
Caleb went quiet.
Then he asked the question I would have asked.
“Why didn’t you turn it over years ago?”
Patricia started crying.
“I was afraid.”
There was no defense in her voice.
Only shame.
“Thomas was dead. David was dead. I had Emily in my life. Laura barely knew what Thomas had gotten involved with. Somebody was watching my house. I convinced myself the truth wouldn’t bring anyone back.”
Caleb replied softly, “I understand fear.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I do.”
The recording grew quiet.
Then Patricia said, “There is something else.”
“What?”
“Someone contacted me after you first came here.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“They didn’t give a name.”
“What did they say?”
“That David Mercer’s son was dying and should spend his remaining time with his mother instead of digging up old graves.”
Caleb did not speak for several seconds.
Then:
“They knew I was sick.”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“No.”
“Then whoever called was already watching me.”
“Yes.”
“Did you recognize the voice?”
“No.”
“Man or woman?”
“Man.”
“How old?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“Anything distinctive?”
“He said one thing that frightened me.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘Frank should have kept his mouth shut the first time.’”
Daniel and I looked at each other.
Caleb asked, “Delaney?”
“I think so.”
“Then whoever called knows I contacted Frank.”
“Yes.”
Caleb exhaled.
“Did you tell him about the card?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Caleb.”
“What?”
“You need to stop.”
The phrase sounded almost identical to Delaney.
Caleb replied, “Everyone keeps telling me that.”
“This isn’t bravery.”
“I know.”
“You cannot protect your mother by making someone angry enough to hurt her.”
His answer came quietly.
“That’s why I need to finish before I die.”
My eyes closed.
Patricia began to cry again.
“No nineteen-year-old should have to say that.”
“No. But here we are.”
After several seconds, she said, “I’ll make you a deal.”
“What?”
“I won’t give you the card.”
Caleb sighed.
“But,” Patricia continued, “I will leave instructions for your mother.”
My eyes snapped open.
“What instructions?”
“She can retrieve it if two things happen.”
“What two?”
“First, she must hear the truth from Frank Delaney.”
Daniel whispered, “Done.”
Caleb asked, “And second?”
Patricia said, “She must bring me David’s letter.”
I stared at the pages on the table.
The recording ended.
For a moment, neither Daniel nor I moved.
Then my phone vibrated again.
Another unknown text.
This time there was no photograph.
Only an address.
Millhaven.
Patricia Shaw’s address.
Below it:
SHE WILL GET YOU KILLED.
Daniel stared at the screen.
“Someone really doesn’t want you going there.”
I looked at David’s letter.
Then at Caleb’s notes.
“Which is exactly why I’m going.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: Patricia Knew Where Thomas Hid the Evidence, but She Recognized the Threatening Voice Before I Even Played the Recording
At My Son’s Funeral, a Stranger Handed Me a Letter He Had Written for a Girl I Had Never Met
Part 6 of 43
