For a moment, I could hear nothing except the blood pounding in my ears.
Daniel had called me at 10:17 p.m.
Three years ago.
The night before he died.
I had seen the missed call the next morning, assumed he had dialed accidentally, and then spent the rest of that day at the hospital.
I had never checked whether he left a message.
Laura knew about it.
That meant someone had accessed my old phone records.
Or someone had been close enough to Daniel to know exactly what happened.
The officer kept his weapon trained on Marcus.
“Everybody stay where you are.”
Laura's eyes remained on me.
“Your husband left a voicemail.”
“Where is it?”
“You tell me.”
“I don't have it.”
“You never listened to it?”
“No.”
“Then you don't know what Daniel tried to tell you.”
Marcus shifted beside her.
The officer noticed.
“Don't move.”
Marcus stopped.
Peter whispered,
“Laura, this is over.”
She looked at him.
“You've been saying that for three years.”
“I should have stopped it sooner.”
“Yes.”
Her voice held no anger.
That was somehow worse.
The officer ordered Laura to place her hands on the wall.
She did.
Marcus followed.
Within minutes, both were restrained.
But Laura kept looking at me.
“You should listen to the message.”
I asked the officer to secure the room before we left.
The memory card remained hidden in my hand.
I didn't trust anyone enough to surrender it immediately.
Not even Peter.
Not yet.
At the station, investigators recovered my old phone records.
The voicemail existed.
It had never been deleted.
I stared at the screen while the technician restored the file.
My hands shook.
Then Daniel's voice filled the room.
“Laura, it's me.”
I closed my eyes.
His voice sounded exactly as I remembered.
Tired.
Quiet.
Trying not to frighten me.
“I need you to listen carefully.”
A pause.
“If I don't call again, don't believe everything they tell you.”
My breath caught.
“There is something I found.”
Another pause.
“I don't know who I can trust.”
Then the recording became muffled.
Daniel said one word I couldn't understand.
The technician cleaned the audio.
We played it again.
This time I heard it.
“Peter.”
I looked at Peter.
Daniel continued.
“If Peter comes to you, listen to him.”
Then the message ended.
Nothing about Marcus.
Nothing about Laura.
Nothing about the warehouse.
Just Peter.
Peter looked devastated.
“He was trying to protect me.”
“From what?”
“From Laura.”
I stared at him.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“That isn't enough.”
Peter lowered his head.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
The technician spoke.
“There may be another section.”
He enhanced the file.
Static.
Then Daniel again.
“Laura has the hospital records.”
I felt cold.
“She knows about the medication.”
Then a second voice appeared faintly.
A woman's.
Laura.
“Daniel, please.”
Then Daniel said,
“You're too late.”
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
The officer looked at me.
“That gives us a reason to reopen the death investigation.”
Peter nodded.
“It should never have been closed the way it was.”
I stared at him.
“Then help us.”
“I will.”
The officer took the memory card from me.
This time, I let him.
He examined the contents.
There were hundreds of files.
Payment records.
Scanned documents.
Audio.
Photographs.
Names.
Dates.
And one folder marked DANIEL — FINAL.
The officer opened it.
Inside was a single document.
Daniel had written it himself.
It contained a timeline of the warehouse investigation.
At the bottom was a sentence that made my stomach tighten.
If I die, look at the night of October 14.
The officer frowned.
“What happened October 14?”
I knew immediately.
“That was the night Daniel died.”
Peter shook his head.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Daniel died October 15.”
He pointed at the timeline.
“October 14 was the night he went to see someone.”
“Who?”
Peter looked toward the officer.
“Samuel.”
I remembered the phone call.
The strange warning.
The missing man.
The false identity.
Everything was connected.
But there was one thing I couldn't understand.
“If Daniel met Samuel that night, why did Samuel disappear?”
Peter looked at me.
“Because someone followed them.”
“Who?”
“Marcus.”
The officer wrote it down.
“Where did they meet?”
“Old river warehouse.”
I felt a chill.
“Was Laura there?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Peter hesitated.
“I didn't see her.”
That wasn't the same as saying no.
The officer noticed it too.
He asked Peter,
“What happened after Daniel left Samuel?”
“He called me.”
“From where?”
“The hospital parking lot.”
“Why?”
“He said Samuel had been attacked.”
My heart dropped.
“Attacked?”
“Yes.”
“Was Samuel alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
Peter swallowed.
“Daniel drove him somewhere safe.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
Peter looked toward me.
“That's what I was trying to find out when Daniel arrived at the hospital.”
I stared at him.
“You knew Samuel was alive.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told anyone?”
“I was afraid they would find him.”
“Did they?”
Peter shook his head.
“I don't know.”
The officer received another message.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He read it twice.
Then he looked at me.
“They found a vehicle.”
“Whose?”
“Samuel Price's.”
“Where?”
“Near the river warehouse.”
My heart sank.
The investigation had just moved from old records to something physical.
Something recent.
The officer stood.
“We're going.”
Peter followed.
I started toward the door.
He stopped me.
“Laura.”
“What?”
“If we find Samuel's car, prepare yourself.”
“For what?”
He looked away.
“For the possibility that he never made it out.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: Samuel’s Abandoned Car Held a Photograph That Proved Someone Had Been Following Daniel Long Before His Death
The Money My Son Hid Wasn’t for the Bicycle He Had Been Dreaming About
Part 9 of 20
