Chapter 8: The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Detective Harris closed the door behind her.
Karen sat frozen beside my bed, holding the photograph as though it might burn her fingers.
I couldn't stop staring at it.
The man in the picture looked ordinary. Dark jacket. Short hair. A faint scar beside his left eyebrow.
He could have been anyone.
But Karen had recognized him immediately.
And she had just told a police detective that a man officially presumed dead had visited our house three nights earlier.
Harris pulled a chair toward Karen.
“Start at the beginning.””
Karen shook her head.
“I don't know where to start.””
“Start with the night he came to your house.””
She wiped her cheeks.
“Dad was at work. I heard someone knock on the back door. I thought it was a delivery, but when I opened it, he was standing there.””
“Did he identify himself?””
“He said his name was Daniel.””
“Did you recognize him from photographs?””
“No. He told me who he was.””
Harris glanced at the photograph.
“What did he say?””
Karen looked at me.
“He said our mother had stolen something from him. He said Emily had found it.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“I hadn't found the pouch yet,” I said.
Karen nodded.
“I know that now. But he said someone had seen you in the attic.””
“Who?””
“I don't know.””
Harris leaned forward.
“Did Daniel enter the house?””
“Yes.””
“Did he threaten you?””
Karen hesitated.
“He said he could ruin Dad. He said Dad had done things that would send him to prison. He told me that if I wanted to protect our family, I had to help him.””
“And you agreed?””
Karen lowered her head.
“I was scared.””
“So you planted the pills in Emily's room?””
Her shoulders began to shake.
“Yes.””
The word was barely audible.
I stared at her.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
“You actually did it,” I whispered.
Karen covered her face.
“I'm sorry.””
“You knew I hadn't done anything wrong.””
“I know.””
“You watched him throw me out.””
“I know.””
“You heard me ask him to search my room.””
“I know!””
Her sudden shout startled both of us.
Karen dropped her hands.
“I know what I did, Emily! Do you think I haven't been hearing your voice in my head all night?””
I stared at her.
She was crying, but this time I couldn't tell whether the tears were real or another attempt to change the story.
“Then why did you do it?”” I asked.
She looked at Detective Harris.
“Because Daniel told me he had proof Dad helped him steal money from people. He said if the police found the pouch, Dad would be arrested. He told me to make sure Emily couldn't explain where it came from.””
Harris's expression hardened.
“Did he tell you what was inside the pouch?””
“No.””
“Did he tell you where to find it?””
Karen nodded.
“He said it would be in Emily's old schoolbooks.””
I remembered the attic.
The stack of notebooks.
The dust on the floor.
Someone had known exactly where to look.
“Did you know our mother kept evidence there?”” I asked.
Karen shook her head.
“Not until Daniel told me.””
I looked at the photograph.
“Why did he want me?””
Karen's face crumpled.
“Because he thinks you know where the original ledger is.””
I shook my head.
“I don't know anything about a ledger.””
“He doesn't believe that.””
Harris wrote something down.
“Did Daniel tell you what he intended to do with Emily?””
Karen looked sick.
“He said he wanted to talk to her. He said she'd remember something from the night our mother died.””
I gripped the blanket.
“I was nine.””
“I know.””
“I barely remember that night.””
Karen looked at me.
“But you remember something.””
I didn't answer.
Because the truth was, there was one thing I had never told anyone.
Not Dad.
Not Karen.
Not Aunt Laura.
I had remembered it for six years, but every time I tried to explain it, the memory seemed to dissolve into fragments.
Rain against a window.
My mother's hand gripping my wrist.
A man's voice shouting from downstairs.
And a red car parked outside our house.
I had always assumed it was a dream.
Until Karen said Daniel wanted to know what I remembered.
Detective Harris noticed my expression.
“Emily, is there something you haven't told us?””
I stared at the photograph.
“I remember a car.””
“What kind of car?””
“Red. Maybe a sedan. I don't know.””
“Where was it?””
“Outside our house. The night Mom died.””
Harris put down her pen.
“Did you see who was driving?””
I shook my head.
“No. I was upstairs. I heard shouting, and Mom told me to stay in my bedroom.””
“Did you hear anyone mention Daniel?””
I closed my eyes.
I could almost hear the voices.
One belonged to my father.
The other was deeper, rougher.
Then I remembered a sentence.
You said the girl wouldn't remember.
I opened my eyes.
“I heard someone say I wouldn't remember.””
Harris exchanged a glance with the nurse standing outside the open doorway.
“Who said that?””
“I don't know.””
“Was it your father?””
“I think so.””
Karen began to cry harder.
I turned toward her.
“What?””
She shook her head.
“Nothing.””
“Karen, what do you know?””
“Nothing!””
Harris stood.
“Miss Walls, you need to understand that you're a witness in an investigation. If you continue withholding information, it may affect how investigators assess your involvement.””
Karen looked terrified.
Then she whispered, “I saw him leave.””
“Who?””
“Daniel.””
The room went silent.
Karen stared at the floor.
“The night Mom died, I woke up because I heard Dad arguing with someone. I went to the top of the stairs. I saw Daniel leaving through the back door.””
I felt a chill move through me.
“You told me you slept through the whole thing.””
“I know.””
“Why did you lie?””
“Because Dad told me to.””
Harris sat down again.
“What exactly did your father say?””
Karen swallowed.
“He said Daniel was a dangerous man and that if anyone asked about him, we had to say we'd never seen him. He said he was protecting us.””
“And you believed him?””
“I was eleven.””
I looked away.
She was right.
She had been a child.
But so had I.
And when Dad chose to believe her accusation, he had never once considered that she might have been frightened into lying.
“Did you see Daniel again after that night?”” Harris asked.
Karen hesitated.
Then she nodded.
“Three years ago.””
“Where?””
“At a shopping center. He approached me in the parking lot. He told me not to tell Dad.””
“What did he want?””
“He asked whether Emily still had Mom's necklace.””
I touched my throat instinctively.
I had never owned my mother's necklace.
At least, not that I remembered.
Harris noticed.
“Did you know what necklace he was talking about?””
Karen shook her head.
“No. I told him I didn't know. He said if I ever found it, I should give it to him.””
“What happened next?””
“He left.””
“Did you tell your father?””
“No.””
“Why not?””
“Because I was afraid he'd ask why I knew Daniel was alive.””
Harris closed her notebook.
“Thank you for telling me.””
Karen looked up.
“Am I going to prison?””
The question came out so softly that I almost felt sorry for her.
Harris didn't offer false reassurance.
“That depends on the evidence and the decisions made by the relevant authorities. You're seventeen, and we'll take your age and the circumstances into account. But you need to be completely honest from this point forward.””
Karen nodded, crying silently.
Then she turned toward me.
“Emily, I never wanted you to get hurt.””
I looked at her.
“You knew Dad might throw me out.””
“I didn't think he'd leave you outside all night.””
“You put the pills in my room.””
“I know.””
“You let him believe I was sick.””
“I know.””
I swallowed.
“Then stop telling me what you wanted. Tell me why you thought it was okay.””
Karen looked down.
For the first time, she didn't have an answer.
Detective Harris stepped into the corridor to make a call.
Through the glass panel in the door, I watched her speak to someone for nearly five minutes. Her expression grew increasingly serious.
When she returned, she was carrying a printed photograph.
“Emily, I need you to look at something.””
She placed it on the table.
It showed a red sedan parked outside a small house.
The house was ours.
My hands began to tremble.
“Where did you get this?””
“From the original investigation file. It was taken by a neighbor who reported seeing a vehicle outside your home on the night of your mother's death.””
I leaned closer.
The photograph was blurry, but the car was unmistakable.
A red sedan.
Harris pointed to the driver.
“Do you recognize this person?””
I stared at the image.
The man's face was partly obscured by the windshield, but I could see the shape of his jaw, the dark hair, and the scar near his left eyebrow.
It was the same man in Daniel's photograph.
My mouth went dry.
“That's him.””
“Are you certain?””
I nodded.
“He was outside our house.””
Harris sat down.
“Emily, the photograph was never included in the evidence submitted when the original case was closed. It was stored in a separate archive.””
“Why?””
“We don't know yet.””
I looked at Karen.
She was staring at the photograph as though she'd seen a ghost.
Then she whispered, “That's not Daniel.””
Harris turned toward her.
“What do you mean?””
Karen pointed at the image.
“Daniel had a scar on his left eyebrow. This man doesn't.””
I looked again.
She was right.
The photograph from the hospital showed a scar near the man's left eyebrow.
The man in the red car had no visible scar.
I felt my stomach twist.
“Then who is he?””
Karen's lips trembled.
“His brother.””
Harris went completely still.
“Daniel Mercer had a brother?””
Karen nodded.
“He told me about him when he came to the house. He said his brother was the one who drove the car that night.””
“What's his name?””
Karen looked toward the window.
Then she whispered, “Michael Mercer.””
Harris reached for her notebook.
“Is Michael alive?””
Karen shook her head.
“No. Daniel said he died years ago.””
Harris stared at the photograph.
The official report said Daniel had disappeared.
The recovered vehicle belonged to Daniel.
The man photographed outside my home looked like his brother.
And now my sister was claiming that both men had been involved in the events surrounding our mother's death.
One of them was supposedly dead.
The other was supposedly missing.
Yet one had visited our house three nights earlier.
Harris stood abruptly.
“Officer Daniels needs to know about this immediately.””
She stepped into the corridor and called him.
I turned toward Karen.
“Why didn't you tell anyone before?””
She stared at me through her tears.
“Because Daniel said if I ever told the truth, he'd show me what really happened to Mom.””
“What does that mean?””
Karen looked at the photograph.
Then she said the words that made my blood run cold.
“He told me our mother didn't die in the accident.””
May you like
She swallowed.
“He said she was alive when Dad left her at the bridge.””
