Chapter 10 - Thomas Vance
Richard laughed.
It was not amusement.
It was disbelief.
“Thomas warned you about me?”
Hannah nodded.
“He said you were the reason everything kept happening.”
Richard looked toward Arthur.
“I was a coward. I was selfish. I was cruel.”
His voice rose.
“But I did not kidnap that baby.”
“No,” Hannah said.
“You did something before she was born.”
Richard’s expression changed.
Arthur stood.
“What?”
Hannah looked exhausted.
“I don’t know the full story.”
“You met Thomas.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Maybe seven minutes.”
“What did he say?”
Hannah rubbed her eyes.
“He said Rebecca wasn’t the real danger.”
“Then who was?”
“He wouldn’t give me a name.”
Richard scoffed.
“Convenient.”
Hannah looked at him.
“He said the person behind everything had been protecting the Sterling family secret for fifty years.”
Richard’s face lost color.
“What secret?”
“He said you knew.”
Richard stared.
“I don’t.”
Arthur’s patience snapped.
“Stop.”
Both turned.
“If either of you knows anything that puts Sophie in danger, you say it now.”
Richard shook his head.
“I know nothing beyond what I’ve told you.”
Hannah stared at him.
“Thomas said you would say that.”
Arthur looked at Cole.
“Can we find him?”
“We’re running facial recognition.”
“He’s in his seventies.”
“If he’s been using another identity for decades, it’ll take time.”
Arthur stared at the paused video of the man who might be his biological father.
“He was alive the entire time.”
Hannah touched his arm.
“I’m sorry.”
Arthur looked at her.
“You met him before I did.”
“I didn’t know if he was telling the truth.”
“Why didn’t you mention him before?”
“Because Rebecca had my baby.”
Fair answer.
Arthur sat.
“What was in the envelope?”
“A safe deposit receipt.”
“Where?”
“First National Bank downtown.”
Richard immediately recognized something.
“My father banked there.”
Hannah nodded.
“Thomas said the box was opened under the name Emily Vale.”
Arthur frowned.
“Emily used his name?”
“Apparently.”
“Do you have the receipt?”
“No.”
“Where is it?”
Hannah glanced at Detective Cole.
“I hid it.”
Cole’s jaw tightened.
“Where?”
“I’m not telling you in a room with Richard.”
Richard stood.
“If Thomas is alive—”
“You leave,” Hannah said.
“Hannah.”
“Leave.”
Arthur looked at Richard.
“You heard her.”
Richard’s face tightened.
Then he nodded and walked out.
Cole closed the door.
Hannah waited several seconds.
“The receipt is inside Sophie’s diaper bag.”
I blinked.
“The one from delivery?”
“Yes.”
“That bag is in hospital property storage.”
“Good.”
Cole arranged for an officer to retrieve it.
Inside a side pocket, beneath an unopened packet of wipes, we found a folded bank receipt.
Deposit box 441.
Authorized user: Emily Vale.
Secondary access: Hannah Vance.
Arthur read it twice.
“This means Emily planned for you to find it.”
Hannah nodded.
“Thomas said Mom changed the authorization before she died.”
Arthur whispered, “She knew she was in danger.”
“Probably.”
Cole examined the date.
“Box opened six weeks ago.”
Arthur looked up.
“By who?”
Hannah raised her hand.
“I opened it.”
“What was inside?”
“A cassette tape.”
Richard’s family secret apparently believed in obsolete technology.
“What was on it?”
“I didn’t listen.”
Arthur stared.
“Why?”
“Because Thomas was waiting outside the bank.”
Everyone went quiet.
“You had already met him?”
“No. That was the first time I saw him.”
“What happened?”
“He told me not to play the tape anywhere connected to the internet.”
Arthur frowned.
“It’s a cassette.”
“I know.”
“He meant recording it?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“He said people had been searching for it since 1992.”
Arthur looked confused.
“Emily would’ve been a teenager.”
Hannah nodded.
“She didn’t make the recording.”
“Who did?”
“Thomas.”
Arthur’s eyes widened.
“Where is the cassette?”
Hannah looked at him.
“In a place nobody would search.”
Arthur waited.
“My car.”
Cole closed his eyes.
“Hannah.”
“It’s an old Honda.”
“That does not make it invisible.”
“It’s parked at a bus station under three inches of snow.”
Cole dispatched officers.
Two hours later, the cassette arrived.
We did not play it in the NICU.
Cole arranged a secure conference room.
Arthur, Hannah, Richard, Cole, and I sat around a table while an evidence technician loaded the tape into an old player obtained from hospital administration.
Static filled the room.
Then a man’s voice.
Young.
Nervous.
Thomas.
“If this recording is being heard, then William refused to fix what we did.”
Another voice answered.
Senator William Sterling.
Richard’s father.
“You knew the risks.”
Thomas responded.
“I knew we moved weapons.”
Arthur looked up.
Weapons.
The tape continued.
William said, “We moved equipment.”
“Explosives and rifles aren’t farm equipment.”
Richard closed his eyes.
Thomas continued.
“People died because of those shipments.”
William lowered his voice.
“You were paid.”
“I kept records.”
Silence on tape.
Then William said,
“You have a son now.”
Arthur stopped breathing.
Thomas replied,
“Leave him out of this.”
“You should have thought about him sooner.”
Arthur’s hands began trembling violently.
The recording was older than Arthur.
His existence had been used as leverage before he could form memories.
The conversation continued.
Names.
Dates.
Companies.
Payments.
Then a third voice entered the recording.
A woman.
Richard suddenly stood.
“No.”
Hannah looked at him.
“Who?”
Richard stared at the tape player.
“My mother.”
The woman said,
“William, stop threatening him.”
Arthur looked toward Richard.
The tape continued.
William Sterling replied,
“You shouldn’t be here, Margaret.”
Margaret said,
“Thomas deserves the truth.”
Thomas asked,
“What truth?”
Silence.
Then Margaret Sterling spoke.
“The boy isn’t only yours.”
Arthur frowned.
Nobody understood.
William shouted.
The audio distorted.
Then Margaret said clearly:
“Arthur is my grandson too.”
Arthur stared at Richard.
Richard looked as shocked as anyone.
Arthur whispered, “What?”
The tape played on.
Thomas shouted, “That’s impossible.”
Margaret cried,
“Your mother is my daughter.”
Arthur could not move.
Richard slowly sat down.
“My sister.”
Arthur turned.
“You had a sister?”
Richard’s face was white.
“She died when I was twelve.”
“What was her name?”
“Evelyn.”
Arthur’s mind raced.
His mother had been named Evelyn.
Arthur whispered, “Evelyn Vance.”
Richard looked at him.
“Evelyn Sterling.”
The room became silent.
Arthur stared at Richard.
The family tree rearranged itself in real time.
Thomas Vale was his biological father.
Evelyn Sterling was apparently his biological mother.
Meaning Richard was not merely the father of Emily.
Richard was Arthur’s uncle.
Arthur and Emily had—
“No.”
Arthur stood so fast the chair fell.
“No.”
Hannah stared.
Richard looked sick.
“Arthur.”
“No.”
He backed away.
“That would make Emily my—”
Richard shook his head.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Emily was adopted.”
Everyone froze.
Arthur stared.
Richard continued.
“My wife and I couldn’t have children.”
Arthur’s breathing slowed slightly.
“Emily was not biologically Sterling.”
Hannah closed her eyes.
Arthur placed a hand against the wall.
“Jesus.”
Richard nodded.
“Yes.”
The tape continued unnoticed for several seconds.
Then Cole raised a hand.
“Listen.”
Thomas’s voice again.
“I’ll take Arthur and disappear.”
William replied,
“You won’t make it to morning.”
Thomas said,
“If you touch my son—”
The tape cut.
A second recording began.
Different year.
Thomas sounded older.
“Emily found me.”
Arthur turned.
The room froze.
Thomas continued.
“She knows Arthur is my son.”
A pause.
“She says she loves him anyway.”
Arthur’s eyes filled.
Then Thomas said:
“She also found the ledger.”
Richard whispered, “What ledger?”
On tape, Thomas answered the question.
“The one proving William Sterling wasn’t working alone.”
A long pause.
Then the name came.
Thomas said:
“Gerald Sloan is dangerous, but he answers to Senator Sterling.”
Static.
“And Senator Sterling answers to Dr. Malcolm Pierce.”
I felt my stomach twist.
That name was familiar.
Very familiar.
Arthur noticed my expression.
“Claire?”
I stared at him.
Dr. Malcolm Pierce had founded St. Jude Medical Center.
The hospital where Sophie lay sleeping.
And his son, Dr. Jonathan Pierce, was our current chief medical officer.
Before I could explain, the conference-room door opened.
Dr. Jonathan Pierce stood outside.
He looked at the cassette player.
Then at us.
May you like
His expression was unreadable.
“What exactly,” he asked softly, “are you people listening to?”
