Chapter 2: The Man in the Photograph
Nobody spoke.
Detective Harris placed the photograph on the coffee table.
Marcus picked it up with trembling fingers.
The picture showed Vanessa wearing a red dress, walking through the entrance of the Grand Meridian Hotel.
Beside her was a man in a gray jacket.
The photograph was grainy, but the man's face was unmistakable.
Marcus.
His own face.
His own watch.
Even the small scar above his right eyebrow.
Marcus looked up.
“Detective, where did you get this?””
“It was submitted anonymously this morning.””
“By whom?””
“We're still establishing that.””
Marcus looked at Vanessa.
“Why are you in a hotel with me?””
Vanessa's lips parted.
“Baby, I can explain.””
“Explain what?””
She reached for his hand.
He stepped away.
“Don't touch me.””
Robert watched his son carefully.
There was something strange about the photograph.
Not because Marcus was in it.
Because Robert remembered that weekend.
Three weeks earlier, Marcus had told him he was traveling to Chicago for a construction project.
He had even called Robert from what sounded like a hotel room.
Robert had spoken to him for nearly fifteen minutes.
He remembered asking about the weather.
He remembered Marcus complaining about the food.
But now he was beginning to wonder whether that phone call had been real.
Detective Harris pulled out another photograph.
“This one was taken on the same evening.””
It showed Vanessa and the man entering an elevator.
Marcus's hand was resting on her lower back.
Robert looked at his son.
“Marcus, you told me you were in Chicago.””
Marcus swallowed.
“I was.””
“Then how can you explain this?””
Marcus stared at the image.
“I don't know.””
Vanessa suddenly stepped forward.
“Detective, these pictures prove nothing. Someone could have edited them.””
Detective Harris remained calm.
“That's possible. That's why we're investigating rather than drawing conclusions.””
“Then why are you showing them to my husband?””
“Because his name appears in the report.””
Vanessa's face went pale.
“What report?””
The detective opened his folder.
“A complaint alleging that Mr. Williams has been involved in a financial arrangement connected to this property.””
Marcus looked confused.
“What financial arrangement?””
Detective Harris turned toward Robert.
“Mr. Williams, do you own this house?””
“Yes.””
“Is the property mortgaged?””
“No. I paid it off six years ago.””
“Has anyone recently attempted to transfer ownership?””
Robert shook his head.
“Absolutely not.””
Detective Harris took out another sheet.
“Then perhaps you should explain this.””
Robert took the document.
It was a property authorization form.
His full name appeared at the top.
His home address was correct.
His date of birth was correct.
And at the bottom was a signature that looked remarkably similar to his own.
But Robert had never signed it.
“What is this?”” he whispered.
Marcus leaned over his shoulder.
“Dad, is that your signature?””
“No.””
“Are you sure?””
Robert looked at him sharply.
“Of course I'm sure!””
Detective Harris pointed to the date.
“This authorization was submitted twelve days ago. It would have allowed a representative to begin processing a property transfer.””
Robert felt cold all over.
“Who submitted it?””
The detective looked at his notes.
“An individual using the name Vanessa Williams.””
Marcus slowly turned toward his wife.
“Vanessa?””
She shook her head.
“This is ridiculous.””
“Did you submit this document?”” Marcus demanded.
“No!””
“Your name is on it.””
“Someone used my information!””
Robert looked down at the signature.
Then he noticed something.
A small black mark near the bottom of the page.
He leaned closer.
“Detective, where did you get this?””
“From the county records office.””
Robert pointed to the mark.
“This isn't an original document. It's a photocopy.””
The detective nodded.
“Correct.””
“Then I want the original.””
“That's part of the investigation.””
Robert handed the document back.
“I know that signature. It isn't mine. Whoever did this copied my signature from somewhere.””
Marcus looked confused.
“Where would someone get a copy of your signature?””
Robert slowly turned toward him.
“My bank.””
The room went quiet.
For years, Robert had kept a small fireproof safe in his study.
It contained property records, insurance policies, bank documents, and copies of his will.
Only three people knew the combination.
Robert.
Evelyn.
And Marcus.
He looked toward the staircase.
“Where is your mother?””
Marcus frowned.
“She went to the grocery store earlier.””
“No. She came upstairs when Vanessa started screaming.””
“She went back downstairs afterward.””
Robert looked toward the kitchen.
The back door was slightly open.
A cold breeze moved the curtains.
“Detective,” Robert said quietly, “I think you need to speak with my wife.””
Vanessa suddenly laughed.
It was a short, nervous sound.
“Your wife? You mean the woman who slapped you?””
Robert ignored her.
Detective Harris took out his phone.
“Do you have a number for Mrs. Williams?””
Marcus gave him the number.
The detective called.
It rang several times.
No answer.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Marcus began pacing.
“Something isn't right.””
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Can we please stop treating me like the criminal here?””
Marcus turned toward her.
“Then tell me why you have a video where you ask someone to make something sound real.””
“I already explained that.””
“No, you didn't.””
“Marcus, I'm exhausted.””
“Then answer one question.””
She stared at him.
“Did you fake the assault?””
Her expression hardened.
“How dare you?””
“Did you?””
Vanessa stepped closer.
“You know what? Maybe I should have known this would happen. Your father has always hated me.””
Robert shook his head.
“I welcomed you into this family.””
“You never respected me!””
“I paid for your wedding!””
“You think money buys respect?””
“No. But I thought kindness might.””
Marcus rubbed his face.
“Both of you, stop.””
Vanessa grabbed her handbag.
“I'm leaving.””
Detective Harris stepped toward the door.
“Mrs. Williams, I'd prefer that you remain available while we clarify the report.””
She looked at him.
“Are you detaining me?””
“No. I'm asking you not to leave without providing contact information.””
She threw her handbag onto the sofa.
“Fine.””
Marcus walked toward the staircase.
“Dad, show me the safe.””
Robert looked at him.
“Why?””
“Because if someone accessed your documents, we need to know what else is missing.””
They climbed the stairs together.
For the first time that day, Marcus walked beside his father rather than in front of him.
Robert opened the study.
The room smelled of old books and furniture polish.
He approached the large wooden desk, moved aside a framed photograph of Evelyn and him on their wedding day, and knelt beside the cabinet.
The safe was behind a false panel.
Robert entered the combination.
The door opened.
His first reaction was confusion.
His second was fear.
The safe was empty.
Not completely empty.
The cash was still there.
The old family photographs were still there.
But the property deed, the bank authorization papers, and the envelope containing his original will were gone.
Marcus stared into the safe.
“Dad…”
Robert reached inside and touched the bare metal shelf.
“Someone took them.””
“Who has the combination?””
Robert didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Marcus looked toward the door.
“Mom.””
Robert stood up slowly.
“Don't accuse your mother without evidence.””
Marcus looked at him.
“Then who else?””
Robert walked to the desk.
There was a small photograph of Evelyn beside the telephone.
He picked it up.
Something was tucked behind the frame.
A folded piece of paper.
He pulled it out.
It was a handwritten note.
The writing was unmistakably Evelyn's.
*Robert, I know what Vanessa is planning. Don't let Marcus sign anything. Please trust me.*
Robert read it twice.
Marcus took the note.
“Dad, when did Mom write this?””
“I don't know.””
“Why didn't she tell us?””
Robert looked at the date.
It was written four days earlier.
He felt his chest tighten.
Four days.
His wife had known something was happening for four days, and she had said nothing.
Marcus pulled out his phone.
“I'm calling her.””
Before he could press the number, a message arrived.
It was from Evelyn.
*Marcus, don't come looking for me. I'm safe. Your father needs to know what happened on the night of October 14.*
Marcus stared at the screen.
“What happened on October 14?””
Robert's face changed.
October 14.
That was the date his first wife, Helen, had died.
The woman he had loved before Evelyn.
The woman whose death had left a wound he had spent decades trying to hide.
He took the phone from Marcus.
“Son,” he whispered, “your mother is talking about something that happened twenty years ago.””
Marcus looked at him.
“What does Helen have to do with this?””
Robert opened his mouth.
But before he could answer, the study telephone rang.
One time.
Two times.
Three.
Robert picked it up.
A woman's voice whispered through the receiver.
“Robert, it's Evelyn.””
“Where are you?””
“Listen carefully. Vanessa isn't doing this alone.””
Robert gripped the telephone.
“Who is helping her?””
There was a pause.
Then Evelyn said something that made his blood run cold.
“Marcus.””
Robert looked at his son.
Marcus was standing less than three feet away.
Listening.
And smiling.
Not nervously.
May you like
Not apologetically.
Smiling.
