Chapter 6 - THE DEAD DO NOT CALL
Hannah watched the video eleven times.
On the twelfth, Daniel took the phone from her.
“Enough.”
She looked at him.
They were back at the Pawtucket apartment.
Julia had gone with Evan to review station footage.
Margaret remained in Boston.
Daniel stood in the kitchen while Hannah sat at the table beneath the dying basil plant.
“My mother died.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
He placed the phone facedown.
“I know you believed she died.”
“I did not believe it.”
Her voice sharpened.
“I watched her die.”
Daniel stayed quiet.
“I was sixteen. I sat beside her in hospice. She stopped breathing while I held her hand.”
“Hannah—”
“I chose the dress they cremated her in.”
Daniel’s face changed.
“Cremated.”
“Yes.”
“Did you identify—”
“Do not.”
He stopped.
She pressed both hands against her eyes.
“This is cruel.”
“Yes.”
“If someone altered footage—”
“We’ll know.”
“If that woman is a relative—”
“We’ll know.”
“If this is some kind of psychological trick—”
“We’ll know.”
She lowered her hands.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I need one sentence I can guarantee.”
“You cannot guarantee answers.”
“No.”
He sat across from her.
“Then I can guarantee I’ll keep looking until you decide to stop.”
The wording mattered.
Until you decide.
Hannah stared at him.
“Thank you.”
The words felt strange.
Daniel nodded.
Neither knew what to do with them.
Her mother had raised Hannah alone.
Rebecca Cole was an emergency-room nurse who worked nights, drank terrible coffee, and could remove splinters without children noticing.
She had no connection to organized crime.
No secret fortune.
No mysterious past Hannah knew.
She had been ordinary.
Beautifully ordinary.
Which now seemed suspicious only because Hannah’s life had stopped permitting ordinary explanations.
“Could Salvi have known her?” Daniel asked.
“No.”
“Where did she work?”
“St. Matthew’s in Boston.”
Daniel’s brows lifted.
“When?”
“Most of my childhood.”
“St. Matthew’s treated my father.”
Hannah stared.
“When?”
“Gunshot wound. I was fifteen.”
Her pulse shifted.
“Your father was treated there?”
“Yes.”
“My mother worked trauma.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Did she ever mention Antonio Mercer?”
“She never talked about patients.”
“Of course.”
Hannah stood and began pacing.
“Maybe she met your father.”
“Possible.”
“But why would that matter?”
“I don’t know.”
The baby kicked.
Hannah stopped.
Daniel watched.
“Can I ask something?”
“What?”
“Does he respond to voices?”
She almost laughed at the sudden change.
“Sometimes.”
“Yours?”
“Yes.”
“Music?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Apparently he hates jazz.”
Daniel looked offended.
“He’s definitely yours.”
Hannah stared.
Then laughed.
She hated herself for it.
No.
That was not true.
She did not hate it.
She was simply afraid of enjoying anything with Daniel because enjoyment could become nostalgia, and nostalgia could become surrender.
Daniel saw the change in her face.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You always say nothing when it’s something.”
“So do you.”
“Fair.”
He leaned back.
“Why did you leave without telling me you were pregnant?”
“We already discussed that.”
“No. You told me why you left. Not why you hid him.”
Hannah stopped pacing.
“They’re the same.”
“I don’t think they are.”
Anger rose.
“Of course you don’t.”
“Hannah.”
“I had been gone two days when I took the test.”
Daniel went still.
“What?”
She realized he had assumed she knew before leaving.
“No.”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
His face changed completely.
“I thought…”
“What?”
“That you found out and ran because of the baby.”
“I ran because of me.”
He looked down.
The distinction mattered.
More than either expected.
Hannah returned to the table.
“I was in a motel in Connecticut.”
Daniel listened.
“I woke up sick. Thought it was stress.”
Her fingers traced a scratch in the table.
“I bought two tests at a pharmacy because one felt too easy to mistrust.”
Daniel’s mouth tightened.
“Both positive.”
“Yes.”
“Did you think about calling?”
Hannah looked at him.
“For four hours.”
He absorbed that.
“What stopped you?”
“I pictured your answer.”
“What did you think I would say?”
She hesitated.
Then told the truth.
“You’re coming home.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“I knew it.”
“Yes.”
“You would have sent a car.”
“Yes.”
“You would have changed my doctor.”
“Probably.”
“You would have put guards everywhere.”
“Yes.”
“You would have called it protection.”
“Yes.”
“And if I said I wanted to stay away?”
He was quiet for a long time.
“I would have believed you were frightened and not thinking clearly.”
Hannah nodded.
“Exactly.”
Daniel looked ashamed.
“I would have taken choice away from you because I believed fear invalidated it.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
This time she let the apology sit.
Not accepted.
Not rejected.
Present.
Daniel asked, “Were you alone when you heard the heartbeat the first time?”
“Yes.”
His face tightened.
“Twelve weeks.”
“Yes.”
“Did you cry?”
“Yes.”
“Were you scared?”
“Yes.”
He looked away.
Hannah knew he was imagining every missed moment.
She almost told him not to.
But those were consequences.
Not punishment.
Consequences.
His phone rang.
Julia.
He answered on speaker.
“We verified the woman at South Station.”
Hannah held her breath.
Julia continued.
“Facial match is ninety-one percent against archived photos of Rebecca Cole.”
Hannah felt sick.
“That’s impossible.”
“There’s more.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Go.”
“Bell’s phone pinged near a motel outside Worcester an hour ago.”
“Bell is alive?”
“Probably.”
“And the woman?”
“Unknown.”
Hannah stood.
“I’m going.”
Daniel looked at her.
“You’re twenty-four weeks pregnant and someone is manufacturing footage of your dead mother.”
“She is not my dead mother if she is walking around Worcester.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Exactly.”
Daniel did not say no.
His face said it.
But he did not.
“What do you need to feel safe going?”
The question stopped her.
“Police.”
“Fine.”
“Not only your people.”
“Fine.”
“Julia comes.”
Daniel frowned.
“Why Julia?”
“Because if you lose your temper, she seems willing to tell you you’re an idiot.”
From the speaker, Julia said, “Gladly.”
Daniel looked offended.
Hannah smiled.
“Fine.”
The motel outside Worcester had twelve rooms and a vending machine that sounded terminally ill.
State police met them.
Bell’s room was empty.
No blood.
No struggle.
On the bed sat an old leather purse.
Hannah recognized it before she touched it.
Her mother’s.
She had not seen it in fourteen years.
Brown leather.
Small brass clasp.
Rebecca carried it to church, parent-teacher meetings, and Hannah’s high-school graduation.
After the funeral, Hannah thought her aunt had donated it.
She stood in the doorway unable to move.
Daniel stayed behind her.
“That’s hers.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Police photographed everything.
Inside the purse were three items.
A St. Matthew’s Hospital badge belonging to Rebecca Cole.
A photograph of sixteen-year-old Hannah.
And a cassette tape.
Actual cassette.
Daniel stared.
“Do you own anything that can play that?”
“No.”
A state trooper found a recorder in the motel office.
They played the tape in the room.
Static.
Then a woman’s voice.
Hannah gripped the edge of a chair.
Her mother.
Older recording.
No doubt.
“If Hannah ever hears this, then I failed to keep her away from the Mercers.”
Daniel went completely still.
Hannah felt the floor disappear.
Rebecca’s voice continued.
“I need you to understand that Daniel is not the danger I feared most.”
Hannah looked at him.
The tape crackled.
“The danger is what his father built and what Victor Salvi believes belongs to him.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
Rebecca continued.
“Antonio came into my trauma room bleeding when Hannah was two. I treated him. Years later he came back, not as a patient, but because he remembered I had seen something in his bloodwork no one else knew.”
Hannah frowned.
“What?”
The tape answered.
“Antonio Mercer could not father children.”
Silence swallowed the motel room.
Daniel did not move.
The tape hissed.
“If that result was accurate, Daniel and Julia were not Antonio’s biological children.”
Daniel’s face drained of color.
Hannah stared.
Rebecca continued.
“I kept the result confidential. I thought that ended it. Then Victor Salvi learned I knew.”
The tape clicked.
A long gap.
Then:
“He wanted proof because blood determined succession. Antonio wanted the secret buried because Daniel was his son in every way that mattered.”
Daniel sat slowly.
Hannah’s heart broke for him despite everything.
The tape continued.
“Salvi threatened Hannah. Antonio helped us disappear from Boston for six months. We returned only after Salvi vanished.”
Hannah whispered, “I don’t remember.”
“You were two,” Daniel said.
Rebecca’s voice continued.
“If Salvi is back, he will look for the bloodline again.”
The tape stopped.
Everyone remained silent.
Daniel stared at nothing.
Hannah looked at Julia.
She was pale.
“Your father wasn’t your biological father.”
Julia shook her head.
“Maybe the test was wrong.”
Daniel said nothing.
Hannah suddenly understood the 48-hour threat differently.
The boy belongs to the family.
“What if the trust depends on biological blood?”
Daniel looked up.
Julia’s eyes widened.
“If Daniel isn’t Antonio’s biological son…”
“The baby cannot be Antonio’s blood heir,” Hannah finished.
“So the trust claim collapses,” Daniel said.
Hannah’s pulse quickened.
“Then why target him?”
A voice came from the motel doorway.
“Because the child can prove Daniel is not a Mercer.”
Everyone turned.
Carson Bell stood there.
Bruised.
Wet.
Alive.
And behind him stood the woman from the station.
Hannah forgot how to breathe.
The woman looked older than Rebecca had at death.
Same eyes.
Same mouth.
She looked at Hannah and began to cry.
“Hannie.”
Only one person had ever called her that.
Hannah took one step backward.
“No.”
The woman’s face crumpled.
“I know.”
“No.”
“Hannah.”
“My mother died.”
The woman nodded.
“Yes.”
Hannah stared.
The impossible answer came before the question.
May you like
The woman whispered, “Rebecca was my twin sister.”
And suddenly the face made sense.
