Chapter 3: The Man in the Photograph
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
I enlarged the photograph with trembling fingers.
Rachel was wearing the blue coat I had bought her for our anniversary.
Michael stood beside her, one hand resting on her waist.
They were smiling.
But the reflection in the glass was what made my blood run cold.
An older man stood behind them.
Gray hair.
Dark jacket.
A familiar posture.
My father.
Except my father had been dead for three years.
I stared until my eyes hurt.
Then I noticed something.
The photograph had been taken recently, but the man in the reflection wasn't wearing the clothes my father had been buried in.
He was wearing a black baseball cap and holding a newspaper.
I zoomed in again.
The resemblance was extraordinary.
But it wasn't my father.
It was someone else.
Someone who looked almost exactly like him.
I called the unknown number.
No answer.
I sent a message.
*Who are you?*
The reply came almost immediately.
*Someone who knows your father didn't leave you what you think he left you.*
I stared at those words.
Then the phone rang.
Rachel.
I answered.
"Hey, sweetheart," she said brightly.
"Are you coming home for dinner?""
I looked at the photograph.
"Yes.""
"Wonderful. Your mother has been asking for you.""
I nearly dropped the phone.
"Really?""
"She's having a better day.""
I swallowed.
"That's good.""
"And Daniel?""
"Yes?""
"Don't work too late. We need to discuss something important tonight.""
"What?""
A short silence.
"Something about your father's estate.""
My blood ran cold.
"Why?""
Rachel laughed softly.
"Because it's time we settled some unfinished family business.""
She hung up.
I drove home slowly.
When I arrived, Rachel was in the dining room arranging plates.
Mom was sitting on the sofa, staring at the television without watching it.
"You're home!"" Rachel said.
She approached me and kissed my cheek.
"Wash your hands. Dinner's almost ready.""
I looked at the table.
Three plates.
Three glasses.
A fourth place setting had been placed at the far end.
"Are we expecting someone?""
Rachel smiled.
"Michael is coming.""
I nodded.
"Of course he is.""
She didn't notice the way my expression changed.
Dinner began at seven.
Michael arrived ten minutes late, carrying a bottle of wine.
"Big brother!"" he called, clapping my shoulder.
I barely moved.
"Michael.""
He looked at me.
"What's with the funeral face?""
"Long day.""
He laughed and sat down.
Rachel served dinner.
For twenty minutes, they behaved as though nothing had happened.
Michael talked about work.
Rachel complained about grocery prices.
They even joked about a television show Mom liked.
I watched them carefully.
Every time Michael reached for something, Rachel seemed to anticipate him.
Every time Rachel spoke, Michael looked at her.
It wasn't the behavior of two people who barely saw each other.
It was the behavior of people who knew each other intimately.
Finally, I placed my fork down.
"Michael, how's the hotel business?""
He looked confused.
"What hotel business?""
I leaned back.
"The one you and Rachel seem to know so much about.""
Silence.
Rachel's wineglass stopped halfway to her lips.
Michael looked at her.
Then at me.
"What are you talking about?""
I took my phone from my pocket.
I placed the photograph on the table.
Neither of them touched it.
Rachel recovered first.
"Daniel, where did you get that?""
"Does it matter?""
"Yes, actually. That's private.""
I laughed once.
"Private?""
Michael pushed his chair back.
"Look, man, I don't know what you've been told, but—"
"Then explain the picture.""
He looked at Rachel again.
That was enough.
I turned toward my wife.
"Mom saw you coming out of the guest bedroom with him.""
Rachel's face changed.
For the first time, she didn't have an immediate answer.
Then she placed her napkin beside her plate.
"Your mother is confused.""
Mom stood up.
"No, I'm not.""
Rachel turned sharply.
"Margaret, please sit down.""
"I saw you.""
"You're mistaken.""
"I saw Michael's shirt. I saw you carrying your shoes.""
Michael rubbed his forehead.
"Mom, this is ridiculous.""
Mom's voice grew stronger.
"Then why did you tell me not to say anything?""
Michael stood.
"I never said that.""
Rachel reached for her glass.
"Daniel, this is exactly why I've been concerned about her mental state.""
I looked at her.
"You've been telling everyone she's losing her memory.""
"Because she is!""
"Then why are you so afraid of what she remembers?""
Rachel slammed her palm against the table.
"Because she's destroying this family!""
The room went silent.
Mom began crying.
Michael stared at his plate.
And I finally understood something.
They weren't afraid of being caught in an affair.
They were afraid of something my mother had seen.
I stood.
"Everyone out.""
Rachel stared at me.
"This is my house too.""
"Then you can stay. Michael can leave.""
Michael grabbed his jacket.
"You're making a huge mistake.""
I stepped closer.
"Maybe. But I'm done letting you tell me what to believe.""
He walked toward the front door.
Before leaving, he turned back.
"Ask your wife what happened to Dad's last will.""
Then he left.
I turned toward Rachel.
Her face had gone completely white.
"What did he mean?""
She shook her head.
"He's trying to hurt you.""
"Rachel.""
"Your brother is unstable. You know that.""
"WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FATHER'S WILL?""
She flinched.
Then, unexpectedly, she started crying.
"I was trying to protect you.""
I stared at her.
"From what?""
She wiped her cheeks.
"Your father made a terrible decision before he died. He changed everything. He wanted to leave the house to someone else.""
"Who?""
Rachel looked at Mom.
Then back at me.
"I can't tell you.""
"Why not?""
"Because your mother already knows.""
I turned toward Mom.
She looked terrified.
"Mom?""
She slowly reached into her cardigan pocket.
Then she placed a small silver key on the table.
"I found this inside your father's old desk," she whispered.
Rachel took a step forward.
"Margaret, don't.""
Mom closed her fingers around the key.
"Your father told me that if Rachel ever tried to take the house, I should give this to you.""
I stared at the key.
"What does it open?""
Mom looked directly into my eyes.
"The safe deposit box at the bank.""
Rachel began shaking her head.
"Daniel, you don't understand.""
I picked up the key.
"Then help me understand.""
She backed away.
"Your father didn't die believing what you think he believed.""
I froze.
"What does that mean?""
Rachel looked toward the staircase.
Then she whispered the words that changed everything.
"Your father was alive when Michael and I signed the first agreement.""
I stared at her.
"That's impossible. Dad died three years ago.""
Rachel shook her head.
"Not according to the man who signed those papers.""
Before I could respond, my phone rang.
Mr. Bennett's name appeared on the screen.
I answered immediately.
"Daniel, I just reviewed the original documents.""
"Tell me.""
His voice was grave.
"The signature on the power of attorney is not the only forgery.""
I gripped the edge of the table.
"What else?""
A long pause.
Then he said:
"Your father's death certificate was issued under a different legal name.""
I looked at Rachel.
She was crying now, but there was no sadness in her eyes.
Only fear.
Mr. Bennett continued.
"Daniel, I think you need to come to my office first thing tomorrow. There's something in your father's safe deposit records that I don't think your wife knows you've discovered.""
I glanced at the silver key in my hand.
"What is it?""
His answer was barely audible.
"Your father left a letter. And according to the date, he wrote it six months after the funeral.""
I looked at my mother.
She was staring at Rachel.
Rachel was staring at the key.
And suddenly, I realized the affair might be the smallest secret in our family.
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Because if my father had written that letter six months after his funeral...
*Who had we buried?*
