Chapter 5: The Second Name
We left Tasha's house without another word.
Malcolm drove.
I sat beside him.
Neither of us spoke for almost ten minutes.
Finally, I said, “You knew Rachel was afraid.””
“I knew she was afraid that night.””
“You never told me.””
“I couldn't.””
“You couldn't?””
“I thought she'd been under stress.””
“She called you screaming.””
“I know.””
“And then you found her dead.””
“I know.””
“Why didn't you tell the police about the call?””
“I did.””
I turned toward him.
“What did they say?””
“They said the call was too short to identify anyone.””
“And the phrase ‘he's here’?””
“I told them.””
“And?””
“They thought she meant me.””
I frowned.
“Why?””
“Because she'd been arguing with me.””
“About what?””
“Custody.””
The word hung between us.
I looked at the road ahead.
“Rachel wanted custody of Isaiah.””
“Yes.””
“You said she threatened to take him away.””
“She wanted to move.””
“Where?””
“California.””
“Why?””
“She said someone was watching her.””
“Who?””
“I don't know.””
“You keep saying that.””
“Because I don't know.””
He gripped the steering wheel.
“I spent years believing Rachel was unstable.””
“And now?””
“Now I think she was trying to warn me.””
We reached my house.
Isaiah was sitting at the kitchen table, drawing.
When he saw us, he smiled.
“Dad, look.””
He held up a picture.
Three people stood beneath a blue sky.
A little boy.
A woman.
A man.
“That's me,” Isaiah said.
“And that's your mom,” I said.
He nodded.
“And that's Dad.””
Malcolm swallowed.
“That's right.””
Isaiah pointed to the woman's hand.
“I gave her a flower.””
“It's beautiful,” Malcolm said.
Isaiah smiled.
Then he looked at the envelope.
“What's that?””
Malcolm and I exchanged a glance.
“Something your mom left you,” Malcolm said.
“Can I open it?””
“Not yet.””
“Why?””
“Because your mom wanted you to open it when you were ten.””
Isaiah frowned.
“But I'm almost ten.””
“I know.””
“Can I see it?””
Malcolm handed it to him.
Isaiah ran his fingers over the handwriting.
His expression changed.
“That's Mom's.””
“Yes.””
“I remember.””
Malcolm froze.
“You remember her handwriting?””
Isaiah nodded.
“She used to write my name on my lunch bag.””
Malcolm looked away.
I saw him wipe his eyes.
Isaiah gave the envelope back.
“I'll wait.””
After he went upstairs, I turned to Malcolm.
“We need to find out what happened to Rachel.””
“I agree.””
“And the custody agreement.””
“And the missing money.””
“And Locker 17.””
Malcolm looked at me.
“I almost forgot about that.””
I took the little key from my purse.
“Where would Rachel have kept a locker?””
He stared at it.
“Maybe the old train station.””
“Why?””
“She used to rent a storage locker there.””
“Did she?””
“I think so.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I didn't know the number.””
I held up the key.
“Locker 17.””
We drove there that evening.
The old station had been renovated years earlier, but the storage section remained.
A security guard checked the key.
“Locker seventeen is still registered?””
He looked at his computer.
“Name?””
“Rachel Bennett.””
He typed.
Then frowned.
“That's odd.””
“What?””
“The locker was transferred.””
“To whom?””
He looked at the screen.
“Tasha Reed.””
Malcolm's jaw tightened.
“When?””
“Three days after Rachel died.””
I looked at him.
“That can't be a coincidence.””
The guard led us down a narrow corridor.
Locker 17 was at the very end.
Malcolm inserted the key.
It turned.
The metal door opened with a loud scrape.
Inside was one cardboard box.
Nothing else.
Malcolm lifted it out.
The box was sealed with brown tape.
Written across the top was:
*FOR ISAIAH — DO NOT GIVE TO MALCOLM.*
My son stared at the words.
“Why wouldn't she want me to have it?””
“I don't know.””
He opened the box.
Inside were photographs.
A small digital recorder.
Several bank statements.
A birth certificate.
And a sealed legal document.
Malcolm picked it up.
His hands trembled.
The document had Isaiah's name on it.
He unfolded it.
Then went completely silent.
“What?”” I asked.
He handed it to me.
It was a custody agreement.
But it wasn't between Malcolm and Tasha.
It was between Rachel and someone else.
Someone whose name I had never seen before.
At the bottom of the page was Rachel's signature.
And beneath it, another signature.
A man's.
I read the name.
My blood ran cold.
Because the man Rachel had apparently trusted with Isaiah was not a stranger.
He was someone Malcolm and I both knew.
Someone who had been at Rachel's funeral.
Someone who had hugged Malcolm afterward and told him he was sorry for his loss.
I looked at my son.
“Malcolm…”
He stared at the signature.
“No.””
“Do you know this name?””
“Yes.””
“Who is he?””
Malcolm's voice came out barely above a whisper.
“My father.””
I looked at him in disbelief.
His father had been dead for eleven years.
I looked again at the document.
The signature was dated *two months after his death*.
Malcolm stepped backward.
“That’s impossible.””
I turned the page.
There was another line beneath the signature.
*Emergency guardianship to become effective upon Rachel's death.*
My hands began to shake.
Rachel had planned for someone to take Isaiah if she died.
Someone who was supposed to be Malcolm's dead father.
Someone who couldn't possibly have signed the document.
Then the recorder inside the box suddenly clicked.
A red light appeared.
And Rachel's voice filled the tiny storage room.
“If you're hearing this, it means I was right.””
Malcolm stopped breathing.
Rachel continued.
“And Malcolm, if you're the one listening…”
There was a long pause.
May you like
Then her voice broke.
“…you need to know who your father really was.””
