Chapter 8 - The Voice Inside the Violin Case
The violin had not been played in seventeen years.
Christian found it in the estate music room.
Top shelf.
Black case.
Dust along the brass latch.
His father had given it to him when he was nine.
Christian hated lessons.
Loved the instrument.
He opened the case.
The violin was still there.
So was the old blue cloth.
Samuel touched the lining.
“Here.”
A seam had been resewn by hand.
Christian cut it open.
A cassette slid out.
White label.
AIRPORT — RICHARD.
Nobody spoke.
Charles had finally come inside.
He stood near the doorway.
Christian looked at him.
“You knew my mother hid it here?”
“No.”
Christian inserted the tape.
Pressed PLAY.
Static.
Wind.
Then Richard’s voice.
“Charles was supposed to sign.”
Leonard answered:
“He refused.”
Richard:
“Then the board votes after he disappears.”
A door slammed.
Anthony Voss spoke next.
“You said nobody would get hurt.”
Richard laughed.
“Anthony, people like us always say that before someone gets hurt.”
Victor closed his eyes.
The recording continued.
Anthony:
“I’m taking the contracts.”
Richard:
“No.”
Movement.
Then Charles’s voice.
“Richard.”
Silence.
Richard:
“You came early.”
Charles:
“Where is the investigator?”
Richard:
“There isn’t one.”
Then Elena.
Christian’s mother.
“Charles, get out.”
Christian gripped the table.
He had not heard her voice in five years.
Not like this.
Alive.
Afraid.
Richard said:
“Elena, you should not be here.”
She answered:
“Neither should my husband.”
Then another voice.
Anthony.
“I copied everything.”
Richard:
“Give me the case.”
Anthony:
“No.”
A struggle.
A metallic crash.
Then Richard’s voice.
Cold.
“If Charles won’t disappear willingly, make the plane story convincing.”
Christian looked at Samuel.
Samuel whispered:
“This is it.”
On the tape, Leonard said:
“Richard, stop.”
Richard:
“You already signed the papers.”
Then Elena screamed:
“Run.”
The tape cut.
Christian stared at the machine.
Charles’s eyes were wet.
“That was the last time I heard her voice before I left.”
Christian looked at him.
“You met her later.”
“Twice.”
“Why not more?”
“She refused.”
Christian frowned.
Charles looked at the floor.
“The second time, she told me if I was not brave enough to come home, I had no right to keep asking her to live between two lives.”
Christian said nothing.
“She was right.”
Charles continued.
“She told me she would protect you, but she would not help me pretend cowardice was sacrifice.”
Christian looked at the tape.
For the first time, his anger at his mother changed.
Not gone.
Changed.
Victor asked:
“What happened to Anthony?”
Samuel answered quietly.
“I saw Richard take him away.”
Charles looked at him.
“Did Elena?”
“Yes.”
Christian turned.
“Then why did nobody report it?”
Leonard’s voice came from the doorway.
Everyone turned.
The old lawyer stood with a cane.
A nurse behind him.
He had insisted on coming.
Leonard looked at Christian.
“Because Anthony came back.”
Victor froze.
“What?”
Leonard entered slowly.
“Three days later.”
Amelia stared.
“My uncle survived?”
“Yes.”
Victor stepped closer.
“Where did he go?”
Leonard’s face changed.
“Witness protection.”
Christian frowned.
“Police?”
“Federal investigators.”
Leonard nodded.
“Anthony made a deal.”
Charles stared.
“You knew he was alive?”
“Yes.”
“For fifteen years?”
“Yes.”
Victor looked ready to collapse.
“Why didn’t he contact me?”
Leonard answered:
“Because Richard still had people around you.”
Amelia whispered:
“Is he alive now?”
Leonard looked at her.
“Yes.”
Everyone stopped.
Christian asked:
“Where?”
Leonard handed him a folded card.
One address.
No name.
Christian looked at it.
“Who lives there?”
Leonard answered:
“A man your family has been calling dead for fifteen years.”
Charles stared.
“You mean Anthony.”
Leonard nodded.
Then looked at Christian.
“And he has something Richard never found.”
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