Chapter 8 - Mark Bell
Ryan called Mark Bell on speaker.
A tired voice answered.
"Ryan?"
"Why is your name on a custody petition for my son?"
Silence.
Then, "Where are you?"
"Home. With police."
Mark exhaled.
"Good. Keep them there."
"Answer me."
"I didn't sign any petition."
He drove over with a portable file box and a face that looked ten years older than the last Christmas card we had received from him.
Mark opened the box on our dining table.
"Frank retained me after Anna died. Not to hide what Linda did. To protect Ryan while he figured out how to report her without losing his son to the system."
Ryan's jaw tightened.
"He never reported her."
"He tried. Then Linda threatened to tell police Frank caused the bruising."
"Did he?"
"No. But in 1994 a frightened seven-year-old had already told a social worker he saw his father grab Anna. Frank believed nobody would trust a child once Linda coached him."
Ryan sat very still.
"I said that?"
Mark looked at him sadly.
"You said whatever your mother told you to say."
He pulled out a notarized document.
It was Frank's will amendment.
If Ryan ever had a child, Linda was barred from unsupervised contact.
Ryan closed his eyes.
"I knew about the warning. I didn't know this existed."
Mark frowned.
"You opened Frank's fatherhood envelope, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Then where is the cassette?"
Ryan looked at me.
"What cassette?"
Mark's face drained.
"Frank recorded Linda the night Anna died."
From upstairs came a soft thump.
The deputies drew their hands toward their belts.
We had searched the house.
May you like
Linda was gone.
At least we thought she was.
