Chapter 8 - The Second Son

Ruth found the answer in an overlooked court record.

Charles and Vivian Whitmore had two sons. Daniel was the younger. Their oldest, Nathan, died at nineteen after falling from a parking garage. His death came six weeks before Thomas's accident.

The official report listed Nathan's death as a suicide. His friends disputed it. One witness said Nathan had been frightened and talked about exposing his father's business dealings.

“Two deaths, same family, six weeks apart,” Ruth said. “It's not proof of anything. But it needs scrutiny.”

We located Nathan's former girlfriend, Lisa Moreno, now a public school principal. She agreed to meet us at a diner forty minutes outside the city.

“Nathan wasn't perfect,” she told us. “But he wasn't planning to die. He was trying to get away from his father.”

Lisa pulled an old key from her handbag.

“Nathan made me promise not to use this unless someone came asking about Harbor Point.”

It belonged to a storage locker. Inside we found college textbooks, a soccer jersey, and a weatherproof case packed with minicassettes.

On one cassette, Nathan's trembling voice said, “If Dad finds out what I copied, he'll make it look like I did something stupid.”

Another voice answered from somewhere nearby.

It belonged to Thomas.

“Then we turn it over together. No more secret meetings.”

The recording ended with Nathan saying, “What if Daniel tells Mom?”

I stared at the machine.

Daniel had been thirteen at the time. How much could he have known?

Then Ruth played the final cassette.

A third voice spoke, calm and adult: “Nathan, hand me the evidence. Your father sent me.”

Thomas replied, “You're not supposed to be here.”

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There was a struggle, a thud, and then silence.

Lisa did not hand over Nathan's belongings casually. She asked us to describe Thomas first, then asked what we'd do if the tapes hurt people who were still alive. Ruth told her the recordings would go to investigators, not onto the internet. Only then did Lisa unlock the old case. She touched the soccer jersey with two fingers. 'He was nineteen,' she said. 'Everybody talks like he was a witness or a liability. He was a kid who loved terrible music and called me every night.'