Chapter 4 - THE WATCH FRANK HID
Rachel did not sleep.
By seven the next morning, she was sitting beside her father's bed at St. Margaret Rehabilitation Center.
Damian stood near the window.
He had offered to wait outside.
Rachel had told him no.
Not because she wanted him there.
Because she was finished having conversations about her life that other people could later reinterpret for her.
Frank Hayes looked smaller than Damian expected.
Sixty-three.
Silver hair.
One side of his body still weaker from the stroke.
But his eyes were alert.
Rachel held his hand.
“Dad, I need to ask you about June fourteenth, 2017.”
Frank's fingers tightened.
That was answer enough.
Rachel's eyes filled.
“You remember.”
Frank looked at Damian.
Fear appeared immediately.
Damian hated what that told him.
He moved away from the bed.
“Mr. Hayes, I am not here to hurt you.”
Frank's mouth worked.
“Mar... ino.”
“Yes.”
Frank looked at Rachel again.
“Sorry.”
She shook her head.
“No. Not yet.”
The words hurt her to say.
But Rachel had spent too much of her life protecting other people's feelings before understanding what they had done.
“Claire said you have Matthew's watch.”
Frank closed his eyes.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then he pointed toward the small dresser.
Rachel opened the top drawer.
Socks.
A paperback western.
A shaving kit.
Nothing else.
Frank shook his head.
He pointed lower.
Rachel opened the bottom drawer.
Inside sat an old brown shoe box.
She removed it.
Damian stayed where he was.
Rachel lifted the lid.
On top was a folded Pittsburgh EMS jacket.
Beneath it lay a stainless-steel watch.
Damian recognized it instantly.
He had given it to Matthew on his thirtieth birthday.
Rachel picked it up.
The crystal was cracked.
The hands had stopped at 8:17.
“Dad?”
Frank began speaking slowly.
Each word required work.
“Road... rain.”
Rachel leaned closer.
“Take your time.”
“Car... wrong.”
“What was wrong?”
Frank touched his throat.
“Man... alive.”
“Matthew?”
Frank nodded.
Damian's face tightened.
“Was Isabel alive?”
Frank looked confused by the name.
Rachel showed him the Polaroid.
Frank's finger immediately touched Isabel's face.
“Yes.”
Damian whispered, “Where?”
Frank pointed away.
“Other... man.”
“Mercer?”
No recognition.
Rachel showed a photograph Leo had found online.
Frank became agitated.
“Yes. Him.”
“What did he do?”
Frank pointed toward the door.
“Took... woman.”
Damian's control slipped.
“While Matthew was alive?”
Frank nodded.
Rachel looked at her father.
“Dad, why didn't you report that?”
Pain crossed his face.
“Did.”
Everyone stopped.
“You reported it?”
Frank nodded urgently.
“Police.”
Rachel frowned.
“Then why wasn't it in the final report?”
Frank looked at Damian.
“Family.”
Damian understood before Rachel did.
“My father.”
Frank nodded.
Rachel sat back.
Frank reached for her hand.
“Money.”
She stared at him.
“What money?”
His eyes filled with shame.
“Mom.”
Rachel's face changed.
Her mother had died five years earlier after eighteen months of cancer treatment.
Bills had buried their family.
Rachel remembered Frank working double shifts.
Selling his truck.
Pretending everything was manageable.
“You took money?”
Frank cried silently.
Rachel withdrew her hand.
Damian looked away.
This was not his moment to control.
“How much?”
Frank shook his head.
“Enough?”
He closed his eyes.
Rachel stood and walked toward the window.
Her voice was quiet.
“You taught me not to lie.”
Frank's breathing hitched.
“You taught me that when something is wrong, being scared doesn't make it less wrong.”
“Rach...”
“You let me spend two years thinking we lost the house because you couldn't keep up.”
Frank cried harder.
“You could have told me.”
“Shame.”
The word was clear.
Rachel closed her eyes.
Anger remained.
But something else entered it.
Understanding.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
Frank pointed frantically at the watch.
“Not... bribe.”
Rachel looked back.
“What?”
He touched the watch.
“Matthew.”
Damian stepped forward despite himself.
“What did Matthew say?”
Frank struggled.
“Girl.”
Damian's pulse thudded.
“What girl?”
Frank looked irritated, as though the limitations of his own mouth were betraying him.
He pointed at the Polaroid.
At baby Sophie.
Then at Damian.
Rachel whispered, “Dad?”
Frank forced the words.
“His... little... girl.”
Nobody moved.
Damian stared at him.
“Matthew said Sophie was mine?”
Frank nodded.
Damian sat down.
It was the first time Rachel had ever seen him do something because his legs no longer trusted him.
Frank continued.
“Watch... Damian.”
“You were supposed to give me the watch?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
Frank's eyes filled again.
“Man came.”
“Arturo?”
Frank shook his head.
“Doctor.”
Mercer.
Rachel returned to the bed.
“What did Mercer say?”
Frank touched Rachel's photograph on the bedside table.
Then pointed downward.
“Family.”
“He threatened us?”
Frank nodded.
Damian's jaw hardened.
“And Claire?”
Frank's expression became complicated.
He held one palm high.
Then lower.
Rachel frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Frank tried again.
“Claire... stop.”
“Stopped Mercer?”
A nod.
Rachel looked at Damian.
That did not fit.
Claire had threatened Frank later.
But on the night of the crash, according to Frank, she had protected him.
Answer one.
Open two.
Frank reached for the shoe box again.
He pulled the EMS jacket aside.
Beneath it was a second object.
A small plastic evidence sleeve.
Inside sat a red glass bead attached to a short piece of silver chain.
Damian's expression changed immediately.
Rachel noticed.
“You know it.”
He nodded.
“My father's rosary.”
Arturo Marino had carried a red-beaded rosary for thirty years.
Not because he was particularly religious.
Because Damian's mother had given it to him before she died.
One bead had been missing since 2017.
Damian stared at the bead in Frank's hand.
“Where did you find this?”
Frank pointed to the Polaroid.
Then mimed driving.
“At the crash?”
Frank nodded.
“Which car?”
Frank shook his head.
Not Matthew's.
He pointed behind himself.
Then made a pushing motion.
Rachel's stomach dropped.
“A second vehicle?”
Frank nodded.
“It hit them?”
Another nod.
Damian became perfectly still.
The crash had been classified as loss of control on wet pavement.
No second vehicle.
No collision report.
No witness statement.
Nothing.
“Who was driving?”
Frank looked toward the printed photograph of Mercer.
Then pointed.
Rachel whispered, “Mercer.”
Frank nodded.
Damian picked up the red bead.
His father's rosary.
Mercer driving.
Matthew dying.
Isabel disappearing.
And Claire covering it up.
Frank reached for Damian's sleeve.
“Matthew... said...”
Damian leaned closer.
Frank forced one final sentence through damaged speech.
“Don't... let Arturo... take her.”
Damian stopped breathing.
Rachel stared at him.
Frank pointed to Sophie in the Polaroid.
May you like
Then to Damian.
“Your girl.”
