Chapter 10 - A Christmas Gate Left Open
Christmas Eve came without a gala.
Malcolm canceled the gala and opened the foundation hall for a community supper. Missing donations were still being traced, restitution was being planned, and the investigation was far from finished. Reverend Odessa ran the kitchen. Pearl brought pies. Isaiah volunteered for an hour, then left to play basketball without anyone recording his hours.
Nia wore a clean red dress under a puffy coat. She carried the cloth doll Denise had made and passed out paper stars to guests.
“Do I have to hand them all out?” she asked Malcolm.
“Nope.”
“Can I keep one?”
“It's yours.”
“Then I pick the purple one.”
He watched her tuck the star into her coat pocket. The ordinary freedom of choosing a color nearly undid him.
Miss Bernice thanked Malcolm for her grandson's new coat, then warned him that it didn't make everything right. He agreed and went back to carrying trays.
Before supper ended, Detective Carter called with preliminary forensic findings. The warehouse alarm had triggered earlier than the official report claimed. Maintenance logs indicated the sprinkler system was disabled before the fire; investigators were still determining who ordered the work and why. Darius's statement had led them to more records, and Warren's attorney had requested a meeting.
“What about Denise?” Malcolm asked.
“We have reason to believe she was deliberately misled into approaching the loading entrance. We are not ready to make a final determination about criminal responsibility for her death.”
Malcolm thanked her for being precise. A wrong answer would not bring his sister back any sooner.
After the meal, Marcus Price arrived at a separate meeting arranged by the children's advocate. He wore a navy coat and held a paper bag containing two gifts. The adults had explained the meeting to Isaiah and Nia beforehand and made clear that either child could step away.
Isaiah stood stiffly by the doorway.
Marcus stopped several feet away. “Hey, son.”
“You got gray hair.”
“I've been working on it.”
Isaiah almost smiled. Then his face tightened.
“Why didn't you come?”
“I tried. I should've tried harder and differently. I'm sorry.”
“Mom said you wrote.”
“I did. Every birthday.”
“I got the cards yesterday.”
Marcus pressed his lips together. “You deserved them when I sent them.”
Nia peeked from behind Malcolm's coat.
“Are you my daddy?”
Marcus knelt, leaving space between them. “I am, sweetheart.”
“Can I look at you?”
“As long as you want.”
She studied his face the way she studied photographs of Denise. Then she held up her doll.
“Mommy made this.”
“I know. I helped choose the yarn.”
Nia took one cautious step forward. Nobody hurried her.
The meeting lasted twenty minutes. It did not erase years of separation. When it ended, Isaiah chose to walk Marcus to the door, and Nia asked whether he could visit again. The advocate said the adults would make a plan that centered the children.
Malcolm and Marcus finally stood alone beneath the porch lights.
“You thought I ran away,” Marcus said.
“I did, and I was wrong.”
“You never once asked what Denise wanted.”
“No.”
Marcus looked toward the children. “I want to be their father without fighting you for the privilege of loving them.”
“Then let's tell the truth,” Malcolm said. They shook hands. Forgiveness could wait.
Later, Malcolm carried Nia upstairs. She asked him to leave the bedroom door open a little. He did. He placed the doll beside her pillow, away from the shelf where the recording reindeer had once sat.
“Uncle Mal?”
“Yes?”
“Were you really surprised when you saw me cleaning those shoes?”
He sat on the edge of the bed. “More than I've ever been.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought this house was safe.”
She watched him carefully. “Can you make it safe?”
“I can keep working at it. And I'll listen when you tell me something isn't right.”
Nia nodded as though that answer was something she could test.
“Okay. Goodnight.”
Downstairs, Isaiah was putting Denise's picture on the mantel. Pearl had set a place beside it for a battery candle. Christmas music played low enough that people could talk over it.
Candace arrived just before midnight with a digital copy of an old phone record investigators had authorized her to review. It contained a call placed to Denise minutes before the warehouse fire. The caller used a disposable number but was captured on a separate office voicemail, saying, “Marcus is at the loading dock. Come alone.”
Malcolm recognized the familiar nickname in the message's greeting, the one Denise used for him. He felt sick.
“Was that Curtis?” he asked.
Candace shook her head. “The voice analyst won't identify a speaker from this alone.”
She placed a second document beside the recording. A courier had delivered an original handwritten dispatch sheet to the investigator that evening. It listed three people authorized to move the trucks: Warren, Darius, and a person identified only as M. REED.
“That's you,” Isaiah said from the doorway.
“It could be,” Malcolm answered.
The boy came farther into the study. “Did you sign it?”
“I don't remember signing anything that day.”
“That's not what I asked.”
Malcolm looked at him directly. “I didn't knowingly authorize that movement. We need to find out who did.”
His phone rang before Isaiah could answer.
Unknown number.
Malcolm let Candace see the screen, then took the call on speaker.
A woman spoke over the sound of traffic.
“Mr. Reed? My name is Teri Price. I'm Marcus's sister. Denise stayed at my place the night before the fire.”
“Why are you calling now?”
“Because I saw the news, and I have something you need. Denise made a recording. She told me not to share it unless somebody tried to blame Marcus.”
Malcolm braced a hand against the desk.
“What does it show?”
“Your brother going into the warehouse office with Warren. And somebody telling them to lock the south gate.”
“Can you send it?”
“Yes. But I'm standing outside your house. I wanted you to see the original.”
The gate camera chimed. On the monitor, Teri stood beside a small car, holding an old silver camcorder inside a clear bag. Malcolm started toward the door.
“Wait,” Teri said through the phone. “There's one other thing.”
He stopped.
“Denise wasn't only recording the men who moved the trucks. She was recording the person who paid them.”
The driveway lights came on. A second vehicle rolled to a stop behind Teri. Its driver switched off the headlights but did not get out.
Malcolm saw a figure in the windshield, face hidden by the reflection of his own Christmas lights.
“Who paid them?” he asked.
Teri looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice.
“I'll tell you when you open the gate. But your sister wrote one sentence on the tape, and you need to hear it first.”
She held the camcorder closer to her phone. Its old speaker crackled. Denise's voice emerged, weary and unmistakable.
“Malcolm, the person who hired them knows every room in our house.”
The second vehicle's door opened.
Upstairs, Nia began calling for her uncle.
Malcolm sent Isaiah upstairs to sit with Nia, then asked Candace to call Detective Carter. He put on his coat and walked toward the door, leaving the gate locked until help arrived.
May you like
The buzzer sounded again.
This time, it wasn't Teri pressing it.
