“In the weeks leading to September eleventh, one piece of bad news after another trickled in,” Emma said. “The evidence started to pile up, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing on the nightly news. A length of rope was discovered in Victoria’s car that police said matched the rope around Cameron Young’s neck. The whole damn crime scene was apparently covered in Victoria’s fingerprints and DNA. Her urine was recovered from the bathroom toilet and her blood was found in the master bedroom.”
Avery’s chardonnay-clouded mind raced. She was still working angles in her mind about how to obtain footage of that homemade sex video. But she needed more than that. She needed access to the case file and the intimate details about the investigation. She thought for a moment about the channels she could peruse to obtain such details. Finally, she brought her thoughts back to the present and pointed at the answering machine.
“What does the answering machine have to do with all of it?”
Emma took a sip of wine to steady herself. “Victoria called me that day.”
“What day?”
“September eleventh. After the first plane struck the North Tower. She called to tell me she was trapped. She called to . . . to say good-bye.”
Avery slowly put down her wineglass. “Oh, Emma, that’s awful. And you kept the message all these years?”
“Yes. But not for that reason. Not because it was Victoria saying good-bye. She told me something else that day. I want you to hear it.”
Avery waited, not blinking and barely breathing. The wine buzz was simultaneously interfering with, and facilitating, her concentration. Slowly, Emma reached over to the answering machine and pressed the play button. There were a few seconds of static before a voice was heard.
“Emma!”
The voice of Victoria Ford was amazingly clear as it echoed from the twenty-year-old machine.
“If you’re there, pick up the phone!”
There was a long pause as Victoria waited for her sister to respond to her desperate plea. Avery shifted her gaze from the machine to Emma, but Emma had her eyes closed. Avery wondered how many times the woman had listened to this recording over the last twenty years. In the background of the recording, Avery heard yelling and crying and general chaos.
“Emma, I’m in the city . . . at the World Trade Center. Something’s happened. There was an explosion and people are saying a plane hit the building. I’m in the North Tower and . . . I think we’re trapped. There’s a fire on the floors below us that is preventing us from getting to the ground floor. We’re all heading up to the roof. There will be helicopters, some are saying, to rescue us. I don’t know if I believe it, but I’m following the crowd. There’s nowhere else to go. I love you! Tell Mom and Dad I love them, too. I’ll call again when I know what’s happening. Bye for now.”
Emma pressed a button to stop the recorder. She looked up to Avery, who had tears in her eyes.
“Emma, that’s . . . tragic. I’m so sorry. It must be horrible to . . . have that tape. To have that reminder.”
“There’s more,” Emma said. “Another message. And that’s what I really want you to hear.”
Emma took a deep breath and another sip of wine before starting the answering machine again.
“Emma, it’s me. Umm . . . listen. I’m hearing some crazy things right now. It’s all very chaotic and I don’t know what to believe. Terrorists and airplanes. There was another explosion and people are saying a second plane hit the tower. Or the South Tower. I don’t . . . there’s nowhere for us to go. The door to the roof was locked, so we’re going to try to go down again. Someone said they know a different stairwell that might be open. So . . . I’m going now. But . . .”
A long pause hollowed the air on the patio and Avery noticed she had stopped breathing. She was leaning closer to the answering machine, waiting for Victoria Ford’s next words. There was a softness to this recording that was not present in the first. A lack of background noise and absence of the chaos that had been present in the first recording lent a stillness to this message that gave Avery the impression that not only Victoria Ford, but the building itself had given in to its fate. Victoria’s voice finally came.
“Everything that’s happening with me. Everything with the investigation. Please know . . . It’s important to me that you know . . . I didn’t do the things they’ve accused me of. I loved Cameron, that much is true. But I didn’t kill him. You know me, Em. You know I’m not capable of that. They said they found my blood and urine at the scene. But that can’t be true. None of it can be true. Please believe me. If I . . . Emma, if I’m not able to get out of this building . . . Please believe that I’m innocent. Please . . .”
Avery waited through several seconds of silence. For a moment she thought the recording was finished, but Emma made no move to stop the machine. Finally, Victoria Ford’s voice came back to them one last time.
“Find a way, Em. Find a way to prove it. Please? Just find a way to prove to the world that I’m not the monster they’ve painted me to be. I’ve gotta go now. I love you. ”
Emma reached to the center of the table and stopped the recording. She looked up at Avery.
“So there you have it. My sister’s dying request was for me to prove her innocence. I’ve tried for twenty years but have made little progress. The people who were involved with the case back then, like the rest of the world, became overwhelmed by the aftermath of 9/11. When things returned to some state of normal, my sister and the case against her was packed away. The matter was considered finished. I tried to keep the investigation going, knowing that the things they claimed my sister did could not be true. But no one wanted to hear from me. No one wanted to talk to me. No one cared.”
“I care,” Avery said.