Chapter 6
I stared at the photograph until the faces blurred.
“That's impossible.”
Detective Ramirez remained quiet.
Arthur studied it.
Robert.
Daniel.
Michael.
Vanessa.
All standing together nearly four years earlier.
I looked at Arthur.
“You said Vanessa never worked for Harrison.”
“She didn't.”
“Then why is she in a company photograph?”
“I don't know.”
Ramirez pointed toward the background.
“It appears to be a charity event.”
Arthur nodded slowly.
“We hosted several every year.”
“So she could have attended as a guest?”
“Yes.”
“Whose guest?”
Arthur looked at Robert.
Or rather, at Robert's face in the photograph.
“Probably his.”
I felt confused.
“But she already knew Michael.”
Ramirez folded his hands.
“We interviewed Robert this morning.”
My heart beat faster.
“What did he say?”
“He met Vanessa approximately four years ago.”
“When?”
“Three months before this photo was taken.”
“Through Michael?”
“No. Through Daniel Price.”
Arthur's jaw tightened.
Ramirez continued.
“Daniel introduced Vanessa to Robert at a company fundraiser. Robert began dating her several weeks later.”
I looked down at Michael's warning.
Don't trust her.
“Did Robert know Michael suspected Daniel?”
“No.”
Arthur spoke.
“Michael's investigation was confidential.”
“Then how did Vanessa know?”
No one answered.
A terrible possibility formed in my mind.
“Michael told her.”
Ramirez nodded.
“That's one theory.”
“Why would he?”
“We need more information.”
I stood.
“I have his things.”
Ramirez looked up.
“Where?”
“Garage.”
Officer Daniels immediately said, “We should search with you.”
I nodded.
For three years, I had avoided those boxes.
Not because I didn't care.
Because I cared too much.
Michael's jackets still smelled faintly like his cologne for months after his death.
His tools.
His running shoes.
The ridiculous coffee mug that said WORLD'S OKAYEST HUSBAND.
I had packed everything away when grief made breathing difficult.
Now four strangers followed me into the garage to search the remains of my marriage for evidence.
I hated it.
But I opened the first box.
Documents.
Tax returns.
Old manuals.
Nothing.
Second box.
Clothes.
Third.
Electronics.
An old laptop.
Ramirez looked interested.
“Did police examine this after the accident?”
“No.”
“May we take it?”
“Yes.”
I removed a stack of notebooks.
Michael had always written everything down.
Lists.
Measurements.
Reminders.
I flipped through one.
Grocery notes.
Lily’s pediatrician appointment.
Change air filter.
Pick up dry cleaning.
Normal life.
Then the handwriting changed.
Numbers.
Initials.
D.P.
V.C.
R.C.
My heart accelerated.
“Here.”
Ramirez took the notebook.
Arthur leaned over.
One page listed project numbers.
Another had payment amounts.
At the bottom, Michael had written:
V says Daniel is scared.
Another page:
V gave me copies. Why?
Then:
Robert doesn't know.
I stared.
“Vanessa was helping Michael.”
“It appears that way,” Ramirez said.
Arthur frowned.
“Then why did Michael write not to trust her?”
I turned another page.
A sentence had been underlined twice.
V wants immunity before she gives me the rest.
Ramirez photographed every page.
Then I found the final entry.
Two days before Michael died.
Vanessa lied.
She isn't helping me.
She's protecting herself.
My hands started trembling.
Below that:
Evidence moved.
Not office.
Not house.
Where had he moved it?
Ramirez asked, “Did Michael have any storage unit? Safe deposit box?”
“No.”
“Second property?”
“No.”
Arthur looked thoughtful.
“What about work locations?”
“He wouldn't hide evidence at Harrison if he suspected people there.”
“Friends?”
I shook my head.
Then I remembered.
The bakery.
Michael had helped me lease the building.
Before I officially opened, he spent months renovating it.
He built shelves.
Counters.
Storage cabinets.
He joked that he knew every screw in the place.
“He had the bakery.”
Ramirez looked at me.
“What?”
“The building existed before Michael died. We were renovating it.”
“Could he have hidden something there?”
“Yes.”
Arthur stood.
“We should go.”
Ramirez raised a hand.
“Police will go first.”
The bakery was fifteen minutes away.
When we arrived, my stomach dropped.
The front door was open.
Not unlocked.
Open.
The lock had been smashed.
Ramirez immediately stopped me.
“Stay here.”
Two officers entered.
Minutes felt like hours.
Finally Ramirez returned.
“Clear.”
I stepped inside.
My bakery looked worse than after the flood.
Cabinet doors had been torn off.
Shelves emptied.
Boxes opened.
Someone had searched everything.
“Who did this?”
“We'll find out.”
My heart pounded.
“They were looking for Michael’s evidence.”
“Probably.”
Arthur examined the broken counter.
“How would anyone know to search here?”
I thought of the notebook.
Claire.
“Claire had keys.”
Ramirez nodded.
“She may have searched previously.”
“But this damage is new.”
“Yes.”
I looked around.
“If they found what they wanted, why destroy everything?”
“Maybe they didn't find it.”
That gave me a strange flicker of hope.
I walked through the kitchen.
Everything Michael had built was familiar.
The shelves.
The stainless counters.
The storage closet.
Then I saw the wall.
A wooden trim piece near the walk-in pantry was slightly crooked.
Michael hated crooked trim.
He would never have left it that way.
I approached.
“Emily,” Ramirez warned.
“I know this wall.”
I touched the trim.
It moved.
Behind it was a narrow cavity.
My breath caught.
Ramirez put on gloves.
He removed the panel.
Inside was a metal box.
Arthur whispered, “He did it.”
Ramirez carefully lifted it.
There was a small combination lock.
I stared at it.
“Try Lily’s birthday,” I said.
Michael used Lily’s birthday for everything.
Ramirez entered six digits.
Click.
The box opened.
Inside were three flash drives.
A thick envelope.
And a handwritten letter.
My name was on the front.
EMILY.
I couldn't breathe.
Ramirez looked at me.
“You should open it.”
My fingers shook as I unfolded the paper.
Em,
If you ever find this, then I failed to come home and explain everything myself.
I stopped.
Tears fell onto the page.
I forced myself to continue.
I'm sorry I lied about work.
I told myself I was protecting you and Lily, but I think I was also protecting myself from admitting how frightened I am.
I found evidence that Daniel Price and several contractors are falsifying safety inspections and paying people inside the company.
Vanessa approached me because she said Daniel had threatened her.
At first I believed she wanted out.
She gave me documents.
Then I learned she was taking money too.
She's not a victim.
She's part of it.
I looked up.
Arthur's face was white.
I continued.
Robert doesn't know.
At least I don't think he does.
Vanessa is using him to stay close to Harrison.
Daniel believes she can influence Robert.
What worries me is that Vanessa has become desperate.
She knows I copied everything.
Yesterday she asked where I keep the files.
I lied.
If anything happens to me, go to Arthur Harrison.
Do not trust Daniel.
Do not trust Vanessa.
And please, Em, don't blame yourself for not knowing.
I wanted home to remain the one place where this didn't exist.
Kiss Lily for me.
Tell her Daddy loved her more than pancakes on Sunday.
Tell her I was trying to do the right thing.
I love you.
Always.
Michael
I pressed the letter against my chest.
For three years, I had imagined Michael's final thoughts.
Had he been scared?
Had he thought of us?
Now I knew.
And somehow knowing hurt more.
Lily.
Pancakes on Sunday.
I sobbed.
Officer Daniels put a hand on my shoulder.
Nobody rushed me.
Nobody told me to be strong.
Finally I looked at Ramirez.
“Someone killed him.”
Ramirez chose his words carefully.
“We now have reason to reopen questions surrounding his death.”
“That's not what I said.”
“No.”
“Someone killed my husband.”
Arthur's voice was quiet.
“If these files contain what Michael described, a great many people had reasons to silence him.”
Ramirez sealed the flash drives as evidence.
Then an officer called from the front.
“Detective!”
We followed him.
He pointed toward the security monitor.
My bakery cameras had been damaged during the flood.
But one camera in the parking lot still worked.
Footage from the previous night showed a car arriving at 3:17 a.m.
A man got out.
Entered the bakery.
Twenty minutes later he left.
Ramirez froze the image.
Arthur recognized him immediately.
“Daniel.”
My stomach twisted.
Daniel Price had searched my bakery hours after Vanessa's arrest.
Which meant he knew she was in trouble.
He knew the evidence might still exist.
And he was desperate enough to break in himself.
Ramirez took out his phone.
“We need units at Daniel Price’s residence and office.”
Arthur looked at me.
“This could finally expose everything.”
But I couldn't feel relief.
Because the video continued.
Daniel returned to his car.
Before getting in, he looked toward the camera.
Then he held up his phone.
The screen was facing outward.
On it was a photograph.
A photograph of Lily walking into her elementary school.
Taken two days earlier.
A message appeared beneath the photo.
Even on the grainy security screen, the words were readable.
May you like
STOP DIGGING.
OR NEXT TIME, SHE DOESN'T COME HOME.
