Chapter 5
I stared at the message until the words blurred.
Ask your wife who she met at the hotel.
David looked at me.
I could see the question in his face.
I hated that question.
Because two hours earlier, I would have answered it with anger.
I would have called Emily.
I would have demanded names.
I would have let suspicion do what it had been doing to our marriage for weeks.
Instead I took out my phone.
Then stopped.
David noticed.
“You’re not calling her?”
“I am.”
“But?”
I looked at the writing again.
“This is exactly what Jake wants.”
David nodded slowly.
“That boy knows you.”
“He knows how to push me.”
I photographed the message for the police.
Then I called Emily.
She answered immediately.
“Is everyone okay?”
“Yes.”
“Was Jake there?”
“He left before we arrived.”
“Did he take the folder?”
“Yes.”
She went silent.
I leaned against the kitchen counter.
“There was a message.”
“What message?”
I closed my eyes.
“Jake wrote something about a hotel.”
No response.
My chest tightened despite everything I had just told myself.
“Emily?”
“I know what he means.”
David looked at me.
I turned slightly away.
“Okay.”
She sounded surprised.
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“No.”
I took a breath.
“I’m going to ask you what it means.”
Silence.
Then she said, “And if you don’t like my answer?”
“I’m going to listen anyway.”
Her voice softened.
“The hotel was the Westin near the airport.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
The same day as the ultrasound.
Of course.
My stomach twisted.
“Who did you meet?”
“A lawyer.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“A divorce lawyer.”
I closed my eyes.
It hurt.
I had known she wanted to move out.
I knew she had considered leaving.
But hearing those two words made it real in a new way.
“Ryan?”
“I’m here.”
“I didn’t hire her.”
I swallowed.
“You met her.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Forty minutes.”
“Why a hotel?”
“She was attending a conference there. My coworker recommended her.”
I stared at Jake’s message.
“How would Jake know?”
“I don’t know.”
Then she gasped softly.
“What?”
“I saw him.”
My body stiffened.
“At the hotel?”
“In the parking lot.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
“What happened?”
“He waved at me. I asked why he was there.”
“And?”
“He said he was meeting someone about work.”
I squeezed my phone.
“He followed you.”
“Maybe.”
“No. He saw you go into a hotel. He knew I didn’t know. He saved it.”
“For what?”
I looked at the message.
“For tonight.”
David muttered a curse.
Emily heard him.
“Dad’s there?”
“Yes.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s angry.”
“Good.”
David actually smiled.
I continued.
“Emily, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For the fact that for half a second, I almost let that message work.”
She was quiet.
“Did you think I was cheating?”
“I didn’t know what to think.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes.”
I forced myself to say it.
“Yes, for half a second I wondered.”
Her voice cooled.
“And then?”
“Then I remembered I’ve spent two months giving you reasons to wonder the same thing about me.”
Silence.
“I didn’t want a divorce,” she said.
I closed my eyes.
“I need you to know that.”
“Then why meet the lawyer?”
“Because I needed to know what would happen if I left.”
“To the babies?”
“Yes.”
“And the house?”
“Yes.”
“And our money?”
“Yes.”
I nodded though she couldn’t see me.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her voice broke.
“I sat in my car afterward and threw the attorney’s card away.”
My throat tightened.
“Why?”
“Because I loved you more than I was angry at you.”
I pressed my fingers against my eyes.
“And then I went home and waited for you to tell me the truth.”
I had not.
Every day, she had waited.
Every day, I had chosen silence.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
The way she said it hurt.
Not forgiving.
Not rejecting.
Just tired.
David walked through the room inspecting damage.
Then he stopped near the back door.
“Ryan.”
I looked up.
He was holding something.
A small black device.
“What is that?”
He walked toward me.
“Camera.”
I frowned.
It was tiny.
Smaller than a phone charger.
David turned it over.
“Not mine.”
My skin went cold.
One of the officers came over.
“Where did you find it?”
“Behind that plant.”
The officer took it carefully.
David looked around his own kitchen as if the walls had betrayed him.
“You think Jake put that here?”
The officer didn’t answer immediately.
“We’ll document it.”
I stared at the device.
Then a thought hit me.
“David.”
“What?”
“If he put one here…”
David’s face changed.
We looked at each other.
“Our house.”
I grabbed my keys.
The officer stepped forward.
“Sir.”
“My wife’s at the hospital.”
“I understand, but—”
“If Jake put cameras in this house, he may have put them in mine.”
“We can send officers.”
“I’m going.”
David grabbed his jacket.
“So am I.”
We returned to the hospital first.
Emily had been discharged by then.
Carol stood beside her wheelchair.
The moment she saw me, she asked, “What happened?”
I crouched in front of Emily.
“We need to check the house.”
“Why?”
I showed her a picture of the camera.
Her face went pale.
“Oh my God.”
“We don’t know that Jake put any in our house.”
“But he could have.”
“Yes.”
Carol looked furious.
“That man has been inside your home?”
“He’s my brother.”
“Exactly.”
Emily closed her eyes.
I stood.
“Tonight we’re staying somewhere else.”
She looked up.
“Together?”
The question hurt.
“If you want.”
She studied my face.
“Where?”
“Hotel.”
A humorless laugh escaped her.
“That feels appropriate.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
David did too.
Carol didn’t.
“No hotels,” she said. “Come home with us.”
David looked at her.
“Our house was just broken into.”
Carol’s mouth opened.
Then closed.
I said, “Hotel.”
Emily nodded.
“Fine.”
We drove home with a police officer behind us.
The house looked normal.
That was the worst part.
Our couch.
Our kitchen.
Our wedding picture.
Everything appeared exactly the same.
But suddenly I felt watched.
The officer helped us inspect obvious locations without disturbing potential evidence.
In the living room, nothing.
Kitchen, nothing.
Home office, nothing.
Then Emily entered our bedroom.
She stopped.
“What?”
She pointed toward the bookshelf.
A small USB-style charger was plugged into the wall.
I walked closer.
“Is that ours?”
“No.”
My stomach turned.
The officer examined it.
His expression changed.
“Don’t touch it.”
Emily grabbed my arm.
Another camera.
In our bedroom.
Carol whispered, “Oh, dear God.”
I wanted to be sick.
“How long?” Emily asked.
The officer shook his head.
“We’ll need to determine that.”
I looked around.
Every private conversation.
Every argument.
Every night.
Had Jake watched us?
Recorded us?
Why?
Then I remembered the messages he always seemed to send at strange times.
The way he knew when I was at work.
The way he knew Emily had gone to a hotel.
The way he knew exactly what to write to split us apart.
He had been collecting our secrets.
Our fears.
Our weaknesses.
I walked into the office.
The tax folder had once been inside the bottom filing cabinet.
Jake knew where it was because Emily had handed it to him.
But what else had he taken?
I opened drawers.
Everything looked normal.
Then I noticed the safe.
The door was slightly open.
My heart stopped.
“Emily.”
She came in.
Her face changed.
“We always lock that.”
“I know.”
I opened it.
Passports.
Birth certificates.
Property papers.
A small envelope of cash.
Most of it remained.
But one folder was missing.
Emily whispered, “What was in it?”
I already knew.
“Our wills.”
She frowned.
“So?”
“And insurance.”
Her eyes widened.
“Life insurance?”
“Yes.”
My policy.
Her policy.
Beneficiary information.
Account numbers.
Jake now had copies.
Emily wrapped her arms around herself.
“Why would he need that?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Normally I would have ignored it.
Tonight I answered.
“Hello?”
A man spoke.
“Is this Ryan Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“This is Daniel Price with NorthStar Casualty. I’m following up regarding the beneficiary-change request on your policy.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What beneficiary change?”
There was a pause.
“The request submitted yesterday.”
I gripped the phone.
“I didn’t submit any request.”
Another pause.
Then the man’s voice became careful.
“Mr. Mercer, I think we need to transfer you to our fraud department.”
Emily stared at me.
“What?”
I covered the microphone.
“Someone tried to change my life-insurance beneficiary.”
Her face drained.
“To who?”
I didn’t know yet.
Twenty minutes later, I did.
The request had attempted to remove Emily.
The new beneficiary was listed as an LLC.
Mercer Family Consulting.
I had never heard of it.
But the mailing address was familiar.
I read it twice.
Then looked at Emily.
She whispered, “What?”
I showed her.
Her eyes widened.
“That’s…”
May you like
“Yes.”
The address belonged to my mother.
