Chapter 7
Detective Reed interviewed me for three hours the next morning.
Every detail.
Where I was when Laura left for work.
What time we spoke.
What I ate for dinner.
Whether we argued.
Whether she had life insurance.
Whether our marriage was happy.
The questions felt brutal.
But I answered them.
“Yes, she had life insurance.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred thousand.”
“Who received it?”
“I did.”
“What did you do with the money?”
“Paid the mortgage down. Put most of the rest into college accounts and investments for the kids.”
“Did you have financial problems?”
“No.”
“Any affair?”
“No.”
“Did Laura?”
“Not that I knew.”
“Any reason you wanted her dead?”
I stared at him.
“No.”
He held my gaze.
Then nodded.
“I have to ask.”
“I know.”
They pulled records.
My phone connected to our home Wi-Fi throughout the relevant time period.
A neighbor’s doorbell camera caught me taking the trash out at 9:14 p.m.
Laura’s crash occurred shortly after 10.
It would have been physically possible for me to leave afterward, but there was no evidence I did.
More importantly, a gas station camera had captured another vehicle near Laura’s car eighteen minutes before the crash.
That footage had been mentioned in the original file but dismissed because the plate was unreadable.
Technology had improved.
Investigators enhanced the image.
The vehicle appeared to be an older silver Chevrolet Tahoe.
Travis owned a silver Tahoe in 2022.
I stared at the image.
“You think he followed her.”
“We think it deserves investigation,” Reed said.
Always careful.
Always refusing the conclusion until evidence earned it.
I was grateful for that now.
Because I needed facts more than I needed rage.
Monroe entered the room halfway through the meeting.
“We found Wade.”
Peter Wade.
Rachel’s former boss.
“What did he say?”
“He lawyered up.”
“Of course.”
“But before counsel arrived, he said one interesting thing.”
“What?”
“He claimed Rebecca Mason destroyed his life.”
Rachel.
“What did he mean?”
“He blamed her for the drug inventory issue.”
“Laura reported it.”
“Yes. But according to Wade, Rachel was the one diverting medication.”
“Then why pay Travis?”
“He denies knowing Travis.”
“Can he explain the payment?”
“He says his accountant handled the shell company.”
I laughed.
“That’s convenient.”
Monroe nodded.
“It is.”
Then she put down another record.
“Rachel deposited $8,000 cash four days after Travis received the $15,000.”
My stomach tightened.
“From Travis?”
“Unknown.”
“Can she explain it?”
“She says it was savings.”
“Did she have proof?”
“No.”
“And she told you Travis forced her to do things?”
“Through counsel, she’s now suggesting Travis manipulated her.”
I thought about the voicemail.
“Is she trying to make a deal?”
“Possibly.”
That afternoon, Rachel’s attorney contacted mine.
She wanted to speak to me.
Absolutely not.
Samuel agreed.
“No direct contact.”
“She says she wants to apologize.”
“No.”
“She says she has information about Laura.”
That stopped me.
Samuel watched my face.
“Still no direct contact.”
“What if she knows something?”
“She can tell police.”
“What if she won’t?”
“Then she’s bargaining with trauma.”
I hated that he was right.
Through her lawyer, Rachel offered information in exchange for my support at her bail hearing.
I refused.
Then she changed the offer.
Information in exchange for me not immediately filing for divorce.
I refused.
Then she sent a message through counsel.
Ask Daniel what Laura kept in the blue notebook.
My heart stopped.
Laura had a blue notebook.
She kept it in her work bag.
After her death, I never found it.
I had assumed it was lost in the crash.
Only a handful of people would know about it.
Mostly hospital coworkers.
I called Reed.
He visited Rachel.
Hours later, he returned.
“She admits knowing Laura.”
I closed my eyes.
Finally.
“What else?”
“She says they were friendly.”
“Friendly?”
“Not close. But they spoke at work.”
“She lied to me for years.”
“Yes.”
“Why did she marry me?”
“She claims she fell in love with you after meeting you by coincidence.”
“Do you believe that?”
“My belief doesn’t matter.”
“What does she say about Laura’s death?”
“That Travis scared Laura.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
“According to Rachel, after Laura filed the complaint, Travis approached her in the hospital parking garage.”
“Why?”
“Rachel says Wade asked Travis to intimidate her.”
“Wade hired Travis?”
“That’s her claim.”
“And Rachel knew?”
“She says she learned later.”
“Did Travis cause the crash?”
“She says she doesn’t know.”
“But she knew he followed Laura.”
“She admits knowing he was supposed to frighten her.”
I could barely sit still.
“And she married me without telling me any of this.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Her answer is that she was ashamed and afraid.”
I laughed bitterly.
“She was so ashamed she changed her name.”
“She says she started using Rachel, her middle name, professionally after leaving the company.”
“And lied about living in Knoxville.”
“Yes.”
“And lied about knowing my wife.”
“Yes.”
“And kept Laura’s photo.”
Rachel’s explanation for that was even worse.
“She says she kept the photo because she felt guilty.”
“Guilty about what?”
“Not warning Laura.”
Silence.
I stood by the window.
My children were outside with Megan and a victim advocate.
Noah was throwing a foam football.
Emma chased him.
They looked normal from a distance.
Up close, Noah checked the door every few minutes.
Emma would not let Megan stand more than six feet away.
Damage had invisible shapes.
“What about the blue notebook?” I asked.
Rachel claimed Laura documented everything.
Missing drug samples.
Suspicious shipments.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Including Rachel.
“Where is it?”
“She says Travis took it.”
“When?”
“After Laura died.”
“How?”
“That part gets complicated.”
I turned.
“Try me.”
Rachel claimed Travis went to the hospital after Laura’s crash and entered the staff locker room using an access badge Rachel gave him.
My stomach dropped.
“She helped him steal evidence?”
“She says she thought he was only retrieving paperwork that implicated her.”
“That is evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Where is the notebook now?”
“Rachel says Travis kept it as insurance.”
“Insurance against who?”
“Wade. Rachel. Anyone connected.”
“And Travis is missing.”
“Yes.”
My phone rang.
Megan.
I answered.
“Daniel.”
Her voice sounded wrong.
“What?”
“We’re inside.”
“What happened?”
“Someone drove past twice.”
I looked through the window.
A dark pickup passed the end of the street.
Slowly.
“Did you get the plate?”
“No.”
Reed was already moving.
He called officers.
I rushed outside.
Noah met me at the door.
“Is it Travis?”
“I don’t know.”
He grabbed my shirt.
“Don’t go outside.”
That stopped me.
My son was terrified I would leave the house.
I crouched.
“I’m staying.”
Sirens arrived minutes later.
The truck was gone.
A neighbor’s camera caught it.
Temporary plate.
Possibly fake.
That night, Reed received another break.
Travis used his debit card.
A gas station in Kentucky.
He was heading north.
Police agencies were alerted.
At 3:40 a.m., officers found the Tahoe outside a roadside motel near Louisville.
Travis was arrested without a fight.
Inside his room, police found cash.
Two phones.
May you like
A handgun.
And a blue notebook.
