Chapter 6
I couldn’t process the sentence.
“My father investigated Claire?”
Mom nodded.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if you know when it started.”
“You said she met me after Dad died.”
“She did.”
“Then how was she stealing from his company?”
“She wasn’t using the name Claire Dawson.”
I stared.
“What name?”
Mom swallowed.
“Rachel Cole.”
The room went silent.
Detective Morales immediately moved closer.
“Linda, explain everything.”
Mom looked exhausted.
The paramedic pressed gauze against the cut near her temple.
She ignored him.
“Your father’s company had a bookkeeping problem,” she said to me. “Small amounts at first. Then bigger transfers.”
“What company?”
I almost shouted it.
“Dad sold the company before he died.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“Because he didn’t want you involved.”
“That’s becoming a family tradition.”
Mom flinched.
I regretted it instantly.
But I was too angry to apologize.
“What does Claire have to do with it?”
“Your father hired an outside investigator.”
“Nathan.”
“Yes.”
“He was her husband.”
“We didn’t know.”
“How did Dad know Claire?”
“He didn’t. Not as Claire.”
Mom looked at Morales.
“There was a woman working through one of the company’s vendors. She handled invoices. Her name on the paperwork was Rachel Cole.”
My stomach turned.
“Claire’s middle name is Rachel.”
Mom nodded.
“Your father discovered that after Nathan gave him the first report.”
“Wait.”
I rubbed my face.
“Nathan was investigating his own wife?”
“That’s what your father believed.”
“Why would he?”
“I don’t know.”
Morales asked, “What happened to the investigation?”
Mom stared at the floor.
“Your father died.”
My throat tightened.
Dad’s death had been ruled a heart attack.
He was fifty-eight.
It happened in his office.
Suddenly the memory felt different.
“What are you saying?”
“Nothing.”
Mom looked at me quickly.
“I am not saying Claire or Nathan killed your father.”
“Then why are we talking about this?”
“Because three days after your father died, his office was broken into.”
I froze.
I remembered that.
The family assumed someone had heard the owner died and thought cash or electronics might be inside.
Nothing obvious was stolen.
At least that was what Mom told me.
“What was taken?”
“One file.”
“Whose?”
“Rachel Cole’s.”
I looked at Detective Morales.
She was already taking notes.
“And you knew all of this before I married her?”
Mom’s face crumpled.
“No.”
“When did you figure it out?”
“Last year.”
I stepped back.
My chest tightened.
“Last year.”
“Daniel—”
“You knew for a year?”
“I suspected.”
“That woman slept beside me.”
“I know.”
“She gave birth to my daughter.”
“I know.”
“And you suspected she had been involved in stealing from Dad?”
“I had no proof.”
“You had enough to investigate.”
“I did.”
I stared at her.
“What did you find?”
Mom closed her eyes.
“Her photograph.”
“Where?”
“In an old company archive.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Because you had just become a father.”
“That is not an excuse.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That if I was wrong, I would destroy your family.”
I almost laughed.
“If you were right, you could have saved it.”
Her eyes filled.
“I know.”
The words hung between us.
Morales interrupted.
“Do you still have the photograph?”
“At my bank.”
“Safe-deposit box?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“Copies of your husband’s records?”
Mom nodded.
“Some.”
Morales called another detective.
I barely listened.
My phone buzzed.
Another message from Claire.
THREE MINUTES.
Then:
SEND LINDA OUT.
Morales leaned toward me.
“Reply that Linda is injured.”
I typed.
Mom is hurt. She can barely stand.
Three dots.
Then:
LIAR.
Morales whispered, “Ask for proof Sophie is still okay.”
I did.
No answer.
Thirty seconds.
A minute.
Nothing.
Then my phone rang.
Video call.
Claire.
I nearly dropped it.
Morales motioned for silence.
I answered.
Claire’s face filled the screen.
She was inside a vehicle.
Her hair was pulled back.
No makeup.
She looked strangely calm.
“Where is Sophie?”
Claire tilted the phone.
My daughter sat in the back seat.
Alive.
Watching something on a tablet.
“Sophie!”
My voice cracked.
She heard me.
Her little head turned.
“Da-da.”
The sound destroyed me.
“Baby.”
Claire moved the camera back to herself.
“She’s fine.”
“Bring her home.”
“Tell your mother to come outside.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“No, Claire. I don’t.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Linda stole something from me.”
Mom whispered behind me, “No.”
Claire heard her.
Her eyes sharpened.
“There she is.”
“What did she steal?”
“A file.”
I looked at Mom.
“What file?”
Claire smiled without humor.
“The one your father died trying to use against me.”
My blood went cold.
“You knew my dad.”
“Barely.”
“You worked for his company.”
“For a vendor.”
“Under another name.”
“Rachel is my middle name.”
“Cole was Nathan’s name.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you lie?”
“Because people are allowed to have lives before they meet you.”
“You hid a marriage.”
“I hid a mistake.”
“You hid an investigation.”
“Because I didn’t steal from your father.”
“Then who did?”
Claire glanced toward someone outside the camera frame.
There was someone with her.
“Nathan?”
Her expression changed.
I heard a male voice.
“Claire.”
She muted the call.
I looked at Morales.
She was already sending instructions through her phone.
They were tracing it.
Claire unmuted.
“You need to tell Linda to give back what she took.”
Mom stepped closer.
“I don’t have it.”
Claire laughed.
“Still lying.”
“What does she think you have?” I asked Mom.
Mom shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Claire’s face tightened.
“The flash drive.”
Mom stopped moving.
There it was again.
Recognition.
“You do know.”
Mom whispered, “Daniel.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t have it anymore.”
Claire shouted through the phone.
“LIAR!”
Sophie began crying behind her.
I lost control.
“Stop yelling around my daughter!”
Claire went quiet.
For a second, guilt crossed her face.
Real guilt.
She turned and soothed Sophie.
That made everything worse.
Because she could still be tender.
Still look like the mother I knew.
Still terrify me.
I lowered my voice.
“Claire. Bring Sophie back.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“You don’t understand Nathan.”
My eyes went to Morales.
There.
The first crack.
“Then help me understand.”
Claire looked toward the unseen person again.
Her voice dropped.
“He thinks Linda kept evidence.”
“Against you?”
“Against him.”
I stared.
Mom whispered, “I knew it.”
Claire heard.
“What do you mean?”
Mom stepped toward the phone.
“Nathan was stealing from Robert.”
Claire’s face changed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Robert figured it out before he died.”
“Shut up.”
“He thought you were helping Nathan.”
“I said shut up.”
“But then he found the transfer logs.”
Claire’s eyes widened.
I looked at Mom.
“What transfer logs?”
Mom ignored me.
“They showed Nathan moved money through accounts in your name.”
Claire was breathing quickly now.
“He told me it was legal.”
“Your husband used you.”
“Ex-husband.”
“Then why are you with him now?”
Claire’s eyes filled.
“Because he found me.”
The anger in her voice disappeared.
For the first time, she sounded afraid.
“He found me after Sophie was born.”
I leaned toward the phone.
“What does he want?”
“He said your mother still had the drive.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Claire looked off-screen.
The male voice returned.
Louder.
“What are you telling them?”
Claire flinched.
The phone moved suddenly.
For half a second, I saw the driver.
Nathan.
He looked exactly like the police photograph.
Then the video jerked.
Claire whispered quickly.
“Cascade Fuel. North Bend.”
The call disconnected.
Morales shouted into her radio.
“North Bend! Cascade Fuel, North Bend!”
Everyone moved.
I grabbed my coat.
Harris stopped me.
“No.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“That’s my daughter.”
“We have units closer.”
“I don’t care.”
“Daniel, you arriving could escalate this.”
I shoved his hand away.
“I am not sitting here.”
Mom stood.
“I’m going too.”
“No.”
“Daniel—”
“You have a head injury.”
“She wants me.”
“Nathan wants something you had.”
Morales turned.
“Linda, where is the flash drive?”
Mom hesitated.
“Mom!”
“I mailed it.”
“What?”
“To your father’s attorney.”
“When?”
“Yesterday morning.”
Morales stared.
“Why?”
“Because after I saw Claire near the stairs, I knew something was wrong.”
“That was this afternoon.”
Mom shook her head.
“No.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“What did you see yesterday?”
She looked at me.
“Claire standing at the top of the stairs.”
My mouth went dry.
“With the empty stroller.”
May you like
I stared.
“She was practicing.”
