Chapter 9
Lauren laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because fear sometimes came out wrong.
“Tomorrow?”
Detective Brooks stayed on speaker.
“Yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“We don't know.”
“You found a folder with my name and tomorrow's date.”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe you should know.”
“Lauren,” I said.
“No, Sarah. I'm serious.”
Brooks replied calmly.
“We're treating it seriously.”
“What was inside?”
“Photographs.”
“Of what?”
Another pause.
“Your home. Your office building. Your parking garage.”
Lauren stopped breathing.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Brooks continued.
“There are notes about your daily schedule.”
“Who wrote them?”
“Unknown.”
“Daniel?”
“Some appear printed. Some handwritten.”
“What does the date mean?”
“We're investigating.”
Maya stood.
“Lauren is not going home.”
“No argument,” Brooks said.
Lauren's face hardened.
“I wasn't planning to.”
Within an hour, officers were stationed outside Rebecca's house.
Lauren and I remained there.
Maya worked from the dining room.
Rebecca made coffee nobody drank.
I called Emily.
She answered immediately.
“Sarah?”
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Leave.”
Silence.
“What happened?”
“Police found a folder with your name in Daniel's storage unit.”
She didn't speak.
“Emily?”
“What was in it?”
“Surveillance pictures.”
“Oh my God.”
“There's a January date.”
“What date?”
I told her.
She went quiet.
“That was supposed to be our wedding day.”
My entire body chilled.
“You had a wedding date?”
“Not officially. Daniel wanted a private ceremony in January after he said the divorce was final.”
I closed my eyes.
Maybe the date on Emily's folder wasn't a plan to hurt her.
Maybe it was connected to the wedding.
Then Emily whispered, “Sarah.”
“What?”
“He asked me about life insurance too.”
My eyes opened.
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“What did he ask?”
“Whether my employer policy could name a fiancé as beneficiary.”
My stomach dropped.
“Did you change it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“HR said only a spouse or dependent could receive the full benefit unless I completed additional paperwork.”
“Did Daniel get angry?”
“A little.”
“How much is the policy?”
“Three hundred thousand.”
I looked at Maya.
She had heard everything.
“Get out of your apartment,” I said.
“Where do I go?”
“A hotel. A friend. Police station. Anywhere.”
Emily started crying.
“I feel so stupid.”
“You're alive.”
That silenced her.
“Stay that way.”
Detective Brooks arranged for officers to meet her.
Then we turned our attention to Lauren.
Her folder.
Tomorrow.
Her parking garage.
“Why would Daniel care about me?” Lauren asked.
“Because you helped me.”
“I only got involved after the party.”
Maya shook her head.
“Then the folder must have been created recently.”
Brooks had already said some photographs were from the previous forty-eight hours.
Someone had been watching Lauren almost immediately after I fled to her house.
Daniel had moved fast.
Too fast.
Rebecca stood at the window.
“If he wanted Sarah's shares, why target Lauren?”
I thought about my mother's estate.
“If I died, Lauren wouldn't inherit them.”
“No.”
“If Jacob was involved, maybe Lauren knew too much.”
“She didn't.”
Lauren shook her head.
“Until two days ago, I didn't know any of this.”
Maya looked up from her laptop.
“Maybe the purpose isn't inheritance.”
“What then?”
“Pressure.”
I understood.
“Hurt Lauren, control me.”
Nobody said anything.
Because it made sense.
My phone buzzed.
Daniel.
The police had his phone.
At least I thought they did.
The message read:
YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THE DEAL.
I showed Brooks.
He called someone immediately.
Two minutes later, his face hardened.
“Daniel is still in custody.”
“Then who sent that?”
“The message came from his number, but that doesn't mean he physically sent it.”
“Scheduled message?”
“Possibly.”
“Or someone has access,” Maya said.
Another message arrived.
YOUR SISTER HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOUR WEAK SPOT.
Lauren whispered, “Okay. I officially hate this.”
Then:
YOU HAVE UNTIL NOON TOMORROW.
A photograph appeared.
Lauren leaving her apartment that morning.
Taken from across the street.
My hands shook.
WHAT DO YOU WANT? I typed.
Brooks grabbed my wrist.
“Don't.”
“It may answer.”
“We control communication.”
“He's threatening my sister.”
“Exactly.”
I pulled my hand away.
“He controlled everything for eleven years.”
“Sarah.”
“Not this conversation.”
I typed again.
WHAT DO YOU WANT?
The answer came.
THE HALSTON VOTING RIGHTS.
Maya inhaled sharply.
Another message.
SIGN THEM TO JACOB.
I stared at the words.
“Jacob.”
Lauren shook her head.
“No. He sounded terrified.”
“He also lied about helping Daniel.”
Maya looked at Brooks.
“Can you trace this?”
“We're working on it.”
I typed:
JACOB IS WORKING WITH YOU?
No response.
Then:
YOUR BROTHER WAS ALWAYS EASIER TO UNDERSTAND THAN YOU.
My stomach twisted.
That sounded like Daniel.
His tone.
His arrogance.
But Daniel was in custody.
I typed:
PROVE LAUREN IS IN DANGER.
A photo appeared instantly.
Lauren's car.
Close-up.
Driver's side rear wheel.
Underneath, something small and black had been attached near the frame.
Lauren gasped.
“What is that?”
Brooks enlarged the photo.
His face changed.
“I don't know.”
He called officers at Lauren's house.
“Do not touch the vehicle.”
Ten minutes later, the bomb squad was requested.
Not because anyone knew it was explosive.
Because nobody wanted to guess.
Lauren sat silently.
I held her hand.
At 2:13 a.m., Brooks received confirmation.
The object wasn't a bomb.
It was a GPS tracker.
But attached beside it was something worse.
A small device connected near the brake system.
The technician believed it could interfere with fluid pressure after remote activation.
Exactly the kind of failure I had experienced in March.
Lauren looked at me.
“Same thing?”
“Maybe,” Brooks said.
But we all knew.
This was not theoretical anymore.
Someone had prepared to make Lauren's car fail.
Tomorrow.
Noon.
My fear became something else.
Rage.
“If Daniel is locked up, who installed it?”
Brooks looked tired.
“That is the question.”
I thought of Mr. Gray.
The unknown person Jacob mentioned.
Someone Daniel had found through work.
Someone capable of surveillance.
Someone who knew vehicles.
Someone still free.
“Find Mr. Gray.”
“We're trying.”
Rebecca suddenly stood.
“What company did Daniel work for?”
I stared at her.
“You know.”
“No. His exact division.”
“Corporate strategy and risk.”
“Risk.”
She walked quickly to her office.
We followed.
Rebecca opened an old acquisition file.
“Halston hired outside consultants three years ago after an executive received threats.”
She flipped through pages.
“Security review. Employee background work. Physical risk assessment.”
“What does this have to do with Daniel?”
“His company coordinated the vendors.”
She found an invoice.
Graystone Protective Services.
My heart stopped.
“Gray.”
Brooks took the page.
“Owner?”
Rebecca read.
“Martin Gray.”
Brooks immediately called dispatch.
Within minutes, they had an address.
Martin Gray.
Fifty-two.
Former private investigator.
Former police officer.
Licensed security contractor.
His company had worked with Daniel's employer on several projects.
His license had been suspended the previous year after complaints involving illegal surveillance.
“Is this him?” I asked.
“We don't know yet.”
Brooks contacted the mechanic.
Victor Salazar identified Martin Gray's photograph.
The man who had accompanied Daniel.
The room went silent.
“We found him,” Lauren whispered.
Not yet.
Police reached Gray's listed home before dawn.
Empty.
His office.
Empty.
His vehicle was gone.
At seven in the morning, Brooks received another update.
A traffic camera had captured Gray's SUV entering Chicago.
At eight-thirty, another camera caught it four blocks from Lauren's office.
“He doesn't know she's not there,” Brooks said.
“Then use that.”
Everyone looked at him.
He continued.
“If Gray believes Lauren is following her regular routine, we can watch for him.”
Lauren shook her head.
“You want me to be bait?”
“No. You stay here.”
“Good.”
“We put officers near your building.”
At ten-thirty, Gray's SUV appeared in the parking garage.
Officers moved in.
He fled.
A chase lasted twelve minutes.
Gray crashed into a delivery van near Wacker Drive.
He was arrested.
Nobody was seriously injured.
I thought it was over.
It wasn't.
When police searched his vehicle, they found gloves.
Tools.
A second GPS tracker.
Cash.
And a burner phone.
On that phone were messages from a contact saved only as D.
Brooks called me just before noon.
“We have the communication.”
“Daniel?”
“Looks that way.”
“What did he tell Gray to do?”
“Several things.”
“Say it.”
“Your vehicle in March.”
My eyes closed.
“The brake line?”
“Yes.”
“And Lauren?”
“Yes.”
“What about Emily?”
“Gray had been instructed to stage evidence suggesting she stole company funds.”
I opened my eyes.
“He wasn't going to kill her?”
“Not according to what we've seen.”
“Then why January?”
“The planned wedding date.”
“What was supposed to happen?”
“Daniel apparently intended to marry Emily, then shift financial liability connected to the stolen funds into accounts tied to her.”
I nearly laughed.
He had planned to use her too.
Not love her.
Use her.
“Daniel was going to frame Emily?”
“It appears possible.”
“And Lauren?”
Silence.
My stomach tightened.
“What was Gray supposed to do to Lauren?”
“Cause a nonfatal accident.”
“Nonfatal?”
“Those words appear in one message.”
“Why?”
“To pressure you into signing over the voting rights.”
I sat down.
Every person in Daniel's life was a piece on a board.
Me.
Emily.
Lauren.
Jacob.
Even Patricia.
“What about Jacob?”
Brooks paused.
“That is where things become complicated.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course.”
“Some of the messages to Gray weren't sent by Daniel.”
“Who sent them?”
“We traced access to a second device.”
My heart started pounding.
“Jacob?”
“No.”
“Patricia?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Brooks hesitated.
“Emily.”
I stopped breathing.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“I know.”
“She was with me at the party.”
“The messages predate the party.”
“What messages?”
“One instructed Gray to photograph your house.”
“No.”
“One asked for information about your daily schedule.”
“No.”
“Sarah—”
“She didn't know.”
“Maybe.”
“You think Emily was involved?”
“We don't know yet.”
My mind raced through everything Emily had done.
Showing me papers.
Sharing messages.
Helping.
Crying.
Warning me.
Then I remembered something.
She knew about the transfer authorization.
She worked in accounting.
She had created spreadsheets calculating the value of my shares.
And she had been wearing my necklace.
Maybe Daniel hadn't lied about everything.
Maybe Emily had simply been better at lying than he was.
My phone buzzed.
Emily.
One message.
SARAH, I NEED TO EXPLAIN.
Then another.
PLEASE DON'T BELIEVE EVERYTHING THE POLICE FIND.
My blood turned cold.
A final message came.
I KNEW ABOUT THE MONEY.
I stared at the screen.
Not the affair.
Not the divorce.
The money.
May you like
Emily knew.
And suddenly the woman I had started trusting became the most frightening mystery left.
