Chapter 7
The police told us Michael had withdrawn nearly ninety thousand dollars in cash over the previous month.
He had planned an escape.
That meant he had planned for things to go wrong.
The handgun made everything more dangerous.
For two days, there was no sign of him.
I stayed at the hospital whenever police allowed it.
Emma got stronger.
Michael became a shadow hanging over every hallway.
Every elevator opening made my heart race.
Every unfamiliar man made me look twice.
On the third morning, Ramirez came to the NICU.
“We found his phone.”
“Where?”
“In a trash can near the interstate.”
“Anything useful?”
“He deleted most of it.”
“Most?”
“A draft email remained on the device.”
“To who?”
“You.”
I stared at him.
“What did it say?”
Ramirez handed me a printed copy.
Sarah,
By the time you read this, everyone will have decided what I am.
Maybe they’re right.
But Claire is not telling you the whole truth.
She wanted your life long before I did.
I looked up.
“What does that mean?”
“We don’t know.”
I kept reading.
You think I married you for money. Maybe part of me did.
But I loved you.
That became the problem.
Claire knew it.
She knew I was going to end things with her after Emma was born.
She knew I wanted to confess about the money and find a way to fix it.
Ask her what happened the night your father died.
My hands stopped.
“What?”
Ramirez watched me carefully.
“My father died from a heart attack.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
“Who was there?”
“My mother.”
I thought.
“No. Mom found him.”
“Was Michael there earlier?”
I didn’t know.
I called my mother immediately.
She answered on the first ring.
“Mom, where was Michael the night Dad died?”
Silence.
“Why?”
“Just answer.”
“He came to dinner.”
My heart thudded.
“With me?”
“No. You were at a conference.”
I remembered.
Chicago.
I had flown home the next morning.
“Why was he there?”
“Your father asked him to come.”
“Did they argue?”
Another silence.
“Yes.”
“About what?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Was Claire there?”
“What? No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Did Dad eat or drink anything Michael gave him?”
“Sarah.”
“Mom!”
“I don’t know!”
Her voice broke.
“I went upstairs. They were drinking whiskey.”
My father rarely drank.
But when he did, he loved one particular expensive bourbon.
I remembered something from his autopsy.
He had alcohol in his system.
Nothing unusual.
Natural cardiac death.
No reason for suspicion.
Until now.
Ramirez arranged to reopen the file.
My father had been cremated, so there would be no new toxicology.
But police could review the house records, phone logs and old statements.
My grief turned into something darker.
Michael had entered every part of my family.
My marriage.
My money.
Maybe even my father’s death.
That afternoon, Claire’s attorney requested a meeting.
I almost refused.
Then I remembered Michael’s email.
Ask her what happened the night your father died.
We met in a secure conference room.
Claire wore county jail clothes.
No makeup.
No attitude.
She looked smaller.
Her attorney sat beside her.
Ramirez stood near the door.
I didn’t sit.
“What happened the night my father died?”
Claire’s eyes closed.
“Michael sent that message, didn’t he?”
“How do you know?”
“Because he always keeps a second knife.”
“What does that mean?”
“If one person turns on him, he destroys them with someone else.”
“Answer me.”
Claire opened her eyes.
“I wasn’t there.”
“Then what did happen?”
“Michael went to see your father.”
“I know.”
“He wanted him to release part of your trust early.”
“Why?”
“We owed dangerous people money.”
The words made my skin crawl.
“What people?”
“Private lenders.”
“Loan sharks?”
Her attorney interrupted.
“Claire.”
She ignored him.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Almost one million.”
My stomach tightened.
“Before Michael married me?”
“Some of it.”
“And after?”
“We borrowed more.”
“We?”
She nodded.
“You were involved in everything.”
“Yes.”
“At least you finally stopped lying about that.”
Her face tightened.
“Your father refused.”
“So Michael killed him?”
“No.”
“You expect me to believe you?”
“I don’t know what happened.”
“Then why did Michael tell me to ask you?”
“Because I told him to scare your father.”
Silence filled the room.
I gripped the back of a chair.
“How?”
“I said maybe if your father understood what could happen to his daughter’s marriage, he would help.”
“What could happen?”
“I told Michael to threaten divorce.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“Claire.”
“I swear.”
“Your word means nothing to me.”
She flinched.
Good.
I continued.
“What did Michael say after he left my parents’ house?”
Claire looked at her hands.
“He called me.”
“And?”
“He was angry.”
“What did he say?”
“That your father would never control him again.”
My heartbeat sped.
“Anything else?”
“He said, ‘He won’t be a problem much longer.’”
Ramirez stepped forward.
“Exact words?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell police this?”
“Because I didn’t connect it to his death.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course you didn’t.”
“I heard the next morning that he’d had a heart attack.”
“And that seemed normal?”
“He had heart problems.”
My father had mild hypertension.
Nothing more.
“What did Michael do after Dad died?”
Claire’s eyes met mine.
“He celebrated.”
My stomach turned.
“What?”
“Not like a party.”
“What does that mean?”
“He said things would be easier now.”
I sat down because my legs stopped working.
Claire leaned forward.
“There’s something else.”
“What now?”
“Your father called me once.”
I stared.
“When?”
“A week before he died.”
“How did he get your number?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me Michael was going to destroy both of us.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“What did you say?”
“I told him he didn’t know Michael.”
“And Dad?”
Claire’s mouth trembled.
“He said, ‘I know exactly what he is. The tragedy is that my daughter doesn’t.’”
I covered my face.
My father had tried.
Again and again.
And everyone had hidden things from me.
Dad hid his investigation.
Diane hid Claire.
Daniel hid the loan request.
My mother hid the argument.
They all thought they were protecting me.
Instead, they left me inside a lie.
I stood.
“I’m done.”
“Sarah.”
I turned.
Claire looked terrified.
“Michael won’t leave the country.”
“How do you know?”
“He doesn’t want to run.”
“Then what does he want?”
“You.”
I stared at her.
“He wants control.”
“He lost control.”
“That’s why he’s dangerous.”
Her attorney touched her arm.
She pulled away.
“He’ll try to make you talk to him.”
“He has a warrant.”
“He won’t care.”
“Why would I talk to him?”
“Because he knows the one thing you can’t ignore.”
My heart stopped.
Emma.
I turned to Ramirez.
“We need to go.”
We reached the NICU in thirteen minutes.
Police were already there.
Nothing had happened.
Emma was safe.
I nearly collapsed.
But when I entered the room, Denise looked confused.
“What?”
I asked.
“A package came for you.”
“What package?”
“No sender.”
Ramirez immediately took it.
Inside was Emma’s stuffed rabbit.
The one Michael and I had bought together when I was five months pregnant.
It had been inside our nursery.
May you like
Pinned to its ear was a note.
MEET ME OR NEXT TIME I COME FOR HER.
