Chapter 7: The Missing Page
“Stop!””
My voice echoed down the storage aisle.
The man in the dark jacket didn't even turn around.
I ran after him.
Linda followed close behind, shouting my name.
He reached the exit before I did, shoved through the metal door, and disappeared into the parking lot.
By the time I reached the outside, a black pickup was already pulling away.
I couldn't see the license plate.
I stood there, breathless.
Linda caught up.
“Did you see his face?””
“Not clearly.””
“Was it someone you know?””
“No.””
She looked at the folder in my hands.
“He took the page.””
I nodded.
The blue folder was still open.
The final page of my husband's will was gone.
I looked down at the remaining documents.
Every page before it was intact.
Someone had known exactly what to take.
My phone rang again.
Sarah.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“What?””
“Did he get the page?””
I froze.
“How do you know someone took it?””
She didn't answer.
“Sarah.””
“I warned you.””
“No. You knew.””
“I knew someone else had access to the storage unit.””
“Who?””
“I don't know.””
“Then how did you know he would be there?””
Silence.
I felt my pulse pounding in my ears.
“You're lying to me.””
“Mom, listen to me.””
“No.””
“He's dangerous.””
“Who is he?””
“I can't tell you over the phone.””
“Why not?””
“Because I don't know who's listening.””
I looked at Linda.
She mouthed, *speakerphone*.
I switched it on.
Sarah continued.
“Go home. Lock the doors. Don't talk to anyone.””
Linda shook her head.
I said, “You don't get to give me orders.””
“I'm trying to protect you.””
“You forged my power of attorney.””
“I didn't.””
“You submitted construction plans.””
“I was trying to protect the trust.””
“You lied to the police.””
“I panicked.””
“And now someone is stealing my husband's documents.””
“I know.””
That stopped me.
“You know?””
Sarah's breathing changed.
“Mom…”
“Tell me the truth.””
“I can't.””
“Then we're done.””
I hung up.
Linda stared at me.
“You believe her?””
“I don't know what I believe.””
We returned to the locker.
The wooden trunk was still there.
I checked beneath the lining.
Nothing.
Then Linda noticed a small brass latch beneath the bottom shelf.
“Claire.””
She pointed.
I knelt.
The latch opened a hidden compartment.
Inside was a digital voice recorder.
My hands trembled as I picked it up.
A piece of masking tape was wrapped around it.
*For Claire.*
I pressed play.
Static filled the locker.
Then my husband's voice came through.
“If you're hearing this, something has happened.””
I stopped breathing.
His voice sounded exactly as I remembered it.
Tired.
Warm.
Alive.
He continued.
“I need you to know that I never gave Sarah ownership of the cottage. I never intended to.””
I closed my eyes.
Linda put a hand over her mouth.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
“Sarah doesn't know the entire story.””
The recording crackled.
“She thinks the cottage is the valuable part.””
I opened my eyes.
My husband's voice became quieter.
“But the cottage isn't what she's after.””
The recording stopped.
I pressed the button again.
Nothing.
“That's it?”” Linda asked.
I nodded.
My husband had left me a warning.
But not the answer.
We drove back toward town.
Neither of us spoke.
Then my phone buzzed.
An email had arrived.
No subject.
One attachment.
A photograph.
I opened it.
It showed my cottage from across the street.
Taken that morning.
The second photograph showed me standing outside the storage locker.
The third showed Linda.
Underneath the pictures were six words:
*Stop looking, or you'll lose everything.*
I stared at the screen.
Linda leaned closer.
“Claire…”
Another message arrived.
May you like
This time, it contained only a name.
*Greg.*
