Chapter 4
I stared at Detective Reed.
“That’s impossible.”
“I wish it were.”
“Jason is thirty-eight.”
“The dead man would be thirty-eight.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Reed lowered his voice.
“His name was Michael Trent.”
Chloe immediately looked at me.
“That’s the name.”
My stomach twisted.
“The woman called Dad Michael.”
Reed nodded.
“Michael Trent disappeared after a house fire in Ohio twelve years ago. Authorities believed he died inside.”
“Believed?”
“Remains were found.”
“Then Jason can’t be Michael.”
“We don’t know yet.”
I looked through the hospital room window toward Noah.
His tiny body lay beneath a white blanket.
Machines surrounded him.
My son had been injured by a man whose name might not even be real.
My marriage suddenly felt like a story someone else had told me.
A fake name.
Fake history.
Fake explanations.
I thought of all the things Jason had avoided.
High school reunions.
Old friends.
Family photographs.
He claimed his parents died when he was young.
He had no siblings.
No childhood friends.
No hometown he wanted to visit.
I once told him it made me sad that Chloe would never know her paternal grandparents.
He kissed my forehead.
“We have everything we need right here.”
At the time, it sounded romantic.
Now it sounded like a warning.
“Who died in that fire?” I asked.
Reed hesitated.
“A woman.”
“Who?”
“Michael Trent’s wife.”
My mouth opened.
I couldn’t speak.
“And their infant son.”
The floor seemed to disappear.
“No.”
Chloe squeezed my hand.
“Mom?”
I forced air into my lungs.
“Was Michael suspected?”
“The fire was ruled accidental.”
“Then why are you telling me this?”
“Because the circumstances now matter.”
I understood.
A wife.
A baby.
A fire.
Then a new identity.
A new wife.
A new baby.
“What was his wife’s name?”
“Rebecca.”
“Did they have other children?”
Reed looked down at his notes.
“A daughter.”
My heart pounded.
“How old?”
“Three at the time.”
“What happened to her?”
“She survived. She wasn’t home.”
“Where is she now?”
“We don’t know.”
My phone buzzed again.
Another message.
THIS IS HAPPENING AGAIN.
I showed Reed.
He immediately requested a trace.
“Whoever is sending these knows about Rebecca,” I said.
“Possibly.”
“Miranda?”
“Possibly.”
“Then find her.”
“We are.”
I hated that answer.
Police language.
Careful.
Controlled.
While my entire life was burning down.
A nurse entered.
“Mrs. Harper, Noah is awake.”
Everything else disappeared.
I went to him.
His eyes opened slowly.
He made a soft sound.
I reached through the rails.
“Mommy’s here.”
His fingers curled around mine.
I cried so hard I had to cover my mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
The nurse stood beside me.
“He needs quiet.”
“I know.”
I bent and kissed his hand.
“I’m not leaving you again.”
Chloe stepped beside me.
“Hey, Noah.”
Her voice cracked.
He turned his eyes toward her.
She smiled through tears.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell Mom sooner.”
“Chloe,” I whispered.
She looked at me.
“This isn’t your fault.”
“But I knew.”
“You are nine.”
“I should have—”
“No.”
I took her face in my hands.
“You protected him. You protected me. You did something many adults would be too afraid to do.”
Her lower lip trembled.
“Dad said nobody would believe me.”
“I believe you.”
A social worker arrived.
Then another detective.
Then a child advocate.
Questions began.
We answered what we could.
Late that evening, Reed returned.
He looked exhausted.
“Can we talk privately?”
I asked Chloe to stay with Noah.
Then Reed and I stepped into the hallway.
“We found the black box.”
“You told me.”
“We also found documents you need to know about.”
“What documents?”
“A life insurance policy.”
I frowned.
“On me?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Two million dollars.”
I stared at him.
“That’s wrong.”
“You didn’t know?”
“No. I have life insurance through work. Two hundred thousand.”
“This policy was purchased eighteen months ago.”
“By Jason?”
“Your signature is on it.”
“I never signed anything.”
“We expected you’d say that.”
“Why?”
“Because the signature appears to have been copied.”
My stomach tightened.
“Copied from what?”
“Mortgage documents.”
I leaned against the wall.
Reed continued.
“There’s another policy.”
My eyes lifted.
“On Noah?”
“No.”
“Chloe?”
“Yes.”
I stopped breathing.
“How much?”
“Five hundred thousand dollars.”
“No.”
“Emily—”
“No.”
I walked away three steps and turned back.
“He was planning to hurt Chloe too?”
“We don’t know that.”
“You just told me there is a half-million-dollar policy on my nine-year-old daughter that I didn’t know existed.”
“I’m telling you we need evidence before deciding what Jason intended.”
I laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“Evidence? My baby is in a hospital bed.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know.”
He let the anger pass.
Then said, “There’s more.”
I almost didn’t want to hear it.
“What?”
“Beneficiary isn’t Jason Harper.”
I stared.
“Who is it?”
“Michael Trent.”
My skin went cold.
“He signed his real name?”
“Possibly.”
“That’s insane.”
“Or intentional.”
“Why?”
“We’re trying to determine that.”
Reed handed me a photocopy.
At the bottom of the policy, beneath the beneficiary section, were two words.
Michael Trent.
I stared until the letters blurred.
Then something occurred to me.
“If Jason is Michael, why expose that name?”
“Maybe he never expected anyone else to see the policy.”
“Or maybe someone else filled it out.”
“That’s possible.”
“Miranda.”
Reed said nothing.
I looked at him.
“You know who she is, don’t you?”
“We found a Miranda Cole connected to Hollis Development.”
“And?”
“She disappeared this afternoon.”
My heart sank.
“Disappeared?”
“Her apartment is empty.”
“When?”
“Neighbors saw her leaving with two suitcases approximately one hour before police were called to your home.”
“She knew.”
“It appears she knew something was about to happen.”
My phone buzzed again.
Reed reached for it before I did.
Another unknown message.
CHECK YOUR FATHER’S WILL.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“What does my father have to do with this?”
Reed looked at me.
“How much did he leave you?”
“A little over eight hundred thousand.”
“Is all of it still yours?”
“Yes.”
“Any conditions?”
I hesitated.
“There’s a clause.”
“What clause?”
“If I die before Chloe turns eighteen, control of the trust goes to my husband as guardian of my children.”
Reed went very still.
“And if both children die?”
My throat tightened.
“Then the remaining money goes to my spouse.”
Neither of us spoke.
The hallway suddenly felt freezing.
Jason did not need to steal my inheritance.
He only needed me dead.
Then he needed the children gone.
Reed’s phone rang.
He answered.
I watched his face.
His eyes shifted toward me.
“When?”
He listened.
“Get units there now.”
He hung up.
“What?”
“Your father’s former attorney called police.”
“Mr. Sanders?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He received an email tonight.”
“From who?”
“Your father.”
I stared at him.
“My father has been dead for four years.”
“I know.”
“That’s impossible.”
“The email was scheduled.”
“For four years?”
“Apparently.”
“What did it say?”
Reed took a breath.
“It said that if anything happened to you or your children, Mr. Sanders should open a sealed envelope your father left in his office safe.”
My hands went numb.
“Did he open it?”
“Yes.”
“What was inside?”
“A photograph.”
“Of who?”
Reed looked me directly in the eyes.
“Jason.”
My chest tightened.
“Why would my father have a photograph of Jason?”
“Because it was taken before you met him.”
I couldn’t speak.
May you like
Reed continued.
“Your father knew your husband wasn’t who he said he was.”
