Chapter 8: The Missing Man
By six that evening, the investigation had changed direction.
Marcus Bell, the registered manager of Northstar Risk Solutions, had disappeared from his apartment. His car remained in the parking lot, his wallet was on the kitchen counter, and his neighbor had last seen him leaving with a small overnight bag.
Detective Harris believed he might have known that the house had been searched.
My father stood beside the hotel window while Harris explained the latest developments over a secure call.
“Have you checked his financial records?”” Dad asked.
“We're working with the relevant institutions. So far, we have evidence of payments between accounts associated with Northstar and entities connected to Daniel. We need more documentation before we can establish the purpose of every transfer.””
“What about the threatening message sent to Olivia?””
“We're preserving it and pursuing the available leads. We can't yet establish who sent it.””
I sat at the table, listening.
“Detective,” I said, “what does 'what happened there' mean? What could have happened at that house?””
Harris paused.
“We don't know, Olivia. That's why we're investigating it. I don't want you imagining the worst when we haven't established the facts.””
I appreciated his honesty, even though it gave me no comfort.
After the call, my father ordered dinner. Neither of us ate much.
At eight thirty, Eleanor Price arrived carrying a tablet and a stack of printed records.
“I've been reviewing the corporate filings and the documents from the house,” she said.
“There's a possible explanation for some of the financial activity, although the investigators will need to verify it.””
She placed a diagram on the table.
“Northstar appears to have been used as an intermediary for payments involving several businesses. Some transactions may have been legitimate consulting fees. Others raise serious questions because the supporting contracts appear incomplete or inconsistent.””
I traced the lines connecting Daniel, Marcus, and the company.
“And my savings?””
“The attempted credit facility may have been intended to provide additional liquidity. We need the bank's complete records to determine whether any funds were actually advanced.””
“Could they have taken the money without my knowledge?””
“Someone may have attempted to misuse your information, but the bank's review is ongoing. We'll work to establish what happened and protect your accounts.””
I stared at the diagram.
“Why would Daniel risk everything for $75,000?””
Eleanor sat opposite me.
“Sometimes the amount visible in one transaction is only a piece of a larger arrangement. We don't yet know whether the insurance policy, the credit application, and the contractor payments were all part of one plan.””
My father tapped the photograph of the clinic.
“That's what concerns me most. Someone was tracking her.””
Eleanor nodded.
“I agree. We should also review who had access to Olivia's medical information, appointment schedule, and personal documents. But we shouldn't assume the clinic was involved simply because the photograph was taken nearby.””
I remembered Daniel asking about my appointment.
How did the doctor say you were doing?
I'd told him everything.
He'd kissed my forehead and said he was glad I was healthy.
Now the memory made my skin crawl.
“I'm changing every password,” I said.
“Good,” Eleanor replied.
“Use a device Daniel hasn't accessed, enable multifactor authentication, and contact your bank directly using verified contact details. We should also secure your email and credit reports.””
My father nodded.
“We'll handle the practical steps tomorrow morning.””
“No,” I said.
“Tonight.””
They both looked at me.
“I don't want another night of someone having access to my life because I assumed they wouldn't misuse it.””
Eleanor gave a small approving nod.
“Then tonight we start.””
For the next hour, we worked through the list. I secured my email, changed my passwords, and contacted the bank's fraud department. The bank placed additional protections on my accounts and arranged for a specialist to review the suspicious application.
It was the first thing I'd done since the attack that made me feel even slightly in control.
Then, at ten twelve, Detective Harris called again.
“We've located a witness who may have information about Marcus Bell.””
“Who?””
“A woman who worked as a temporary bookkeeper for Northstar. Her name is Rachel Moore. She contacted our office after seeing the news of the investigation.””
“Did she know Daniel?””
“She's met him several times. She says she handled some invoices for the company and became concerned about payments that didn't match the contracts.””
My father leaned closer to the phone.
“Does she know where Marcus went?””
“Not directly. But she remembers a meeting between Marcus, Daniel, and a woman she believes was Patricia Carter.””
I felt a surge of anger.
“Patricia was involved in the business, too?””
“We're trying to establish the extent of her involvement,” Harris said.
“Rachel has agreed to provide a statement tomorrow morning.””
“Can I speak to her?””
“Not yet. We need to take her statement first, and we don't want to compromise her recollection or the investigation.””
I reluctantly agreed.
After the call, Dad walked me to the bedroom.
“You need some sleep.””
“How can I sleep when I don't know what they're planning?””
“You don't have to solve everything tonight.””
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Daddy, what if Friday is still going to happen?””
“We'll work with the authorities to determine what the date means and whether any immediate danger remains.””
He pulled the blanket over my legs.
“I promise you this: nobody gets to make you face this alone.””
For the first time, I believed him without reservation.
I closed my eyes, but sleep came in short, uneasy fragments.
At 1:43 a.m., I woke to the sound of my temporary phone vibrating.
A new email had arrived from an unfamiliar address.
There was no greeting.
Only a photograph.
It showed Marcus Bell standing beside Daniel in front of the secret house. Both men were looking directly at the camera.
Beneath the photograph was a message.
*You have been asking the wrong question, Olivia. Marcus didn't choose Daniel. Daniel chose him.*
My pulse raced.
A second message appeared.
*Check the date on the photograph. Then ask your father what happened to the original owner of that house.*
I opened the image details.
The photograph had been taken four years earlier.
Three weeks before my wedding.
I stared at the screen, unable to breathe properly.
The house hadn't been sold before Daniel married me.
It had become the center of something before our marriage even began.
And whoever had sent the message knew my father.
I hurried into the sitting room, where Dad was still awake, speaking quietly with one of his investigators.
“Daddy,” I said, holding out the phone.
“Someone sent me this.””
He studied the photograph.
For the first time since he'd arrived at my house, he looked genuinely shaken.
“Where did you get this?””
“It came by email. Why? Do you recognize the house?””
He didn't answer.
Instead, he enlarged the photograph and examined the background.
Then he turned toward his investigator.
“Call Eleanor. Now.””
I grabbed his sleeve.
“Daddy, tell me what's going on.””
He looked at me, and I saw something in his eyes that frightened me more than his anger ever could.
Regret.
“Olivia,” he said slowly, “I think I know who originally owned that property.””
“Who?””
May you like
My father took a breath.
“Someone I believed had been dead for nearly five years.””
