Chương 7
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
Marcus gave a tired breath.
“I understand why you do not trust me.”
Rachel looked at him.
“You do not get to act like the victim.”
Marcus ignored her.
“Claire made mistakes.”
Daniel felt his attention sharpen.
“What mistakes?”
Marcus looked at him.
“The kind people make when they think they are protecting someone.”
“Protecting who?”
Marcus did not answer.
That silence told Daniel more than any confession could have.
Rachel stepped closer.
“You cannot rewrite this.”
“I am not.”
“You always do.”
Marcus’s expression changed slightly.
The first crack.
Not weakness.
Something closer to regret.
Daniel noticed it because he had spent months watching Claire hide things behind similar expressions.
People did not always look guilty when they were hiding something.
Sometimes they looked tired.
“You two know each other,” Daniel said.
Marcus looked at Rachel.
“Yes.”
“How?”
Rachel answered before he could.
“We worked together.”
“At Westbridge?”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked at Marcus.
“And you were her boss?”
Marcus did not deny it.
“I founded the company.”
“Then why did Claire never mention you?”
Marcus looked away for a second.
A small movement.
But Daniel caught it.
“Because she knew better.”
Rachel’s voice was cold.
Daniel turned toward her.
“What does that mean?”
Rachel looked at Marcus.
“It means Claire spent years believing people could change.”
Marcus shook his head.
“She spent years believing she could fix things that were not hers to fix.”
The words bothered Daniel because they sounded personal.
Not like a business disagreement.
Like a judgment from someone who had watched Claire struggle.
Daniel looked toward the stairs.
His mind returned to the letter.
If Rachel was telling the truth, Claire had been afraid.
If Marcus was telling the truth, Claire had been investigating something.
Neither explanation answered the question that mattered.
Where was his wife?
“Tell me where she went,” Daniel said.
Marcus looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
Daniel’s patience disappeared.
“You and Rachel should start a club.”
Marcus almost smiled.
Almost.
Then it vanished.
“I know where she was supposed to go.”
“Where?”
“She never made it there.”
Daniel felt the room become still.
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone intercepted her.”
Rachel looked at Marcus.
“You do not know that.”
“I know enough.”
“You think you know enough.”
Marcus ignored her.
“Claire was supposed to meet someone three nights ago.”
“Who?”
Marcus hesitated.
Daniel noticed.
The hesitation was different from Rachel’s.
Rachel hesitated because she was afraid of causing damage.
Marcus hesitated because he was deciding how much information to reveal.
“Who?” Daniel repeated.
Marcus looked at him.
“An investigator.”
“About Westbridge?”
“Yes.”
Daniel felt the pieces moving.
Not connecting.
Moving.
A person could be surrounded by facts and still understand nothing.
“What investigator?”
Marcus reached into his coat pocket.
Rachel immediately reacted.
“Don’t.”
Marcus stopped.
Daniel watched him.
“What?”
Marcus slowly removed a phone.
Not his.
An older device.
He held it out.
“Claire left this.”
Daniel did not take it.
“Where?”
“In my office.”
Rachel stared at him.
“You had her phone?”
“I found it after she disappeared.”
“And you did not tell anyone?”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“I was trying to determine whether it was safe.”
Rachel laughed once.
A sharp, bitter sound.
“You always say that.”
Daniel looked at the phone.
“Why would Claire leave her phone in your office?”
Marcus did not answer.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Why?”
“Because she went there to confront me.”
The answer landed harder than expected.
“About what?”
Marcus looked at the device.
“About the reason people were leaving Westbridge.”
Rachel shook her head.
“No.”
Marcus looked at her.
“She found the records.”
Daniel noticed Rachel’s expression change.
Not surprise.
Fear.
Real fear.
“What records?” Daniel asked.
Marcus looked toward the windows.
“The ones showing money moved through accounts that were supposed to be closed.”
Daniel frowned.
“I do not understand.”
“You are not supposed to.”
Marcus handed him the phone.
Daniel took it.
The device was old.
Scratched.
The screen had a crack across one corner.
Claire’s kind of thing.
She hated replacing anything that still worked.
He pressed the power button.
Nothing happened.
“Dead.”
Marcus nodded.
“Claire knew that.”
“What?”
“She removed the battery before she left.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because she did not want anyone tracking it.”
The answer created another question immediately.
“Who could track it?”
Marcus did not respond.
Daniel looked at Rachel.
She looked away.
That was enough.
“You both know.”
Neither of them spoke.
Daniel felt something inside him finally break.
Not emotionally.
Something more practical.
The belief that there was a version of this where everyone could explain themselves and he could return to the life he had before that morning.
That version was gone.
He held the phone.
“My wife disappeared.”
Nobody corrected him.
Nobody softened it.
The word stayed there.
Disappeared.
Marcus stepped closer.
“There is something else you need to know.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What?”
Marcus reached into his pocket again.
This time he removed a folded piece of paper.
“I found this with the phone.”
Daniel did not take it immediately.
“What is it?”
Marcus looked at Rachel.
Then back at Daniel.
“A list.”
“Of what?”
“Names.”
Daniel took the paper.
It was a handwritten list.
Several names.
Dates beside them.
Some crossed out.
Some circled.
At the bottom was one name Daniel recognized.
Claire Mercer.
His own name was written beneath hers.
The room seemed to tilt slightly.
Rachel moved closer.
“Daniel.”
He looked up.
“Why is my name on this?”
Nobody answered.
And that was when Daniel understood the thing that frightened him most.
The danger was not that Claire had hidden something from him.
The danger was that someone had known enough about his life to make him part of it.
Daniel kept staring at his name on the page as if looking long enough might change the letters.
It did not.
The ink remained dark and deliberate.
Claire Mercer.
May you like
Daniel Mercer.
Two names written together by someone who had no reason to know how deeply those names were connected.
