Chương 3
“Yes.”
“Why were you looking?”
Claire hesitated.
That hesitation mattered.
Daniel noticed.
“What?”
“I wasn’t looking for this.”
“For what, then?”
She rubbed her thumb against the side of the cup.
“Her insurance paperwork.”
That was such a normal answer it almost made him angry.
“You found Dad’s box while looking for insurance paperwork?”
“Yes.”
“And then you just kept it?”
“I didn’t just keep it.”
“Claire.”
Her eyes hardened slightly.
A small flash of the older sister who used to tell him when he was being unfair.
“I took it because Mom would have thrown it away.”
Daniel stopped.
That was not the answer he expected.
“You think she would?”
“I know she would.”
Claire finally sat down.
The coffee cup stayed untouched on the table.
“Six months before Dad disappeared, Mom found out about the company investigation. She thought he was stealing from them.”
“Was he?”
Claire looked at the report.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a terrible answer.”
“It’s the only honest one.”
Daniel walked to the sink and picked up a glass.
He filled it with water even though he was not thirsty.
Claire watched him.
“You still do that.”
“What?”
“Wash things when you’re angry.”
He put the glass down.
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
The familiarity of it irritated him more than the argument.
She still knew him.
After years of barely speaking, she could still point out the things he did without noticing.
“I talked to Dad,” Claire said.
Daniel froze.
The glass remained in his hand.
“When?”
“Two weeks before he disappeared.”
The room changed.
Not dramatically.
Nothing fell.
Nothing broke.
But something moved.
“You talked to him?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Claire looked at the floor.
“Because he asked me not to.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You listened to him?”
“I was eighteen.”
“You were old enough to know better.”
“And you were nineteen and angry enough not to listen.”
The sentence hit too close.
Daniel put the glass down.
“You don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make it my fault.”
Claire looked tired.
Not defensive.
Tired.
“I’m not.”
“Sounds like you are.”
“I’m saying Dad knew you were done with him.”
Daniel looked at the folder.
A memory came back without warning.
The dorm room.
The cheap desk.
The phone vibrating beside his textbooks.
Michael Mercer.
Daniel had watched the name appear.
He had let it ring.
Then he had turned the phone face down.
At the time, it felt like protecting himself.
Now the memory felt incomplete.
“What did he say to you?” Daniel asked.
Claire was quiet for a moment.
“He said he didn’t steal anything.”
Daniel looked up.
“Did you believe him?”
“I believed he believed it.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
Claire leaned back.
“He said there were missing records, but they weren’t because he took money. He said someone was changing numbers before he could prove it.”
Daniel looked at the report again.
“And you believed that?”
“I believed he was scared.”
“That’s not proof.”
“No.”
The honesty stopped him.
Claire did not fight for her version.
She did not try to convince him.
She just sat there with the weight of something she had carried alone.
“Why hide this from me?” Daniel asked.
Her answer came slowly.
“Because after Dad disappeared, you needed him to be guilty.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“That’s not fair.”
“No.”
Claire looked at him.
“But it’s true.”
Daniel wanted to argue.
Instead, he looked at the report.
Because a small part of him hated that she had said something he could not immediately dismiss.
The anger was still there.
So was the hurt.
But underneath both was something worse.
Doubt.
His phone buzzed on the counter.
Both of them looked.
A message from an unknown number.
Daniel picked it up.
The text contained only one sentence.
Stop looking into Michael Mercer if you want to know what happened to him.
Below it was a photograph.
A picture of the folder sitting on Daniel’s kitchen table.
Taken from inside his apartment.
Claire stood up.
The coffee cup tipped slightly in her hand, but she caught it before it fell.
For the first time since she arrived, she looked afraid.
Daniel stared at the image.
The question was no longer whether his father had been telling the truth.
Someone had been watching him.
And they knew exactly what he had found.
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
The message remained open on Daniel’s phone, bright against the dim kitchen light, like a small piece of evidence that could not be explained away.
Claire reached for the phone, then stopped before touching it.
“Did you send this to anyone?”
Daniel looked at her.
“No.”
“Did you take a picture of the report?”
“No.”
“Did you upload anything?”
“No.”
She nodded slowly, but the movement did not bring relief.
It only confirmed something neither of them wanted to say.
Whoever sent the message had access before they did.
Daniel placed the phone on the table.
The photograph showed the folder exactly where it sat now, beside the report, beside the coffee cup Claire had brought in from outside.
The angle was wrong for someone standing in the doorway.
The person had been inside the apartment.
“I’m calling the police,” Claire said.
Daniel almost laughed again, but there was nothing funny about it.
“Based on what?”
“Someone broke into your apartment.”
“Without taking anything.”
“They took a picture.”
“That proves they were here.”
“It proves someone took a picture.”
He looked at her.
“You hear yourself, right?”
Claire looked away.
“I’m trying to think.”
“That’s what you said when you kept the report for three years.”
The words came out sharper than he intended.
Claire absorbed them anyway.
She had always been good at absorbing things.
That was part of what made him angry.
She collected everyone else’s pain and acted surprised when it became too heavy.
“I deserve that,” she said.
May you like
Daniel did not expect that.
He had prepared himself for an argument.
