Chương 4
Find the story that makes the most sense.
Move forward.
Except the easiest story had already failed.
Rachel had disappeared once.
Then again.
And both times, people had accepted explanations before asking who benefited from those explanations.
"Where was Marcus when Rachel first disappeared?" Claire asked.
Aaron frowned.
"At work, according to him."
"According to him."
"You think his alibi is fake?"
"I think we haven't checked enough because everyone wanted him to be the answer."
Aaron looked at her.
"That sounds personal."
Claire hated that he said it because it was true.
She looked toward Lily sitting in the patrol car.
The girl had her hands wrapped around the paper cup, watching adults talk around her as if she were furniture.
Claire had seen that before.
Children in houses where everyone had secrets learned to disappear without leaving.
"No," she said.
"It sounds like someone is trying very hard to make sure we stop looking."
Before Aaron could respond, his phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed after three seconds.
"What?"
Claire watched him listen.
Then his eyes moved toward the farmhouse.
"Who found it?"
A pause.
"Keep everyone away from that room."
He ended the call.
"What happened?"
Aaron hesitated.
"Someone broke into the evidence vehicle."
Claire felt her stomach tighten.
"The one outside the station?"
"Yes."
"What's missing?"
Aaron looked at the farmhouse.
"Rachel's original statement."
The words landed harder than they should have.
Because Claire knew what that meant.
Someone was not trying to hide the crime.
Someone was trying to control the version of the crime everyone believed.
"Who had access?" she asked.
Aaron shook his head.
"We're checking."
"No."
Claire looked at him.
"Start with who knew we had it."
Aaron did not move.
That was when she knew he was thinking the same thing she was.
Someone close.
Someone informed.
Someone comfortable enough to act while surrounded by police.
Claire walked back toward the farmhouse.
Aaron followed.
"You can't just assume everyone is compromised."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"No."
She stopped at the front steps.
"I'm assuming someone is."
The distinction mattered.
At least to her.
Inside the house, the search team had gathered near the upstairs hallway.
A young deputy stood beside a section of wall with a worried expression.
"What happened?" Claire asked.
The deputy pointed.
"The panel was open when Detective Ruiz came back."
Claire looked at Aaron.
He shook his head.
"I didn't open it."
The loose wooden panel was now hanging crookedly.
Behind it was a narrow space between the walls.
Old insulation.
Dust.
A few scraps of paper.
A place nobody would have looked unless they knew it existed.
Claire crouched.
"What was in here?"
Aaron answered.
"Rachel's notebook."
"Only the notebook?"
He looked uncomfortable.
"That's the problem."
Claire reached inside carefully.
Her fingers touched something.
She pulled out a small envelope.
No name.
No address.
Just a date written across the front.
Three years earlier.
The day Rachel Sloan married Marcus.
Claire looked at Aaron.
"This was hidden with the notebook?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't know it was there."
She believed him.
That scared her more.
She opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Marcus standing outside the Calloway farmhouse.
He was younger.
Maybe twenty years old.
Beside him stood another man Claire did not recognize.
The two men were looking toward the house.
Not smiling.
Not posing.
Waiting.
On the back of the photograph was a handwritten sentence.
You promised this would stay buried.
Claire stared at it.
The words were simple.
But they changed the shape of everything.
Marcus had not just known about the farmhouse.
He had been connected to it long before Rachel disappeared.
"Who is the other man?" Aaron asked.
Claire turned the photo over.
No name.
No clue.
Only the sentence.
"We need to find out."
Aaron nodded.
Then he stopped.
"Claire."
She looked at him.
His expression had changed.
Not suspicion.
Concern.
"Your phone."
She pulled it out.
The unknown number had sent another message.
This time there was a photo attached.
Claire opened it.
The image was blurry.
Taken from a distance.
It showed her standing outside the farmhouse with Lily.
The moment the girl had handed her the note.
Claire felt the muscles in her neck tighten.
The photograph had been taken after the police arrived.
Someone had been close enough to watch.
Close enough to know what happened.
"Nobody leaves," Claire said.
Aaron looked toward the windows.
"You think they're still here?"
"I think they want us to think they're not."
The officers began securing the property.
The neighbors were pushed farther back.
Marcus watched from behind the cruiser.
When Claire approached him, his expression changed.
He saw the photograph in her hand.
And for the first time since she met him, he looked genuinely afraid.
"Where did you get that?" he asked.
Claire noticed the question.
Not what is that.
Not why are you showing me.
Where did you get that.
"You recognize it."
Marcus looked away.
"Claire."
"Who is the man standing next to you?"
His silence answered before he did.
"I don't know."
She almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was the same answer everyone gave when the truth was too close.
"You were twenty years old."
Marcus looked back at her.
"How do you know that?"
Claire felt something shift.
A small movement.
A door opening.
The kind that could not be closed again.
"You tell me."
Marcus looked at the farmhouse.
Then at Lily.
His voice dropped.
"My father owned that property before the Calloways."
Claire waited.
Nobody had told her that.
Not the records.
Not the neighbors.
Not Marcus.
"Why didn't you say that?"
"Because I knew what you would think."
"Maybe because you knew what it meant."
Marcus's eyes hardened.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain."
He looked at the old house for a long moment.
May you like
When he spoke, the confidence was gone.
"My father wasn't the last person who lived there."
