Chương 9
Daniel looked at the page again.
Thomas’s handwriting.
His signature.
The date.
“What did he say in the interview?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“The file was incomplete.”
“Of course it was.”
“Daniel.”
“No, every time we get close to something, there’s another missing piece.”
“That’s because someone removed pieces.”
The sentence stayed between them.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
He almost ended the call.
Then Rebecca said something that stopped him.
“I think the person who removed them wanted you to find this.”
Daniel looked at the envelope.
“What?”
“Think about it.”
“I am.”
“No, really think.”
Her voice slowed.
“If someone wanted to erase evidence, they would destroy the entire report.”
Daniel looked down.
“They wouldn’t leave my signature.”
“Exactly.”
A cold feeling moved through him.
Someone had not just hidden information.
Someone had arranged for him to discover that information.
“Why?”
Rebecca did not answer immediately.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“I’m trying to choose the right words.”
“That usually means you already know the wrong ones.”
Rebecca was quiet.
Then she said, “I think Claire was investigating something before she disappeared.”
Daniel stopped.
“What?”
“There are notes in the file.”
“About what?”
“Money transfers.”
Daniel frowned.
“From where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Rebecca.”
“I said I don’t know.”
The frustration in her voice sounded real.
That bothered him.
He had spent so long looking for deception that honesty had started feeling suspicious too.
“Did Claire know Thomas was involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Thomas know she was investigating?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel rubbed his face.
The same phrase.
Over and over.
But now it was not a shield.
It was a wall.
A wall everyone was standing in front of.
“Where is Thomas now?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Daniel.”
“Where?”
“He moved.”
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
“To where?”
“Arizona.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Because you stopped asking about him.”
The words were quiet.
They hurt because they were true.
After the first few years, Daniel had focused on finding Claire.
He had stopped chasing every person connected to her.
Not because he stopped caring.
Because caring had become exhausting.
He had learned that grief could turn into a job with no retirement date.
“I’m going to talk to him,” Daniel said.
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Daniel looked at the phone.
“No?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if he is involved, he has had eight years to prepare.”
“And if he isn’t?”
“Then you still need to know what you’re walking into.”
Daniel looked toward the stairs.
Ethan’s bedroom light was on.
A thin line of yellow showed beneath the door.
His son was awake.
Waiting.
“I can’t keep sitting here,” Daniel said.
“I know.”
The softness of her response surprised him.
“I know you can’t.”
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then Rebecca said, “Meet me tomorrow morning.”
Daniel looked at the documents.
“Where?”
“The old station.”
“You still have access?”
“No.”
“Then why there?”
“Because that’s where Claire’s first interview was stored.”
Daniel felt his grip tighten around the phone.
“Rebecca.”
“I found something else.”
“What?”
A pause.
“One page was missing from the report.”
Daniel waited.
“It wasn’t removed.”
“Then where was it?”
Rebecca’s voice dropped.
“It was never attached.”
Daniel looked at the signature again.
His own name stared back at him.
“What was on it?”
“I don’t know.”
The answer sounded different this time.
Not like uncertainty.
Like fear.
“Then why are you calling me there?”
“Because the person who found it left a note.”
Daniel did not speak.
Rebecca continued.
“The note had your name on it.”
The house suddenly felt too quiet.
“What did it say?”
Another pause.
Then:
“Ask Daniel why he stopped looking.”
Daniel did not sleep.
He sat at the kitchen table until the sky outside the windows changed from black to a thin gray that made the neighborhood look unfinished.
The documents remained spread out in front of him.
The note from Rebecca stayed on his phone screen.
Ask Daniel why he stopped looking.
He had spent twelve years searching for Claire.
That was the part that made the sentence impossible.
He had searched hospitals.
He had searched records.
He had searched abandoned leads and forgotten witnesses.
He had driven through towns because someone remembered seeing a woman who looked like her.
He had followed rumors that collapsed within hours.
He had kept Claire’s old number active even after everyone told him it was pointless.
So why would someone ask why he stopped?
The answer came from a place he did not want to visit.
Not because it was hidden.
Because it was familiar.
The last year before he stopped searching had been the worst year of his life.
Not because he found nothing.
Because he found too much.
Every lead had started pointing in different directions.
Every person had a different version.
Claire had been secretive.
Claire had been afraid.
Claire had been planning to leave.
Claire had been investigating something.
Claire had been running from someone.
Eventually, every possibility began to feel like another way of losing her.
At some point, Daniel had stopped believing answers would bring her back.
He had mistaken exhaustion for acceptance.
The next morning, he arrived at the old station twenty minutes early.
The building had been mostly empty since the department moved to a newer facility across town.
The front entrance still worked, but the lobby smelled like dust and old paper.
A security guard looked up from behind the desk.
“You here for someone?”
“Rebecca Lawson.”
The guard checked a clipboard.
“She isn’t scheduled.”
Daniel looked around.
“She asked me to meet her here.”
The guard studied him.
“You family?”
Daniel hesitated.
“No.”
The guard waited.
Daniel looked away.
“Not exactly.”
The man nodded like he had heard stranger answers.
“You can wait over there.”
Daniel sat near the window.
A vending machine hummed beside him.
May you like
A printer somewhere in the back room made a mechanical noise every few minutes.
A woman walked through the lobby carrying a box of files and apologized when she almost bumped into him.
