Chương 11
Then Daniel said, “The notebooks are in Connecticut.”
I looked at him.
“That narrows it beautifully.”
“At an old house.”
“Whose?”
“My father’s.”
“Margaret sold their house after he died.”
“Not that one.”
I waited.
“He owned a cabin near Kent.”
“You have a cabin.”
“No.”
“Your father had one.”
“Yes.”
“And you never mentioned it.”
“No.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Do you have an entire second biography somewhere?”
His voice softened.
“Claire.”
“Where in the cabin?”
“Behind the stone fireplace.”
My irritation vanished.
“You’re telling me now.”
“Because if something happens to me—”
“Stop.”
He went quiet.
“Do not finish that sentence.”
He watched me.
I hated how frightened he looked.
Not for himself.
For me.
That did not repair anything.
But it mattered.
A phone rang outside the storage room.
Not mine.
Not Daniel’s.
We both froze.
The sound came from a metal shelving unit beside us.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Daniel stood.
“Don’t touch it.”
I already knew.
The ringing stopped.
A small black phone lay behind a stack of paper towels.
Identical to the one found in the coffin.
Its screen lit.
A message appeared.
THANK YOU, DANIEL.
Neither of us breathed.
Then a second message arrived.
KENT WAS THE LAST PLACE I NEEDED.
Daniel stared at the phone as if it had spoken with my father’s voice.
I did not move.
The message stayed on the screen for three seconds before the display dimmed.
“You said nobody could hear us,” I whispered.
“I said I hoped nobody could.”
“That is not what you said.”
“I know.”
His face had gone gray again.
I looked toward the storage-room door.
The basement beyond it was silent now.
Too silent.
No footsteps.
No radio chatter.
No shouting from upstairs.
“Don’t touch the phone.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“We need Ruiz.”
“Yes.”
Neither of us opened the door.
That was the first sensible decision we made together all day.
Daniel pointed toward the ceiling.
“If there’s a microphone in here, assume it’s still live.”
I nodded.
Then I said loudly, “The cabin isn’t in Kent.”
He looked at me.
I kept my face blank.
“It’s in New Milford.”
Daniel understood.
“Right.”
“My father used to fish there.”
“You don’t have a father who fishes.”
“I’m improvising.”
“You’re terrible at it.”
“Your turn.”
Daniel raised his voice slightly.
“The notebooks are actually in a bank box in Danbury.”
I winced.
“That was worse.”
“Under pressure.”
“You faked your death under pressure.”
“That had rehearsal.”
A floorboard creaked outside.
We both stopped.
Daniel moved in front of me.
I grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him sideways.
“Absolutely not.”
“What?”
“You are not becoming a human shield after everything else.”
“Claire.”
“If someone comes through that door, I’d prefer both of us have room to move.”
He looked at the metal shelving, the mop bucket, and the three-foot aisle between us.
“Room is optimistic.”
A knock sounded.
Three short taps.
Pause.
One.
Daniel went still.
Not our signal.
Someone else’s.
Then Ruiz said through the door, “Daniel, if you make me say the embarrassing thing you told me in the ambulance, I will.”
He closed his eyes.
“That’s her.”
I whispered, “What embarrassing thing?”
“Not now.”
“What thing?”
“Claire.”
Ruiz knocked again.
“You cried during Paddington Two.”
Daniel opened the door.
“That was manipulative.”
Ruiz entered with Harris behind her.
She had a cut across one knuckle and murder in her expression.
“I said I’d use it.”
“You promised confidentiality.”
“I’m not your therapist.”
She saw the phone.
Her irritation vanished.
“Everybody out.”
Harris stepped toward it.
Ruiz stopped him.
“No.”
He froze.
She looked at me.
“Did either of you touch it?”
“No.”
“Read the screen?”
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
I told her.
Harris swore.
Ruiz did not.
That worried me more.
She backed us into the hallway and called for an evidence technician.
Daniel said, “The room was bugged.”
“Apparently.”
“You swept the building.”
“We swept the public spaces and the room downstairs.”
“Not this one.”
“Thank you, Daniel.”
He shut up.
I said, “The messages came immediately after he said Kent.”
Ruiz looked at him.
“Exactly what did you say?”
Daniel repeated it.
Her jaw tightened.
“And you said location details aloud after discovering a planted phone upstairs.”
He looked tired enough to be twelve.
“It was a bad decision.”
“That’s generous.”
I said, “He was scared.”
Ruiz looked at me.
So did Daniel.
I immediately regretted defending him.
“I am not forgiving anything.”
“Nobody said you were.”
“Good.”
Ruiz turned to Harris.
“Get technical down here and lock the chapel completely.”
He nodded.
“And Harris.”
He stopped.
“Where were you when the lights went out?”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
“Front corridor.”
“With who?”
“Officer Mendez.”
“Confirm it.”
A shadow crossed his face.
“You think I’m the leak.”
“I think everyone gets verified.”
“Including you?”
Ruiz held his gaze.
“Including me.”
Harris nodded once and left.
Daniel waited until he was gone.
“You don’t trust him.”
“I trust evidence.”
“That sounded like Claire.”
Ruiz ignored him.
I did not.
“Don’t use me to flirt with competent thinking.”
He looked almost offended.
“I wasn’t flirting.”
“With thinking.”
“Oh.”
Ruiz pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I preferred you dead.”
“Several relatives agree.”
She looked at him.
“That was a joke.”
“I know.”
“It didn’t sound like one.”
“It wasn’t a very good joke.”
For the first time since the chapel doors opened, I saw how exhausted she was.
There were deep lines around her mouth.
Her glasses hung crooked from her collar.
A dark stain marked one sleeve, possibly coffee and possibly something else.
She leaned against the wall.
“We have a problem.”
Daniel laughed quietly.
“A fresh one?”
“Yes.”
I waited.
“The man in the funeral-home jacket got out.”
“How?”
“Service entrance.”
“I thought the officers were covering exits.”
“They were.”
Daniel stared at her.
“Then someone let him through.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
May you like
I said, “Camera footage?”
“Power cut killed the local system.”
