Chương 12
“That sentence sounds almost human.”
Pike coughed to hide a laugh.
Shaw ignored both of us.
The phone on the tray vibrated again.
NO ONE LEAVES HARKER CLEAN.
Then another message.
DANIEL TRIED.
I stared at the words.
Noah said, “That sounds like someone who knows him.”
Pike nodded.
“Or someone who knows the story they want us to believe.”
The next message arrived before he finished.
ASK ABOUT LENA CROSS.
Shaw’s face changed.
Pike noticed.
“You know the name.”
Shaw did not answer quickly enough.
“Who is she?” I asked.
He looked toward Noah.
Noah sighed.
“If you tell me to leave again, I’m going to bite someone.”
Shaw said, “Lena Cross was a Harker employee.”
“When?”
“2008 to 2009.”
“What happened to her?”
“Officially?”
I hated the word.
“Yes.”
“She died.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Pike stared at him.
“You knew about this?”
“I knew the name from a background file.”
“You didn’t think it mattered?”
“Until thirty seconds ago, no.”
“What was unusual?”
Shaw looked down at his phone.
“Single-car collision.”
“Alcohol?”
“Reported.”
“Any connection to Daniel?”
“None documented.”
I asked, “What did she do at Harker?”
Shaw checked.
“Internal audit.”
The room went silent.
Compliance.
Internal audit.
2009.
Copies.
Noah said softly, “That feels connected.”
Pike nodded.
“It does.”
Shaw made another call.
This one lasted less than a minute.
When he hung up, he looked at me.
“We are requesting archived employment records, insurance records, and the original crash file.”
“From seventeen years ago?”
“Yes.”
“Will they still exist?”
“Some will.”
Pike said, “Some may not.”
Noah leaned his head back against the pillow.
“I officially hate records.”
I watched him for a moment.
His face had gone pale again.
“Are you dizzy?”
“A little.”
I stood and pressed the nurse call button.
“I’m fine.”
“You are not.”
“Neither are you.”
“That doesn’t make us even.”
A nurse came in, checked him, and adjusted the monitor.
She told him his blood pressure was dropping slightly but not dangerously.
Noah nodded like he was being given a grade.
When she left, he said, “Can we go somewhere with less fluorescent lighting when this is over?”
“Yes.”
“Like prison?”
I stared at him.
He shrugged.
“Probably warmer.”
I laughed.
It escaped before I could stop it.
The sound felt wrong and necessary.
Noah smiled weakly.
Then my phone vibrated again.
The laughter died.
DON’T TRUST ERIN.
Pike read it over my shoulder.
“Interesting.”
Shaw said, “Why?”
“Because they just threatened to kill her.”
“So?”
“So now they’re discrediting her.”
I looked at him.
“Meaning?”
“Whoever is sending these wants us emotionally invested in keeping her alive but suspicious of anything she says.”
Shaw nodded slowly.
“Control both directions.”
Noah said, “Or Erin sent them.”
Pike turned.
“What?”
“She was missing.”
“Yes.”
“She got taken from the ambulance.”
“Yes.”
“But what if she had someone helping her?”
Shaw studied him.
“Why would she?”
“I don’t know.”
Noah looked irritated.
“You adults keep saying everyone might be framing everyone else, but she’s the only person who knows what happened and is still alive besides Dad.”
Pike said, “That’s actually a reasonable point.”
Noah looked at me.
“Please write that down.”
I almost smiled again.
Shaw’s phone rang.
He answered immediately.
“Yes.”
He listened.
His expression changed.
“Where?”
Pike moved closer.
Shaw held up one finger.
“When did she regain consciousness?”
Another pause.
“Is she secure?”
His voice sharpened.
“Do not move her without an escort.”
He hung up.
“Erin was found.”
Relief hit me so hard I had to grip the bed rail.
“Where?”
“Behind a closed pharmacy about four miles from the abandoned ambulance.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Noah let out a breath.
“Is she hurt?”
“Disoriented, bruised, possibly sedated again.”
“Did she see who took her?”
“Unknown.”
Pike asked, “Where are they taking her?”
“Different hospital.”
“Good.”
I looked at Shaw.
“Can you talk to her?”
“When doctors allow it.”
“Will she know what happened in 2009?”
“We’ll ask.”
Another vibration.
My phone screen lit.
SHE WILL LIE.
Pike stared at it.
“Whoever this is knows she’s been recovered.”
Shaw looked toward the hallway.
“That information has not been released.”
“So they have eyes on the scene,” Pike said.
“Or access to dispatch.”
My chest tightened.
“Police?”
“Possibly.”
The word changed the room.
Pike’s face went flat.
Shaw immediately began typing.
Noah whispered, “That’s bad, right?”
“Yes,” I said.
Pike looked at the phone.
“Stop routing sensitive updates through standard channels.”
Shaw nodded.
“Already doing it.”
Pike said, “And we need to move Claire and Noah.”
“Agreed.”
I looked between them.
“Move us where?”
“A secure location.”
“No.”
Pike stared at me.
“Claire.”
“My sister.”
“Not safe.”
“You haven’t even checked her.”
“This isn’t about your sister being involved.”
“Then what?”
“Whoever is doing this knows your house, your son’s school, your phone number, your husband’s history, and operational details from an active police response.”
I looked at Noah.
His face had lost all color.
Pike softened his voice.
“We cannot leave you somewhere predictable.”
For once, I did not argue.
Shaw said, “We’ll arrange protection.”
Noah whispered, “Does Dad know where we’ll be?”
“No,” Pike said.
I turned to him.
“Can I see Daniel before we go?”
Shaw answered first.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s in custody and has counsel.”
“I’m not asking to interrogate him.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
Pike looked at Shaw.
“Maybe it does.”
Shaw’s expression sharpened.
“No.”
“Mercer drugged them because someone pressured him, and now an unknown sender is communicating through his identity.”
“That does not make a family visit appropriate.”
“I need to know one thing,” I said.
Both men looked at me.
“Whether Daniel knew about the photographs.”
Shaw said, “We can ask through counsel.”
“I need to see his face when I ask.”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“Then you can keep guessing.”
Shaw held my gaze.
Pike said quietly, “He may be right about procedure.”
I looked at him.
“You were the one who wanted my laptop.”
May you like
“That’s different.”
“Everything is different when you want it.”
