Chương 8
Bluebird appeared seventeen times.
So much for the secret circle.
He almost laughed.
Detective stories made clues look clean.
Real life left fingerprints everywhere.
At 8:12, an email arrived.
From Martin.
No subject.
Daniel opened it.
There were only three sentences.
I did not hire the woman.
Victoria knows who did.
Ask her why Rachel stopped trusting her.
Daniel read it twice.
Then forwarded it to Ruiz.
Only afterward did he call Victoria.
She answered immediately.
“Did Martin contact you?”
Daniel went still.
“How did you know?”
“He contacted me too.”
“What did he say?”
“That you would call.”
Daniel walked to the kitchen window.
“Why did Rachel stop trusting you?”
Victoria was silent.
“Answer me.”
“She didn’t.”
“He says she did.”
“Martin says many things.”
“Rachel hid the memory card in a place you apparently didn’t know.”
“I knew about the card.”
Daniel stopped.
“What?”
“I helped her make it.”
“Then why leave it in my safe?”
“I didn’t.”
“Who did?”
“Rachel.”
“She was in the hospital.”
“You brought the safe box to her.”
Daniel remembered.
A small fireproof document case.
Rachel had asked him to bring it because she wanted to organize insurance papers.
He had complained about carrying it through the hospital.
She had called him delicate.
He had forgotten.
Victoria said, “She put the key inside.”
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because she asked me not to.”
Daniel laughed without humor.
“You’re loyal to dead people in interesting ways.”
“That’s fair.”
“Why did she stop meeting Martin?”
“Because he threatened to expose everything publicly if she wouldn’t give him the originals.”
“Did he threaten her?”
“Not physically.”
“Did you?”
Victoria went quiet.
Daniel felt something shift.
“Did you threaten Rachel?”
“No.”
“That took too long.”
“I told her what would happen if she released unverified documents.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It was advice.”
“From the woman who controlled my company.”
“Yes.”
“Who knew my mother.”
“Yes.”
“Who knew my father.”
“Yes.”
“Who knew Martin.”
“Yes.”
“Do you hear how this sounds?”
“Every day.”
Daniel pressed his forehead against the cool window.
“Where are the originals?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who does?”
“Possibly Melissa.”
Daniel straightened.
“My sister-in-law?”
“Rachel trusted her.”
“Melissa says she knows nothing.”
“Then either Rachel never told her or Melissa is lying.”
Daniel ended the call.
He drove to Melissa’s house.
Sophie was asleep upstairs.
Melissa opened the door wearing sweatpants and holding a mug.
“You look worse.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Maybe listen.”
“Did Rachel give you anything before she died?”
Melissa’s expression changed.
That was enough.
Daniel entered.
“Where is it?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Where?”
“Kitchen.”
She walked past him.
Daniel followed.
Melissa opened a drawer beneath a pile of takeout menus and pulled out a small envelope.
Daniel stared.
“You kept it in the junk drawer?”
“It was in my safe.”
“You have a safe?”
“No.”
“Then why did you say—”
“Because ‘junk drawer’ sounds irresponsible.”
“It is irresponsible.”
“So was marrying you, but Rachel did that too.”
Daniel almost shouted.
Instead he laughed.
One ugly, exhausted laugh.
Melissa did too.
Then neither of them did.
She placed the envelope on the table.
“Rachel told me to give this to you if someone named Martin ever came back.”
Daniel looked at her.
“You knew his name?”
“Yes.”
“For fourteen months?”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“She made me promise.”
“Everyone made promises to my wife except me.”
Melissa’s face hardened.
“Don't make this about you.”
“My daughter was abducted.”
“She wasn’t abducted.”
“She was lured into a garage and chained to a cart.”
“By Victoria, who apparently stopped her from getting into a stranger’s car.”
“You’re defending Victoria now?”
“I’m defending accuracy.”
That was Rachel’s phrase.
Daniel hated hearing it from her sister.
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a storage-unit receipt.
A facility in Towson.
Unit 214.
Paid through the end of the year.
The account holder was Melissa.
Daniel stared at her.
“You rented it?”
“Rachel asked me to.”
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never looked?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she asked me not to.”
“You people are unbelievable.”
Melissa slammed her mug down.
“No, Daniel. You are.”
He stared at her.
“She was dying. She was trying to protect you, Sophie, the company, me, herself—everybody. And you were walking around that hospital acting like if you could just get the right specialist and the right trial and the right meal into her, she wouldn’t die.”
Daniel’s mouth opened.
Nothing came.
Melissa’s eyes filled.
She wiped them angrily.
“She couldn't talk to you about your father because you were already bargaining with God over her.”
“Don't.”
“You want the truth now? Fine. You weren’t available for it then.”
Daniel looked toward the ceiling.
Sophie was asleep somewhere above them.
He lowered his voice.
“I was taking care of my wife.”
“I know.”
“You make that sound like a crime.”
“It wasn't.”
“Then stop.”
Melissa looked at him for a long time.
“I’m sorry.”
He hated the apology more than the accusation.
He sat at the kitchen table.
The storage receipt lay between them.
“Did Rachel trust Victoria?”
Melissa took a breath.
“Sometimes.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
“Did she think Victoria was involved in what Jack did?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she think Martin was dangerous?”
“Yes.”
“How dangerous?”
“She told me never to let him near Sophie.”
Daniel looked at the receipt.
“Why?”
“She said he was obsessed with the Carters.”
“Did he ever threaten Sophie?”
“Not that she told me.”
“Then why specifically Sophie?”
Melissa looked uncomfortable.
“Because Sophie was Jack’s granddaughter.”
Daniel felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know more.”
“No.”
“Melissa.”
“I don’t.”
She sat opposite him.
“Rachel said Martin had spent years telling himself Jack ruined his life. She was afraid he’d stopped seeing people as individuals. You weren’t Daniel. You were Jack’s son. Sophie wasn’t Sophie. She was Jack’s granddaughter.”
May you like
Daniel remembered Martin in the garage.
You’re a better father than Jack was.
