Chapter 3
I was in my car before Detective Torres finished shouting my name.
She caught the passenger door and yanked it open.
“You are not going alone.”
“My daughter is being watched.”
“I heard you.”
“Then get in.”
She did.
An unmarked police SUV followed us.
Torres called dispatch.
“Units to 418 Wilmore Avenue. Possible threat involving child victim from active felony investigation.”
I drove too fast.
Torres didn’t tell me to slow down.
“Your sister said the person left?”
“Yes.”
“Does she have cameras?”
“Doorbell camera.”
“Tell her not to open the door.”
“She knows.”
Eleven minutes later, I turned onto Anna’s street.
Two patrol cars were already outside.
I barely parked before jumping out.
Anna opened the door after an officer confirmed my identity.
Sophia ran toward me.
“Daddy!”
I dropped to my knees.
She hit my chest so hard I nearly fell backward.
“I’m here.”
“You said you’d come back.”
“I told you.”
I held her until her breathing slowed.
Anna stood behind her.
Her face was pale.
“The photo is outside.”
Torres went to the porch with gloves.
I carried Sophia into the living room.
Mia was sitting on the couch.
Eric stood at the window, furious.
“What kind of sick person follows a three-year-old?” he demanded.
I had no answer.
Sophia touched the scrape on my cheek from the staircase fall.
“Daddy has boo-boo.”
“I’m okay.”
She kissed it.
That almost broke me.
Torres returned ten minutes later.
She held an evidence sleeve.
“The photograph was printed recently.”
“Show me.”
She hesitated.
“Daniel.”
“Show me.”
The image showed me carrying Sophia out of the hospital that morning.
Taken from across the parking lot.
A message had been written across the bottom in black marker.
YOU SAVED HER ONCE.
I stared at it.
Anna covered her mouth.
Eric muttered, “Jesus.”
Torres took the photo back.
“This changes things.”
“What things?”
“We’re assigning protection.”
“To Sophia?”
“To all of you.”
“I want her somewhere secure.”
“We can arrange that.”
“No hotels.”
“Agreed.”
“Rachel is in custody. So who took that picture?”
“That’s what we need to find out.”
I looked at the message again.
“This isn’t Rachel.”
“Why?”
“She was already arrested when this was taken.”
Torres nodded.
“So she has someone helping her.”
Or someone had been helping her all along.
By noon, police moved us to a secure residence normally used for protected witnesses.
Anna wanted to come.
I told her not to.
“You have Mia.”
“And you have Sophia.”
“She needs normal people around her.”
“She needs family.”
“She needs you alive.”
Anna glared at me.
“Don’t talk like that.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Torres stepped between us.
“Mr. Bennett is right. Until we know the scope of the threat, fewer people at the location is safer.”
Anna hated it.
But she agreed.
Before leaving, she pulled me aside.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“When Claire called me before she died, she said a name.”
I felt my patience snap.
“Why are you remembering all of this now?”
“Because I spent sixteen months convincing myself it was grief.”
“What name?”
“Thomas.”
I frowned.
“Thomas who?”
“She didn’t say.”
“We know dozens of people named Thomas.”
“I know.”
“What exactly did Claire say?”
Anna closed her eyes.
“She said, ‘If anything happens, don’t trust Thomas.’”
My heart stopped.
There was only one Thomas close enough to matter.
Thomas Mercer.
My company’s chief financial officer.
My best friend since college.
Sophia’s godfather.
I stepped back.
“No.”
Anna’s eyes filled.
“I’m telling you what she said.”
“Thomas loved Claire.”
“Maybe.”
“He carried her casket.”
“I remember.”
“He has been beside me since the funeral.”
“I know.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“Because you nearly collapsed after she died!”
Anna’s voice cracked.
“You weren’t sleeping. You barely ate. You blamed yourself for the affair every day. Sophia cried for her mother every night. And I had one strange sentence from Claire with no proof.”
I looked away.
I couldn’t forgive her yet.
But I understood.
Torres joined us.
“What’s going on?”
I told her.
Her expression sharpened.
“Thomas Mercer handles company finances?”
“Yes.”
“How much access?”
“All of it.”
“And Claire’s letter mentioned stolen money from Bennett Development.”
“Yes.”
Torres was quiet for a moment.
“Do not contact him.”
“He’ll know something is happening.”
“Let him wonder.”
My phone vibrated.
I looked down.
Thomas.
My stomach dropped.
“He’s calling.”
“Don’t answer,” Torres said.
I stared at the screen.
Thomas had called me almost every day after Claire died.
He brought food.
He sat beside Sophia while she cried.
He gave a speech at Claire’s funeral about loyalty.
The phone stopped.
Then a text arrived.
Heard about Sophia. Call me immediately. I’m worried.
Torres read it over my shoulder.
“Does he normally know police matters this quickly?”
“No.”
“How would he know?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked at me.
“Now we have another question.”
An hour later, Torres received a call from the forensic team examining Claire’s old laptop.
She put it on speaker.
“We got into it.”
Torres asked, “What do you have?”
“A spreadsheet tracking unauthorized company transfers.”
I closed my eyes.
“How much?” Torres asked.
“Approximately 8.7 million dollars over thirty-one months.”
I felt sick.
“That can’t happen without internal approval.”
“It didn’t.”
“Names?”
“Most transfers were authorized using CFO credentials.”
Thomas.
The analyst continued.
“But there’s more. Mrs. Bennett created copies of emails.”
“What emails?”
“Between an account associated with Rachel Morgan and someone using an encrypted address.”
“Can you identify the other person?”
“Not yet.”
“What were they discussing?”
A pause.
“Mr. Bennett’s marriage.”
My hands tightened.
The analyst read from one message.
“Once he loses Claire, he’ll come back to you.”
Rachel’s response:
“He won’t if he knows I had anything to do with it.”
My mouth went dry.
Torres stared at me.
The analyst continued.
“The other person replied, ‘Then make sure he never knows.’”
Sophia was coloring at the small kitchen table ten feet away.
A purple crayon moved across the paper.
She was drawing three people.
One tall.
One small.
One with yellow hair.
Claire.
I turned away before Sophia saw my face.
Torres asked, “Any reference to the car accident?”
“We found a message sent the morning Mrs. Bennett died.”
“What does it say?”
The analyst hesitated.
“Problem gets solved today.”
No one spoke.
I finally asked, “Who sent it?”
“The unidentified account.”
“To Rachel?”
“Yes.”
“What did she answer?”
The analyst read it.
“Don’t hurt Sophia.”
My skin went cold.
Torres said, “Why would Sophia be mentioned?”
“I don’t know.”
I did.
Claire had planned to pick Sophia up from daycare that afternoon.
She never made it there.
If Sophia had been in the car—
I couldn’t finish the thought.
The analyst interrupted.
“There’s another file.”
“What?”
“A recording.”
My heart slammed.
“Claire’s conversation with Rachel?”
“Maybe. We’re checking.”
“Play it.”
“Daniel,” Torres warned.
“I need to hear it.”
The analyst sent the recovered file.
Torres opened it on her laptop.
Static filled the room.
Then Claire’s voice.
Quiet.
Controlled.
“You’re stealing from my husband.”
Rachel answered.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know enough.”
“You should stop.”
“Who is Thomas working with?”
My heart stopped.
Rachel laughed nervously.
“You’re very brave all of a sudden.”
“I copied everything.”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“You think Daniel will believe you? After what he did with me?”
Claire’s voice became harder.
“He already told me about the affair.”
Silence.
Then Rachel said something that changed everything.
“You weren’t supposed to forgive him.”
Claire answered, “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”
The recording crackled.
Rachel whispered, “You don’t understand what Thomas is capable of.”
Then a door slammed.
Footsteps.
Claire shouted, “Get out of my house!”
The recording ended.
Torres stared at me.
“Where was this recorded?”
“My house.”
“When?”
“The day before Claire died.”
I could hardly speak.
“Rachel was inside my house.”
Torres looked at the evidence.
“And Claire believed Thomas Mercer was involved.”
My phone rang again.
Thomas.
This time a voicemail appeared seconds later.
Torres said, “Let’s hear it.”
I played it.
Thomas sounded concerned.
“Daniel, call me. I heard somebody attacked Sophia. I’m coming over if I don’t hear from you.”
He paused.
Then added:
“You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Torres immediately looked at me.
“He doesn’t know where you are?”
“No.”
“Good.”
My phone buzzed again.
Another message.
This one wasn’t from Thomas.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
A photograph appeared.
Thomas Mercer standing beside Claire’s car.
The timestamp showed it had been taken at 11:42 a.m.
On the day she died.
Three hours before the crash.
May you like
Beneath the picture was a message.
ASK HIM WHAT HE PUT UNDER THE HOOD.
