Chapter 3 - Nobody spoke.The funeral hall had become unbearably quiet.
David looked at Emily.
Then Rebecca.
Then Emily again.
"What exactly did your mother tell you?"
Emily's lips trembled.
"She said you weren't coming back."
David stared at Rebecca.
Rebecca began crying.
"I was trying to protect her."
"From what?"
"You."
The word hung in the air.
David felt something crack inside him.
"From me?"
Rebecca nodded.
"You weren't yourself."
"What does that mean?"
She looked at Mark.
Mark looked away.
David saw it.
"You two talked."
Rebecca didn't answer.
"You knew something."
"No."
David walked closer.
"Rebecca, somebody put me in a coffin."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Someone put you in that coffin because they believed you were dead."
"Then why did you organize the funeral?"
She froze.
David stepped closer.
"You organized it."
Rebecca whispered:
"I was told to."
"By whom?"
She didn't answer.
David slammed his palm against the table.
"By whom?"
Her shoulders shook.
"Your doctor."
David stopped.
"My doctor?"
"Dr. Alan Mercer."
David knew the name.
Private physician.
Family doctor.
The man who had treated him for years.
"What did he tell you?"
Rebecca looked at the floor.
"He said you had suffered a catastrophic heart attack."
David stared.
"I was never examined."
"I know."
"Did he show you a medical report?"
"Yes."
"Did you see me?"
"No."
That answer destroyed everything.
Rebecca had attended a funeral for a man she had never actually seen dead.
David turned to Mark.
"What happened three days ago?"
Mark was silent.
David's patience snapped.
"What happened?"
Mark sighed.
"You called me."
"Yes."
"You said you had evidence."
"What evidence?"
"Financial records."
David's eyes narrowed.
"Against who?"
"Your company."
David's heart sank.
He had founded Whitmore Logistics twenty-two years earlier.
The company was worth nearly half a billion dollars.
It moved medical equipment, industrial machinery and government contracts across several states.
David had always believed it was clean.
Apparently it wasn't.
"What did the records show?"
Mark looked around.
"Not here."
David immediately understood.
"Where?"
"The train station."
"Take me."
Rebecca grabbed his arm.
"No."
David looked down at her hand.
"Why?"
"You don't know who is watching."
"I've already been shot at."
"That's not the worst part."
David stared at her.
"What is?"
Rebecca whispered:
"If those records still exist, they will kill you again."
David slowly pulled away.
Mark stared at Rebecca.
"How much do you know?"
She looked at him.
"Enough."
"Enough for what?"
"Enough to understand that this was never about the money."
David frowned.
"Then what is it about?"
Rebecca closed her eyes.
Before she could answer, Emily's phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
"Hello?"
No voice.
Just breathing.
Then a distorted whisper.
"Your father shouldn't have woken up."
The call ended.
Emily dropped the phone.
David picked it up.
A text appeared.
COME TO THE TRAIN STATION AT MIDNIGHT.
BRING MARK.
COME ALONE.
David looked at the clock.
11:17 p.m.
He turned to Mark.
"We're going."
Mark shook his head.
"It's a trap."
"Obviously."
"So why go?"
"Because someone just confirmed they expected me to survive."
David grabbed his coat.
Rebecca stood in front of him.
"Don't."
David looked into her eyes.
"Do you want me to trust you?"
She started crying.
"I want you alive."
David's voice became quieter.
"That's not what I asked."
She had no answer.
At midnight, David and Mark drove toward the old train station.
Rain hammered the windshield.
Neither man spoke.
When they arrived, the station was almost completely abandoned.
One flickering light.
Broken benches.
An empty ticket booth.
Mark checked his weapon.
David stepped out.
"Where did you leave my car?"
"Near platform four."
They walked.
David felt something familiar in the air.
Fear.
He had felt this before.
Not recently.
Years ago.
He remembered being twenty-eight.
A warehouse.
A man shouting.
A gun.
Then nothing.
David stopped.
"What?"
Mark asked.
"I remember."
"Remember what?"
"The night James Holloway disappeared."
Mark stared.
"What happened?"
David touched his temple.
"He was afraid."
"Of what?"
David looked down the dark railway tunnel.
"He said somebody had found the ledger."
"What ledger?"
"I don't know."
A metallic sound echoed behind them.
Both men turned.
Nobody.
Then a train bell rang.
There hadn't been a working train on that line for years.
Mark raised his weapon.
A distant headlight appeared.
David stared.
The train slowly rolled toward them.
No driver.
No passengers.
It stopped directly in front of David.
One door opened.
Inside was a single object.
A black briefcase.
David stepped forward.
Mark grabbed his arm.
"Wait."
David looked at him.
"Who else would know we came here?"
Mark didn't answer.
David reached into the train.
The briefcase clicked open by itself.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
David.
Rebecca.
Emily.
Mark.
Taken over several years.
Some from outside their home.
Some from their bedroom window.
Some from inside David's office.
At the bottom was one final photograph.
It showed David lying in a hospital bed.
The date was three days earlier.
David stared at the photograph.
"That's impossible."
Mark slowly took it.
On the back was a sentence.
YOU WERE ALREADY DEAD WHEN THEY DECLARED YOU DEAD.
David's stomach turned.
"What does that mean?"
Then the train lights went out.
A voice spoke from the darkness.
"Ask your wife."
David spun around.
Nobody was there.
Only a final sound.
May you like
A woman's laughter.
Rebecca's voice.
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