Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Knew EverythingSamantha Was Never Just My Mistress
I killed the kitchen lights.
The SUVs remained outside.
Three men stood near the porch.
One looked directly toward the window.
I backed away.
My first instinct was to call the police.
My second was to call Claire.
Neither happened.
Because my phone rang again.
Samantha.
I answered in a whisper.
"What did you get me involved in?"
"I don't know."
"You said Victor hired you."
"I didn't know why."
"For how long?"
"Daniel..."
"For how long?"
"Nine months."
My throat tightened.
Nine months.
Almost the same length of time she'd been in my life.
"You approached me."
"Yes."
"You knew about my marriage."
"Yes."
"You knew Claire."
Silence.
"You knew my wife?"
"Only from photographs."
"Who were you working for?"
"I told you. Victor."
"Victor wasn't the only one."
Another pause.
"Who else?"
She began sobbing.
"I can't say."
"Say it."
"I'll be killed."
The line went silent.
Then there was a knock at her end.
Samantha gasped.
"Someone's here."
"Where are you?"
"I'll call you."
"No. Samantha..."
The line went dead.
I looked out the kitchen window.
The men were no longer on the porch.
They were walking around the side of the house.
I grabbed the ledger and ran upstairs.
I checked every window.
The master bedroom.
Bathroom.
Hallway.
No one.
Then I noticed something.
The photograph Claire had left behind.
The one showing her holding Hope beside the unfamiliar car.
I turned it over.
There was a note written on the back.
Locker 214. St. Vincent Station.
My heart pounded.
A train station.
A locker.
She had left me a path.
But the question was whether it was a trap.
I grabbed my jacket.
As I reached the stairs, I heard glass breaking downstairs.
I froze.
Then footsteps.
Someone had entered the house.
I ran through the back door.
Cold air hit my face.
I crossed the yard and climbed the fence.
I didn't stop until I reached my car.
Thirty minutes later, I parked three blocks from St. Vincent Station.
The station was almost empty.
I entered through the side door.
Locker 214 was at the end of a dark hallway.
The key was taped beneath the photograph.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was a small black case.
A flash drive.
A passport.
Cash.
And a photograph.
I picked up the photograph.
It showed Claire.
But she wasn't alone.
She stood beside an older woman.
The woman was in a wheelchair.
I recognized her immediately.
Margaret Hale.
Victor's mother.
She had supposedly died eighteen months ago.
I stared at the photograph.
Alive.
Then I noticed the date.
Two weeks ago.
A note was attached.
She knows where the money went.
I looked at the passport.
It was Claire's.
A second passport was inside.
For Hope.
My knees nearly gave out.
Claire had been planning this for months.
I grabbed the flash drive and rushed back toward my car.
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
Do not trust Victor.
Another message arrived.
Do not trust Samantha.
Then a third.
Do not trust Claire either.
I stopped walking.
My eyes remained fixed on the screen.
A fourth message appeared.
Ask yourself why she left the ledger where you could find it.
I looked at the black case.
For the first time, doubt entered the story.
What if Claire hadn't left the evidence for me to save myself?
What if she needed me to discover it?
What if I was exactly where she wanted me to be?
I drove straight to my office.
The building was dark.
I used my keycard.
The elevator took me to the tenth floor.
My office door was unlocked.
I entered.
Every file cabinet had been opened.
Documents were scattered across the floor.
My computer was missing.
The safe behind my desk was open.
Empty.
I stepped closer.
On the desk sat a single photograph.
I picked it up.
It was Claire.
Holding Hope.
Standing in front of a cabin.
On the back:
You have forty-eight hours.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
"Looking for something?"
I turned.
Victor stood in the doorway.
He wasn't alone.
Two men stood behind him.
Victor closed the door.
Then he smiled.
May you like
And said,
"Daniel, you really should have listened to your wife."
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