Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO DIEFor several seconds, neither of us spoke.
I thought I had heard him wrong.
“What did you say?”
“Brenda is dead.”
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Christopher, what happened?”
“They found her car near the river this morning.”
I stood.
“Did she kill herself?”
“No.”
He sounded terrified.
“She was murdered.”
I looked at the photograph on my bed.
Brenda.
Douglas.
Christopher.
“What did she know?”
Christopher breathed heavily.
“Everything.”
“About the money?”
“Yes.”
“About Garrett?”
“Yes.”
My blood went cold.
“You knew Garrett was pretending?”
“I knew something was wrong.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
Silence.
Then he said:
“Because they threatened you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You cheated on me for money and now you're saying you were protecting me?”
“I never wanted you involved.”
“You involved me when you married me.”
“Rebecca...”
I ended the call.
I couldn't trust him.
Not anymore.
I plugged the flash drive into my laptop.
One folder.
One video.
I opened it.
Garrett appeared on screen.
Standing.
Walking.
Alive.
The recording had been made two weeks before the accident.
Garrett stood in his office speaking to someone off-camera.
“I know about the accounts.”
A man's voice answered.
“You're making a mistake.”
Garrett continued.
“Douglas, I'm giving you forty-eight hours.”
I froze.
Douglas.
The video ended.
A second file appeared.
It contained bank records.
Payments.
Names.
Then one name appeared repeatedly.
Brenda Shaw.
She wasn't Douglas's lover.
She was an accountant working undercover for Garrett.
The affair story Christopher had told me suddenly looked different.
Maybe Brenda had never been his lover.
Maybe she had been pretending.
I opened another folder.
Photographs.
Christopher meeting Brenda.
Christopher meeting Douglas.
Christopher meeting someone else.
I zoomed in.
The fourth person was a lawyer.
Ethan Vale.
A man whose name meant nothing to me.
Until I opened the next document.
He was the attorney who handled Garrett's estate planning.
I called Garrett.
“Wake up.”
His eyes opened.
“What happened?”
“Brenda wasn't your brother's mistress.”
“I know.”
I stared at him.
“You knew?”
“She told me before the accident.”
“Why didn't you say anything?”
“Because I needed to see what you would do.”
I stepped back.
“You've been testing me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed someone outside this house.”
I almost walked away.
Then he said:
“Rebecca, I chose you because you cared for your father.”
I stopped.
“How did you know?”
“Your former classmate told my mother about you.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You've already done something none of my doctors could.”
“What?”
“You noticed when I was lying.”
I stared at him.
He continued.
“Most people see a wheelchair and stop looking.”
“You don't.”
“I saw your feet.”
Garrett smiled faintly.
“You noticed my toe moved.”
That evening, I found something tucked inside my father's photograph.
I stared at it.
A small key.
I had never seen it before.
On the tag was a number.
17.
I called Garrett.
“Did you put this there?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
He went silent.
“Your father?”
“My father died three years ago.”
Garrett's face changed.
“Rebecca, where did you get that?”
“Inside his photograph.”
He wheeled closer.
“I need to see it.”
I handed it to him.
He turned it over.
There were letters scratched into the metal.
B-17
Garrett stared at it for a long time.
Then he looked at me.
“I know what that is.”
“What?”
“An evidence locker.”
“For what?”
Garrett looked toward the door.
“The accident.”
He lowered his voice.
“Your father investigated the people who tried to kill me.”
I felt dizzy.
“My father was a retired teacher.”
“No.”
Garrett looked at the key.
“He was much more than that.”
Before I could ask another question, the bedroom lights went out.
The estate fell into darkness.
A scream echoed from downstairs.
Then another.
Garrett's eyes widened.
“Rebecca.”
“What?”
“Stay behind me.”
“You can't even walk.”
“I know.”
May you like
A shadow passed beneath the bedroom door.
Then the lock began to turn.
