Chapter 5 - The Woman in the Black Sedan
I spent the night in a motel thirty minutes outside town.
I didn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Harold sitting at that kitchen table.
I saw Daniel taking the briefcase.
I saw Brooke telling him to make me leave.
And I heard those final words.
We don't give her enough time to talk.
At six in the morning, I called Pierce.
He answered immediately.
“You're alive.”
“I didn't know that was in question.”
“It is now.”
He sighed.
“Listen to me carefully. Do not go home alone.”
“I need clothes.”
“Buy clothes.”
“I need medication.”
“I can arrange it.”
“I need Harold's documents.”
“I have copies.”
“No.”
I stared at the ceiling.
“I need the originals.”
There was a pause.
Then Pierce said something I hadn't expected.
“Then we need to find the woman in the black sedan.”
I sat upright.
“What woman?”
“The investigator.”
“You said the investigator worked for Harold.”
“He did.”
“Her?”
“Yes.”
“What's her name?”
“Rachel Mercer.”
“Where is she?”
“That is the problem.”
Pierce told me Rachel had vanished after Harold's death.
No body.
No resignation.
No explanation.
Her office had been emptied.
Her bank account closed.
Her phone disconnected.
Nothing.
It was as if she had never existed.
But Harold had paid her to investigate Daniel.
And Rachel had recorded everything.
I met Pierce at a diner.
He brought a file.
The first photograph showed Rachel standing outside our house.
The second showed her following Daniel.
The third showed her meeting someone at a parking garage.
I recognized the man.
Mark.
Daniel's construction-company friend.
Pierce tapped the picture.
“Rachel had evidence that Mark was laundering money.”
“Through the property?”
“Through shell companies.”
“And Brooke?”
“We think she knew.”
I looked at the date.
The meeting took place ten days before Harold died.
“What happened afterward?”
“She sent Harold a message.”
“What did it say?”
Pierce pushed over a printed email.
Your son isn't the only one involved.
I read it twice.
“Who else?”
“That's what Harold wanted to know.”
“Did he find out?”
Pierce nodded.
“He sent Rachel one final instruction.”
“What?”
“Find out who Brooke is really working for.”
I stared at him.
“Brooke?”
Pierce leaned closer.
“Linda, I need you to understand something.”
His expression was serious.
“Brooke may not have started this.”
A chill ran through me.
“What are you saying?”
“I think someone recruited her.”
“Why?”
“Because she had access to Daniel.”
“And she had access to me.”
“Yes.”
The implications were ugly.
I looked through the file again.
There was one more photograph.
Rachel had circled a woman standing behind Brooke at an event.
A woman in her forties.
Elegant.
Blonde.
Perfectly dressed.
I recognized her instantly.
“That's Evelyn.”
Pierce's face tightened.
“You know her?”
“She used to work with Harold.”
“On what?”
“The development project.”
Pierce sat back.
“The same project involving our property?”
I nodded.
“Evelyn disappeared from the company after Harold refused to sell.”
Pierce looked at the photograph.
“Then she may have a motive.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered.
No one spoke.
Then a woman's voice said:
“Mrs. Wentworth?”
“Yes.”
“You need to stop digging.”
My blood ran cold.
“Who is this?”
“You don't know me.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Because Harold trusted the wrong person.”
I glanced at Pierce.
“Who?”
The woman hesitated.
Then whispered:
“Daniel isn't the one who killed Harold.”
My heart stopped.
“Who did?”
A car horn sounded behind her.
Then the call ended.
Pierce was already standing.
“Did you recognize the voice?”
“No.”
He stared at me.
“Did she say where she was?”
“No.”
My phone buzzed again.
A photograph.
I opened it.
It showed my house.
Taken that morning.
Someone had photographed the front door.
Then another image arrived.
This one showed me leaving the diner.
Taken from across the street.
Underneath it was a message.
You have until sunset.
I looked at Pierce.
He reached for the phone.
“Call the police.”
I shook my head.
“Harold said not to trust them.”
Pierce sighed.
“That doesn't mean every officer is corrupt.”
“I know.”
“Then why won't you call?”
“Because whoever sent this knows where I am.”
I stood.
“Someone is following me.”
Pierce checked the diner window.
Across the street sat a black sedan.
My pulse rose.
“Rachel?”
The sedan started moving.
Pierce grabbed his coat.
“Don't run outside.”
“Why?”
He pointed toward the driver's seat.
“I think that's her.”
The black sedan stopped at the corner.
The driver's door opened.
And the woman who stepped out looked exactly like the photograph.
Rachel Mercer was alive.
But she wasn't alone.
A man stepped out from the passenger side.
Daniel.
May you like
And he was holding a gun.
:::
