Chapter 4 - THE DEAD MAN WHO WASN'T DEADWe didn't sleep.
At 3:14 in the morning, the motel phone rang.
Nobody had given anyone the number.
Ethan stared at it.
It rang again.
Mother whispered, “Don't answer.”
The phone rang a third time.
I picked it up.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a man's voice.
“Claire.”
I knew that voice.
Not because I had heard it before.
Because I had heard it in my dreams.
“You're Jonathan.”
“Yes.”
My heart pounded.
“Where are you?”
“Don't ask.”
“Why?”
“Because the person listening may already know.”
I looked at Ethan.
He motioned for me to keep him talking.
“Why did you write that letter?”
“Because your mother is right about one thing.”
“What?”
“She knows why I disappeared.”
“Did she kill someone?”
Silence.
“Jonathan?”
“She killed the wrong man.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Claire, listen carefully.”
His voice became urgent.
“Diane believes she controls the inheritance.”
“She doesn't?”
“No.”
“Then who does?”
“You do.”
I looked at the box.
“What inheritance?”
“Your grandfather created a trust before he died.”
“How much?”
“That doesn't matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“It will matter to everyone.”
I swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because whoever controls that trust controls Vale Meridian.”
The line went dead.
Ethan stared.
“Did he say anything else?”
I shook my head.
Then Mother's phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Her face went white.
“Who?”
She showed us.
UNKNOWN.
She answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a woman's voice came through.
“Did you enjoy your soup, Helen?”
Mother stopped breathing.
Diane.
“Where are you?” Mother whispered.
“Watching.”
The call ended.
Ethan looked at me.
“We need to move.”
Before we could leave, headlights filled the motel room.
Five black SUVs.
Security.
Men in suits surrounded the building.
Ethan cursed.
“Diane found us.”
The motel door exploded inward.
A man entered.
Not Ryan.
A stranger.
He held a gun.
“Claire Vale?”
I froze.
Ethan tackled him.
The gun fired.
The bullet struck the ceiling.
Everything became chaos.
I grabbed the box.
Mother screamed.
We ran through the bathroom.
Out the window.
Across the parking lot.
Behind the motel was a narrow drainage ditch.
We crawled through it while gunshots echoed behind us.
Eventually we reached a service road.
A dark sedan waited.
The driver stepped out.
Jonathan.
I knew immediately.
He looked exactly like the photograph.
Older.
Scarred.
Alive.
He looked at me.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then he whispered:
“My daughter.”
I hated how much those two words affected me.
“You left.”
“I know.”
“You watched us.”
“I protected you.”
“You let Mom raise us alone.”
“I had no choice.”
“You always had a choice.”
His face broke.
“I chose to let you hate me.”
“Why?”
He looked at Mother.
She stood several yards away.
He said:
“Because your mother saved your life.”
Then Diane's voice came from somewhere behind us.
“How touching.”
We turned.
She stood on the road.
No designer dress this time.
Black coat.
Black gloves.
Three armed men behind her.
She smiled.
“Family reunions are so much more pleasant when everyone stops pretending.”
Mother stepped forward.
“Diane.”
Diane smiled.
“You really thought you could hide Claire forever?”
Jonathan moved toward me.
Diane pointed at him.
“Don't.”
He stopped.
Diane looked at me.
“Your father never told you the most important part.”
“What?”
She smiled.
“Jonathan didn't disappear to protect you.”
She stepped closer.
“He disappeared because he was being hunted for murder.”
My blood ran cold.
“Whose murder?”
Diane looked at Mother.
“Ask her.”
I turned.
Mother's face had gone gray.
Diane laughed.
“Ask your mother what happened to the first woman Jonathan married.”
I looked at Mother.
“Mom?”
Her lips trembled.
Diane smiled.
“Her name was Eleanor.”
Then she turned to leave.
But before she reached the car, she said:
“And Claire?”
I looked at her.
“Your marriage to Ryan wasn't an accident.”
May you like
She smiled.
“It was an assignment.”
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