Chapter 3 - The Divorce PapersJulian wanted freedom. What he really wanted was ownership of my death.The divorce petition was dated three days before the shooting.

I read it twice.

Then a third time.

Julian had prepared everything in advance.

Assets.

Properties.

Accounts.

Jewelry.

Company holdings.

Even the house in McLean.

Everything had been carefully divided.

Except one thing.

My life insurance policy.

Twenty million dollars.

I looked at Mara.

"Who's the beneficiary?"

"Julian."

Silence.

"He changed it?"

"No."

"Then who was?"

"Arthur Croft."

My stomach tightened.

Mara opened the original policy.

Arthur had changed the beneficiary two months before his death.

From himself.

To me.

Twenty million dollars.

Then three months later, Julian filed for divorce.

Two months after that, Arthur died.

And three days before the ambush, Julian scheduled a meeting with an insurance attorney.

"This wasn't an affair."

Mara nodded.

"No."

"It was financial."

"Partly."

"What do you mean?"

She showed me another document.

A corporate trust.

Julian inherited voting control if both Arthur and I were removed from the equation.

I stared at the page.

"If I die, Julian controls Croft."

"Correct."

"And if Arthur is already dead..."

"He becomes the controlling shareholder."

I slowly understood.

The affair was camouflage.

The cruelty.

The stolen armor.

The public humiliation.

It had all helped build a story.

A woman who was difficult.

Controlling.

Emotionally unstable.

Paranoid.

Then one unfortunate operational accident.

A tragic death.

Insurance payout.

Corporate control.

Clean.

Elegant.

I almost respected the architecture of it.

Almost.

"Where's Clara?"

"Safe."

"Safe from whom?"

Mara gave me a look.

"That's complicated."

I knew immediately.

"She's working with someone."

"We think so."

"Who?"

Mara slid another image across the desk.

Security footage.

Clara entering a parking garage.

A man waiting for her.

His face was partially obscured.

But I recognized the suit.

Nathan Rook.

Retired deputy director.

My former commander.

My stomach dropped.

"Rook."

Mara nodded.

"We found six meetings between them."

"Six?"

"Before the shooting."

I stared at the footage.

"Then Clara isn't Julian's mistress."

"What?"

"She's Rook's asset."

Mara said nothing.

I pointed to the screen.

"Look at the way she stands."

"What about it?"

"She's not relaxed."

I zoomed the image mentally.

"She's waiting for instructions."

Mara crossed her arms.

"That doesn't prove anything."

"No."

I looked at the footage again.

"But this will."

I noticed Clara was carrying something.

A small silver object.

"Enhance the left hand."

Mara did.

A ring.

Black ceramic.

With a tiny gold line around it.

I knew that ring.

Rook's field operatives wore them.

The gold stripe indicated Level Three clearance.

Clara wasn't just working with Rook.

She was one of his people.

That changed everything.

"Why use Julian?"

Mara shrugged.

"Maybe because he was useful."

"No."

I looked at the file again.

"Because he was easy."

Julian loved power.

Loved admiration.

Loved women who depended on him.

He had never needed to be ordered to betray someone.

He only needed to believe betrayal would reward him.

"What does Rook want?"

Mara opened Harborlight.

"The project was designed to move high-risk witnesses and protected individuals through private corporate transportation networks."

"So Croft was helping hide people."

"Not just hide."

She tapped the screen.

"Erase."

My chest tightened.

"Disappearances."

"Seventeen confirmed."

"Children?"

Mara hesitated.

"Four."

I looked away.

I thought of Clara's smile.

The stolen armor.

The dressing pressed over my wound.

The quiet cruelty.

Then I remembered Arthur's last conversation with me.

Two weeks before he died.

He had looked unusually frightened.

He told me:

"If anything happens to me, don't trust Julian."

I asked why.

He said:

"Because he already chose."

I had assumed he meant the affair.

He didn't.

He meant Harborlight.

A secure message suddenly appeared on Mara's screen.

Sender unknown.

STOP INVESTIGATING CROFT.

Then another.

OR CLARA DIES TONIGHT.

Mara looked at me.

"You can't go after her."

"I have to."

"You nearly died six hours ago."

"Exactly."

I reached for the tactical case.

Mara blocked it.

"You're suspended."

I smiled.

"Keystone suspended me."

"You are not cleared."

I opened the case anyway.

Inside was a pistol.

A spare identity kit.

A satellite phone.

And a folded black scarf.

My old field gear.

Mara stared at me.

"I knew you'd do this."

"No, you hoped I wouldn't."

She sighed.

"Where are you going?"

"To find Clara."

"For what?"

I slipped the pistol into the holster.

"To ask her one question."

"What question?"

I looked at the message.

OR CLARA DIES TONIGHT.

"Why did Rook need her alive?"

My phone vibrated.

A location appeared.

An abandoned church.

Then one final line.

COME ALONE, KALIN.

I looked at Mara.

She shook her head.

"That's a trap."

"I know."

"Then why are you going?"

I picked up the old black scarf.

"Because they think I'm still the woman they shot."

The church doors opened on the surveillance feed.

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