Chapter 4 - I spent that night in a safe house I didn't recognize.No photographs.
No personal belongings.
No clocks.
Nathan said anonymity was protection.
I called it prison.
At 3:17 a.m., he entered the room carrying coffee.
“You should sleep.”
“I spent eight months pretending to be brain-damaged.”
I took the coffee.
“Sleep isn't my biggest concern.”
He sat across from me.
“You need a plan.”
“I already have one.”
His eyebrows rose.
“I suspect yours involves breaking into Derek's house.”
“Not yet.”
“Good.”
I smiled.
“I want to know who declared me dead.”
Nathan put a tablet on the table.
“Your death certificate was filed electronically at 9:42 p.m.”
I looked at the screen.
The lake incident happened at approximately 7:30.
That meant someone had filed my death before there was any official recovery of my body.
“Who signed it?”
“Dr. Samuel Voss.”
My stomach tightened.
“The psychiatrist?”
“Yes.”
I laughed quietly.
“This is absurd.”
Nathan didn't laugh.
“There's more.”
He showed me the certificate.
Cause of death:
Accidental drowning due to complications from degenerative neurological disease.
No body.
No autopsy.
No identification.
Nothing.
Just paperwork.
I stared at the screen.
“Voss is working for them.”
“Yes.”
“So is someone in the medical system.”
“Yes.”
“And someone in the legal system.”
“Yes.”
I looked up.
“How far does this go?”
Nathan's expression changed.
“Further than I wanted.”
He slid another photograph across the table.
A police captain.
I recognized him.
Captain Ross.
He had attended my husband's funeral twelve years ago.
At the time, I thought he had been a family friend.
Nathan pointed to the image.
“Captain Ross has received regular payments from a company connected to Amanda.”
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand every month.”
For what?
Silence.
Protection.
Access.
I sat back.
Suddenly I understood why Nathan had brought me here.
He wasn't trying to save me from one bad son.
He was trying to keep me alive inside a network.
I picked up the phone.
“I need to call Derek.”
Nathan shook his head.
“No.”
“I need him to believe I'm dead.”
“He does.”
“Then that's useful.”
Nathan watched me.
“You're planning to contact him without revealing yourself.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
I smiled.
“People rarely question the dead.”
An hour later, I created an anonymous email account.
The message was simple.
I know what happened at the lake.
I sent it to Derek.
Then I waited.
The response came twelve minutes later.
Who is this?
I typed:
Someone who saw everything.
Three dots appeared.
Then:
What do you want?
I smiled.
The truth.
His response came instantly.
You don't know anything.
I sent one more line.
Your mother does.
No reply.
For seven minutes.
Then the phone on the table rang.
Nathan looked at me.
“It's Derek.”
I didn't answer.
The call ended.
Then another began.
Then another.
Finally, a text appeared.
If this is a joke, you will regret it.
I wrote:
Meet me tomorrow at 8 p.m. Bring Amanda. Come alone.
Then I sent a location.
Not the real meeting place.
The abandoned train station outside town.
Nathan stared at me.
“You're baiting them.”
“Yes.”
“To what?”
“The truth.”
The next morning, we watched Derek.
Nathan had people following him.
At 9:00 a.m., Derek visited a bank.
At 10:30, he went to a law office.
At noon, Amanda joined him.
At 1:15 p.m., they entered a private clinic.
At 2:03 p.m., a black sedan arrived.
Nathan zoomed the camera footage.
My stomach dropped.
I knew the man who got out.
He had been at my husband's funeral.
He had shaken my hand.
He had told me he was sorry for my loss.
He had been my husband's business partner.
Richard Kane.
Nathan watched my face.
“You know him.”
“My husband trusted him.”
“He helped Derek.”
I looked at the screen.
“No.”
Nathan said nothing.
“I refuse to believe it.”
He turned the tablet around.
The image showed Richard entering the clinic.
Underneath was a file transfer log.
Everlake Holdings: $8,700,000
Transferred twelve years ago.
The day before my husband's death.
I stared at the date.
Then another number.
$3,200,000
Transferred six weeks ago.
To Amanda.
I looked up.
“Why would Derek kill me if Amanda already received millions?”
Nathan's expression hardened.
“Because the money she received was an advance.”
“An advance?”
“Someone is financing them.”
The room suddenly seemed colder.
“Who?”
Nathan took a breath.
“We don't know.”
A phone buzzed.
His.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Say that again.”
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“Derek just called someone.”
“Who?”
Nathan put the call on speaker.
A man's voice came through the recording.
Deep.
Calm.
Terrifying.
“Is Evelyn definitely dead?”
Derek replied.
“Yes.”
The man paused.
“Good.”
Then:
“Because if she is alive, everything collapses.”
The recording ended.
I looked at Nathan.
“Who was that?”
He stared at me.
“We've been trying to identify him for six months.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Yes.”
He turned the screen toward me.
GIDEON VALE.
I froze.
Lucinda Vale's brother.
The man who had vanished from public records twenty years ago.
The man my husband once called
May you like
“the most dangerous person I ever met.”
And now he knew I was supposed to be dead.
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