Chapter 2 - THE MAN IN THE BAKERYMarlo did not move.
Poppy slept in the bedroom at the end of the hall.
The bakery was directly beneath them.
Someone was inside.
“Mrs. Hart?”
The voice came again.
Marlo grabbed the heavy wooden rolling pin from the kitchen.
Then she looked toward Poppy’s room.
The little girl had not moved.
Marlo crossed the hallway silently and locked Poppy’s door from the outside.
Then she returned to the kitchen and called 911.
Before the operator answered, she heard the bakery refrigerator open.
A metallic clank.
Then footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Marlo pressed herself against the wall.
The stairs creaked.
One step.
Two.
Three.
The footsteps stopped.
Someone was standing at the bottom.
Marlo could hear breathing.
Then her phone vibrated.
A text.
From Elias.
DON’T CALL THE POLICE.
She stared at the message.
A second text arrived.
THE MAN IN YOUR BAKERY IS NOT THERE TO HURT YOU.
Her eyes narrowed.
A third message appeared.
HE IS THERE TO FIND OUT WHETHER YOU STILL HAVE THE FILE.
Marlo felt her mouth go dry.
What file?
She typed.
WHAT FILE?
Elias replied immediately.
THE BLUE ENVELOPE.
Marlo's mind raced.
There was only one blue envelope she possessed.
She had found it eleven months ago, two days after Poppy’s surgery.
It had been hidden beneath a stack of hospital papers.
Inside was a single photocopied document.
She had never understood it.
A list of names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Hospital room numbers.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Poppy Hart.
At the time, Marlo had assumed it was an insurance document.
Then Poppy became sick again.
Then Preston disappeared.
Then the medical bills arrived.
Marlo had put the envelope at the back of the bakery safe.
She had never told anyone.
Not even Ruthie.
Now she stared at the stairs.
The stranger downstairs knew about it.
How?
Her phone rang.
Elias.
She answered.
“Where are you?”
“Two streets away.”
“Did you send that man?”
“No.”
“Then who is he?”
“Someone who thinks the envelope still exists.”
“Why does it matter?”
Elias became silent.
“Elias?”
“Marlo, listen carefully.”
She heard a car accelerate somewhere outside.
“If he finds that envelope, Poppy becomes more than a custody dispute.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone will stop trying to take your daughter through court.”
Silence.
“They’ll take her another way.”
The line died.
Marlo’s blood ran cold.
Below her, the footsteps continued.
The intruder entered the office.
A drawer opened.
Another.
Then silence.
Marlo slowly approached the stairs.
Her phone vibrated again.
A picture appeared.
Elias had sent it.
It was a photograph of the man inside her bakery.
Marlo stared.
She knew him.
Daniel Mercer.
The hospital records employee.
The man who had called her.
Except now he wasn't wearing his hospital badge.
And in the photograph, he was holding a key.
The bakery key.
Marlo stepped backward.
Then something crashed downstairs.
A chair.
She ran toward Poppy’s room.
She opened the door.
“Poppy.”
Her daughter woke.
“Mommy?”
“We're leaving.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going somewhere safe.”
Poppy's frightened eyes widened.
“Is Daddy coming?”
“No.”
A loud crash shook the ceiling.
Poppy cried out.
Marlo grabbed her hand.
They rushed toward the emergency staircase.
Halfway down, Marlo heard the bakery door slam.
She shoved open the back exit.
Cold night air hit her face.
They ran into the alley.
A car was waiting.
Black.
Large.
Its headlights were off.
Marlo stopped.
The rear door opened.
Elias sat inside.
“Get in.”
She hesitated.
“Trust me,” he said.
Behind them, the bakery door burst open.
Daniel stepped into the alley.
He saw Elias.
He froze.
Then Elias looked at him.
Daniel dropped his hand.
Whatever he had been holding fell onto the pavement.
A photograph.
Poppy’s hospital photograph.
Elias opened the car door wider.
“Now, Marlo.”
She got in.
The car sped away.
Marlo held Poppy against her chest.
Elias sat opposite them.
“Who is he?” she demanded.
“Someone who works for a man named Victor Vale.”
“And who is Victor Vale?”
Elias looked through the window.
“A man who has been waiting eleven years for that blue envelope.”
Marlo stared.
“Eleven?”
“Yes.”
“How could he know about something I found eleven months ago?”
“Because you didn’t find it.”
Elias turned toward her.
“Someone wanted you to find it.”
The car went silent.
Poppy lifted her head.
“Mommy?”
Marlo looked down.
“What?”
Poppy whispered,
“The envelope wasn’t in the drawer.”
Marlo froze.
“What?”
“I moved it.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Where?”
Poppy pointed beneath her jacket.
“It’s in my backpack.”
Marlo slowly looked at Elias.
His expression had changed.
For the first time since she met him, he looked genuinely shocked.
Then the phone in his pocket rang.
He answered.
“Elias.”
A voice said something.
His eyes hardened.
“Say that again.”
Silence.
Then he looked at Marlo.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“The hearing isn’t Friday anymore.”
Marlo’s stomach dropped.
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“When is it?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
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