Chapter 3 - THE SEVEN CALLSMichael drove through the city like a man being chased by his own memories.
Emily sat beside him.
The children were with a trusted family driver behind them.
Victoria had been left in the ballroom under guard until the police arrived.
But Michael no longer trusted anyone.
Not the security staff.
Not the investigators.
Not even the official story he had believed for three years.
He called Detective Harold Kane.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Emily looked out the window.
“We need to find Pier Nine.”
Michael gripped the steering wheel.
“First I want Rachel’s call records.”
“I already brought copies.”
She handed him a folder.
Michael opened it.
Seven calls.
All placed to Victoria.
9:52 p.m.
10:06 p.m.
10:18 p.m.
10:31 p.m.
10:46 p.m.
11:01 p.m.
11:17 p.m.
The final call ended at 11:28.
Rachel’s crash was at 11:43.
Michael stared at the page.
“Why would Rachel call Victoria seven times?”
Emily hesitated.
“She was scared.”
“About what?”
“She told me someone was following her.”
Michael looked over.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You must have heard something.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“She said she found financial records.”
Michael slowed the car.
“What financial records?”
“Payments.”
“To whom?”
“That’s what I never found out.”
Michael looked back at the papers.
Then something caught his attention.
The seventh call.
Beside it was an unfamiliar number listed under a forwarding code.
He dialed it.
A recorded message answered.
“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”
Emily frowned.
“Who was it?”
Michael looked at the folder.
“Private relay.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It does if someone wanted to hide who was calling.”
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
No one spoke.
Then a man's voice said:
“You're looking for the wrong night.”
Michael’s pulse jumped.
“Who is this?”
“Look at the night before Rachel died.”
The call ended.
Emily stared at him.
“What did he say?”
Michael repeated it.
Then he pulled over.
“Rachel didn't suddenly discover something on the night she died.”
He opened the folder again.
“Someone was already after her.”
Emily leaned closer.
A second page showed security logs from Rachel’s office.
At 8:13 p.m. the night before the accident, someone entered the building.
Name:
VICTOR LANGFORD.
Emily whispered:
“Victoria's father.”
Michael shook his head.
“Her father died eight months before Rachel.”
Emily looked at the printout.
“That’s impossible.”
Michael turned the page.
Beneath Victor Langford’s name was another entry.
ACCESS CARD REISSUED.
Date:
Three days before Rachel's death.
Michael stared at the document.
“Who authorized this?”
Emily pointed to the bottom.
A digital signature.
Michael recognized it.
He had signed hundreds of documents using the same electronic system.
But this signature was dated while he was in Chicago.
He pulled out his travel records.
He had been there.
The authorization had been made from his laptop.
Emily went pale.
“Someone used your account.”
Michael nodded slowly.
“Someone wanted it to look like I approved Victor's access.”
“Why?”
He didn't answer.
Because he was remembering another detail.
Three days before Rachel died, Victoria had asked him for his laptop password.
She claimed she needed to print wedding documents.
Michael had given it to her.
His phone rang again.
This time the caller ID was visible.
HAROLD KANE.
Michael answered.
The detective spoke immediately.
“Do not go to Pier Nine.”
“Why?”
“Because Rachel never made it there.”
Michael stared ahead.
“What do you mean?”
Kane’s breathing became uneven.
“Because I did.”
Silence.
“I found the evidence.”
“What evidence?”
Kane whispered:
“And then someone shot the man who had it.”
The line went dead.
Michael looked at Emily.
“Who did he say was shot?”
Emily's eyes widened.
“He didn't.”
Michael checked the call.
Kane had called from an address.
Pier Nine.
Warehouse 17.
May you like
Michael started the car.
Because now he knew where to go.
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