“Rebecca?”
I stared at the phone.
Nothing.
“Rebecca!”
The line remained dead.
Nina was already dialing emergency services.
Marcus grabbed his laptop.
“I have the Lake Geneva address.”
“Give it to her.”
Nina repeated the address to the dispatcher while I called Rebecca back.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
No answer.
Then Daniel called me.
I froze.
Nina looked over.
“Answer it.”
I put him on speaker.
“What did you do?”
My voice came out colder than I expected.
Daniel sounded breathless.
“What are you talking about?”
“Rebecca.”
Silence.
That silence told me he knew exactly what I meant.
“Where is she?”
“Claire, stay out of this.”
“Did you break into that house?”
“It’s my house.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Rebecca is confused.”
I laughed once.
“Interesting word.”
“She’s been going through things she doesn’t understand.”
“Like Thomas’s letter?”
Another silence.
Then his voice hardened.
“She told you?”
“No.”
“What?”
“You told us.”
Daniel stopped speaking.
For the first time, I heard fear in his breathing.
“You shouted about the letter while she was on the phone with me.”
He cursed quietly.
Nina looked at me and nodded to keep him talking.
“What is in the letter, Daniel?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did you go there?”
“I wanted to talk.”
“You broke glass.”
“I didn’t break anything.”
“Rebecca screamed.”
“Claire—”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer scared me more than anything else he had said.
“You were just at the house.”
“I left.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Five minutes ago.”
“Why?”
“Because she wouldn’t listen.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing!”
His voice exploded through the speaker.
Then, quieter:
“I didn’t touch her.”
Nobody in the room moved.
He had answered a question I hadn’t asked.
I looked at Nina.
Her face changed too.
“Daniel,” I said carefully, “I never asked whether you touched her.”
He stopped breathing for a second.
Then:
“Don’t twist my words.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re destroying my life.”
“You’re doing that yourself.”
“You think you understand this because you found some paperwork?”
“I understand you lied about Thomas Bell.”
“Thomas was unstable.”
“According to whom?”
“Everyone knew.”
“Who is everyone?”
“People who worked with him.”
“Names.”
Daniel didn’t answer.
I pressed harder.
“Was Thomas removing you from Bell Freight?”
“Who told you that?”
“So he was.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Did you steal from him?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Did you transfer Bell Freight assets into Prescott Logistics?”
“That was legal.”
“Show me the agreement.”
Silence.
“Daniel?”
“It was handled years ago.”

“By whom?”
“My attorney.”
“Name.”
Another silence.
“I don’t remember.”
I almost laughed.
Daniel remembered every contract number from deals worth millions.
He remembered warehouse lease dates.
He remembered which executives had missed quarterly targets three years earlier.
But somehow he couldn’t remember the attorney who supposedly handled the foundation of his entire company.
“Then tell me about the letter.”
He breathed heavily.
“Claire, listen carefully.”
“I am.”
“Thomas was not well before he died.”
“You’ve said that.”
“He became suspicious.”
“Of you.”
“Of everyone.”
“And he wrote something.”
“Probably nonsense.”
“But you still want it.”
“Because Rebecca is using it to convince herself I cheated her.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then let her keep it.”
Daniel said nothing.
There it was.
The contradiction.
If the letter was meaningless, why was he desperate to get it?
Sirens were faintly audible through Nina’s phone call with the dispatcher.
Daniel heard them too.
“What did you do?”
“I called the police.”
“You did what?”
“You broke into a house while Rebecca was inside.”
“I told you it’s my property.”
“You still don’t get it.”
“Claire, call them back.”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“You need to stop.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t know where this leads.”
I stared at the speaker.
“Then tell me.”
His next words came slowly.
“Some things are buried for a reason.”
The call ended.
Marcus looked at me.
“That sounded like a threat.”
“No.”
Nina shook her head.
“That sounded like fear.”
Twenty-two minutes later, Rebecca called.
I answered before the first ring finished.
“Rebecca?”
She was crying.
“I’m okay.”
I closed my eyes.
“What happened?”
“The police are here.”
“Did Daniel hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did he come inside?”
“He tried.”
“How?”
“He hit the back patio door with something.”
My stomach turned.
“He smashed the glass?”
“Yes.”
“But he didn’t get in?”
“I locked myself in the bedroom and called police.”
“What happened to our call?”
“I dropped the phone.”
I exhaled.
“Where is Daniel?”
“He left before they arrived.”
Marcus muttered, “Of course.”
Then Rebecca said:
“Claire, he took something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“From outside?”
“He had access to the detached garage.”
My heart sank.
“What was there?”
“Boxes.”
“What kind?”
“My father’s old belongings.”
Marcus leaned closer.
“Documents?”
“Yes.”
“Were the files there?”
“Some of them.”
“Was the letter there?”
Rebecca went quiet.
“No.”
I looked at Nina.
“Where is it?”
“With me.”
“Good.”
“I found it yesterday.”
“What does it say?”
“I haven’t finished reading it.”
“Why not?”
Her voice cracked.
“Because the first page scared me.”
The room went silent.
“Read me the first line.”
Rebecca hesitated.
Then I heard paper moving.
When she spoke again, she sounded like someone forcing herself through pain.
“Rebecca, if you are reading this, it means I was right not to trust Daniel.”
Nobody moved.
Then Rebecca continued.
“He says he discovered Daniel had been moving money through fake vendors.”
Marcus started typing rapidly.
“He names them?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Four.”
“Read them.”
Rebecca listed four companies.
Marcus searched each one as she spoke.
His expression changed immediately.
“What?”
I asked.
“Two of those names appear in current Prescott Logistics records.”
My blood went cold.
“Current?”
“Yes.”
Daniel hadn’t stopped.
He had recycled the system.
Rebecca kept reading.
“My father wrote that he confronted Daniel privately.”
“What happened?”
“He denied it.”
“Then?”
“He says Daniel threatened to destroy him financially.”
Nina sat down slowly.
Rebecca continued.
“He says Daniel told him nobody would believe him because Daniel had already been telling employees Thomas was becoming unstable.”
I remembered Daniel saying the same thing minutes earlier.
Thomas was not well.
Thomas became suspicious.
Everyone knew.
It wasn’t explanation.
It was groundwork.
A story Daniel had apparently started telling before Thomas even died.
Rebecca’s voice trembled.
“There’s another paragraph.”
“Read it.”
She took a breath.
“My father wrote, ‘If Daniel tries to take the company after I’m gone, check the warehouse acquisition on Route 18. That is where I found proof of what he was doing.’”
Marcus stopped typing.
“Route 18?”
“Yes.”
He turned to me.
“Prescott Logistics still owns a warehouse on Route 18.”
I knew it.
One of the oldest properties in the company.
Daniel had insisted we never sell it even though the facility was outdated.
He always said it had sentimental value.
Now I wondered whether sentiment had anything to do with it.
“What proof?”
I asked.
Rebecca kept reading.
“He doesn’t say exactly.”
“Anything else?”
“There are six pages.”
“Photograph them.”
“I will.”
Then Rebecca stopped.
“What?”
“There’s handwriting at the bottom.”
“Different handwriting?”
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
“I don’t know.”
She read:
“T.B. never understood what D.P. was capable of. Keep the ledger hidden.”
Marcus looked up.
“Ledger?”
Nina whispered.
“That could be transaction records.”
Rebecca turned the page.
“There’s a date.”
“What date?”
She read it.
The day before Thomas died.
My skin prickled.
“Who wrote that?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Rebecca gasped.
“What?”
“There’s an initial.”
“What initial?”
“M.”
I looked at Nina.
“Melissa?”
Nina frowned.
“Could be.”
Daniel’s sister had been receiving money.
But eleven years earlier, she had also worked briefly at Bell Freight.
I remembered Daniel mentioning it once.
He had called it a summer job.
Maybe it hadn’t been so simple.
“Rebecca, take photos now.”
“I am.”
“And send them to me, Nina, and Marcus.”
“Okay.”
Then I heard another voice near Rebecca.
A police officer.
She spoke to him briefly.
When she came back, her voice had changed.
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“They found something in the garage.”
“What?”
“Blood.”
My entire body went rigid.
“Fresh?”
“I don’t know.”
“Whose?”
“They’re testing it.”
Marcus stood.
“Ask whether there are security cameras.”
I relayed the question.
Rebecca spoke with the officer.
Then returned.
“There’s a camera over the garage.”
“Did Daniel know?”
“No.”
“Good.”
A few minutes later, Rebecca ended the call because officers needed her statement.
I stared at the table.
This had moved beyond infidelity.
Beyond theft.
Beyond corporate fraud.
There was now a break-in, missing boxes, blood, and an eleven-year-old letter warning about Daniel.
Nina finally said what none of us wanted to say.
“We need to separate facts from fear.”
I nodded.
“She’s right,” Marcus said.
“We do not know whose blood that is.”
“Could be Daniel’s from the broken glass.”
“Exactly.”
I appreciated that.
I didn’t want to become someone who filled every unknown space with the worst possible answer.
But then Marcus opened another record.
“What now?”
He turned the screen.
The Route 18 warehouse had a basement level.
That wasn’t unusual.
What was unusual was that it did not appear on the current property diagrams.
“Why is it missing?”
Marcus shook his head.
“The original purchase file lists lower-level storage.”
“Current building plans?”
“Removed.”
“Who authorized the revision?”
He checked.
Then looked at me.
“Daniel.”
Nina leaned forward.
“When?”
“Six months after Thomas died.”
My pulse accelerated.
“Can we access the building?”
“You control the company.”
“Yes.”
“Then legally, company counsel can inspect company property.”
I stood.
“Let’s go.”
Nina immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel just broke a door trying to get records.”
“Then we bring security.”
“Claire—”
“I’m not waiting for him to remove whatever is left.”
Marcus nodded.
“She has a point.”
Nina looked between us.
“If we do this, we document everything. Security present. Building manager present. No touching anything until it is photographed.”
“Fine.”
Two hours later, we arrived at the Route 18 warehouse.
It sat twenty miles outside the city, surrounded by acres of asphalt and old loading bays.
The facility manager, Frank, met us at the entrance.
He looked confused.
“Mrs. Prescott?”
“Claire is fine.”
“I wasn’t told you were coming.”
“That was intentional.”
His face became nervous.
We entered.
The warehouse smelled like cardboard, oil, and dust.
“Where’s the basement?”
Frank frowned.
“There is no basement.”
Marcus pulled out the original floor plan.
“There was.”
Frank looked at it.
“I’ve managed this property seven years. I’ve never seen that.”
We walked toward the rear storage section.
According to the old plans, a stairwell should have been behind a maintenance room.
Instead, we found shelving.
Heavy shelving.
Bolted to the floor.
Marcus stared at it.
“That wasn’t original.”
Frank looked uncomfortable.
“No.”
“When was it installed?”
“Before my time.”
Security moved the shelving after maintenance disconnected the bolts.
Behind it was a wall.
At first, it looked ordinary.
Then Marcus touched the edge.
“This is drywall over something.”
We brought in the building engineer.
Twenty minutes later, he found a sealed doorway behind the wall.
Nina photographed everything.
We opened it.
A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
Frank whispered, “What the hell?”
Nobody answered.
We went down.
The air smelled stale.
At the bottom was a small storage room.
Metal shelves.
Old boxes.
Broken furniture.
And one steel filing cabinet.
Locked.
Marcus examined it.
“There’s dust everywhere except around the handle.”
Someone had opened it recently.
I looked at Nina.
“Can we?”
She nodded.
“Company property, company cabinet. Document first.”
Security cut the lock.
Inside were ledgers.
Dozens of them.
Handwritten accounting books.
Invoices.
Printed bank records.
And a folder labeled:
T. BELL — PERSONAL.
Rebecca’s father.
My hands shook.
Marcus opened the first ledger.
He flipped several pages.
Then stopped.
“What?”
He turned it toward us.
Columns of payments.
Fake vendors.
Dates.
Amounts.
Initials.
D.P.
M.P.
Daniel Prescott.
Melissa Prescott.
The scheme went back more than a decade.
Nina whispered, “This could be everything.”
Then Marcus opened the folder.
Inside was a photograph.
Daniel.
Thomas.
Melissa.
And another man I had never seen.
On the back, someone had written:
THE FOUR OF US KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.
I read it twice.
“Who is the fourth man?”
Nobody knew.
Then Frank, the warehouse manager, stepped closer.
His face drained of color.
“I do.”
We all turned.
“You know him?”
Frank nodded slowly.
“I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Who is he?”
Frank swallowed.
“His name is Edward Sloan.”
Rebecca’s married surname.
I stared at him.
“Relation to Rebecca?”
Frank looked terrified.
“Her husband.”
My chest tightened.
Rebecca had never mentioned a husband.
“Ex-husband?”
Frank shook his head.
“No.”
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
“Then where is he?”
Frank looked at the photograph again.
“He disappeared.”
“When?”
“About six years ago.”
The same year Rebecca changed her name from Bell to Sloan.
“Was he reported missing?”
Frank nodded.
“And?”
“Never found.”
Nina looked at me.
I looked at Marcus.
Then he quietly reached deeper into the folder.
There was another document.
A handwritten note.
Three words.
EDWARD FOUND OUT.
Below that was a date.
The date Edward Sloan disappeared.
And below the date was one final line.
DANIEL WILL HANDLE IT.

PART 5 — THE MAN WHO DISAPPEARED

Nobody spoke.
The note sat on the table between us.
EDWARD FOUND OUT.
Then the date.
Then the final line.
DANIEL WILL HANDLE IT.
Frank took one step backward.
“I shouldn’t be here.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
His face had gone pale.
“Because if that note means what I think it means, then I’ve been working for the wrong people for seven years.”
Nina immediately stepped between Frank and the stairwell.
“Before anyone leaves, we document what was found and who was present.”
Frank swallowed.
“I’m not trying to run.”
“Good.”
Marcus photographed the note from several angles.
Then he carefully placed it inside a protective sleeve.
I stared at the photograph again.
Thomas Bell.
Daniel.
Melissa.
Edward Sloan.
Four people.
Three of them connected to financial records.
One of them missing.
“What did Edward find out?” I asked.
Frank shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“You knew him.”
“A little.”
“How?”
“He used to come here.”
My eyes narrowed.
“To this warehouse?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Years ago. Before I became manager, I worked nights here.”
That surprised me.
“You were here before you were promoted?”
Frank nodded.
“Loading supervisor.”
Marcus closed the cabinet drawer.
“Then tell us everything you remember.”
Frank looked toward the stairs like he wanted to escape.
Then he slowly sat on an old crate.
“Edward started coming around maybe eight years ago.”
“That would be before he disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“Was he working for Prescott Logistics?”
“No.”
“Bell Freight?”
“No.”
“Then why was he here?”
Frank hesitated.
“Rebecca.”
My heart tightened.
“He came because of Rebecca?”
“He was trying to understand what happened to her father.”
Marcus and Nina exchanged a look.
“Did Rebecca know?” I asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Edward said she didn’t want to hear anything bad about Daniel.”
That made sense in a terrible way.
Daniel had positioned himself as Rebecca’s protector after Thomas died.
If Edward started questioning him, Rebecca may have defended Daniel.
Frank continued.
“Edward believed Thomas had hidden records somewhere in the warehouse.”
“The ledgers?”
“Maybe.”
“Did he find them?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said he came here repeatedly.”
“He did.”
“How often?”
“Every few weeks at first. Then more often.”
“What was he looking for?”
“Old invoices. Shipment logs. Maintenance records. Anything from the Bell Freight years.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“Did Daniel know?”
Frank looked at him.
“Yes.”
The room went still.
“How?”
“Daniel confronted Edward here once.”
“When?”
“About six years ago.”
The year Edward disappeared.
I felt a chill move through me.
“What happened?”
Frank rubbed his palms against his jeans.
“They argued.”
“About?”
“I couldn’t hear everything.”
“Tell us what you did hear.”
Frank looked directly at me.
“Edward told Daniel he had proof.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind of proof?”
“He didn’t say.”
“And Daniel?”
“He told Edward to stop digging.”
Marcus asked, “Exact words?”
Frank closed his eyes as if replaying the memory.
“Something like, ‘You have a family now. Think about Rebecca before you make a mistake.’”
Nina whispered, “That sounds like intimidation.”
Frank nodded.
“That’s how it sounded to me.”
“What did Edward say?”
Frank looked at the floor.
“He said, ‘You should have thought about Rebecca before you stole from her father.’”
My pulse jumped.
So Edward knew about the theft.
Maybe not all of it.
But enough.
“What happened after that?” I asked.
“Daniel left.”
“And Edward?”
“He stayed for another hour.”
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see him after that?”
Frank slowly nodded.
“Once.”
“When?”
“The night before he disappeared.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“What was he doing here?”
“He came after midnight.”
“Why?”
“He had keys.”
“Who gave them to him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Frank’s voice dropped.
“He told me if anybody asked, I never saw him.”
Marcus stopped writing.
“That’s important.”
“I know.”
“Did you tell police?”
Frank looked ashamed.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Daniel questioned me first.”
I stared at him.
“Before police?”
“Yes.”
“How did Daniel even know Edward had been here?”
Frank shook his head.
“I never figured that out.”
“What did he say to you?”
Frank’s eyes hardened.
“He told me Edward was unstable. Said Edward had been stealing company information.”
The same pattern.
Thomas was unstable.
Edward was unstable.
Every person who challenged Daniel somehow became unstable.
Frank continued.
“Daniel told me if police came asking questions, I should tell them Edward had threatened the company.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Frank looked sick.
“Because I had two kids and a mortgage. Daniel was CEO. I thought Edward had probably just run away.”
Nina asked, “Was there an official investigation?”
“Briefly.”
“Did police search this warehouse?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Daniel told them Edward had no legitimate connection to the company.”
I looked around the basement.
A hidden room.
Old ledgers.
A photograph.
A note dated the day Edward disappeared.
If Edward had been looking for this place, maybe he had found it.
Maybe Daniel knew.
“Frank,” I said, “did Edward ever mention a ledger?”
His expression changed.
Just slightly.
But I caught it.
“You’ve heard that word before.”
Frank looked at me.
Then at Marcus.
Then Nina.
Finally he nodded.
“Yes.”
“From who?”
“Edward.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me Thomas kept a second ledger.”
Marcus immediately leaned forward.
“Second?”
“Yes.”
“The books here are one set?”
“Apparently.”
“What was in the other one?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where was it?”
Frank’s voice dropped.
“Edward believed Thomas hid it somewhere Daniel couldn’t access.”
“Where?”
“He didn’t know.”
I thought of Thomas’s letter.
KEEP THE LEDGER HIDDEN.
Maybe the handwritten note Rebecca found referred to that second ledger.
Maybe Thomas had created a complete record of whatever Daniel had been doing.
“What did Edward believe was in it?”
Frank hesitated.
“Payments.”
“What kind?”
“He said money wasn’t just being stolen.”
A cold feeling settled in my stomach.
“What else?”
“People were being paid.”
“For what?”
Frank shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Marcus asked, “Employees?”
“Maybe. Vendors. Inspectors. Contractors.”
Nina crossed her arms.
“That expands this considerably.”
I looked back at the cabinet.
“Search everything.”
For the next hour, we documented every item in the basement.
Old invoices.
Bank statements.
Vendor contracts.
Handwritten notes.
Several folders were empty.
Not accidentally empty.
Labels remained.
Contents missing.
One was marked:
SLOAN.
Another:
ROUTE 18 INCIDENT.
And another:
M.P. PAYMENTS.
Melissa.
I could feel Daniel’s family moving from annoying spectators in my marriage to something much darker.
Melissa hadn’t just benefited recently.
Her initials appeared in records stretching back years.
Then Marcus opened a narrow drawer at the bottom of the cabinet.
Inside was a small digital voice recorder.
Old.
Dust-covered.
Frank stared at it.
“I remember those.”
“You’ve seen it before?”
“Thomas used them constantly.”
Marcus did not touch it immediately.
He photographed it first.
Then, wearing gloves, he removed it.
“Battery will probably be dead.”
It was.
But the memory card was still inside.
“We can copy this.”
Nina nodded.
“Do it properly.”
We brought everything upstairs.
By then, an outside forensic team had arrived.
The basement was sealed.
The cabinet was inventoried.
Every document was logged.
I refused to allow anything to disappear again.
At 6:14 p.m., Rebecca called.
Her voice sounded exhausted.
“The police finished at the house.”
“Did they find Daniel?”
“No.”
“What about the blood?”
“They think it was his.”
“From the broken glass?”
“Probably.”
I exhaled.
At least that mystery had an ordinary explanation.
Then she asked:
“Did you find something at the warehouse?”
I looked at Nina.
She nodded.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Your husband.”
Silence.
“What about Edward?”
“We found evidence he was investigating Daniel before he disappeared.”
Rebecca started crying quietly.
I hated being the person telling her this.
“Rebecca.”
“I knew he didn’t leave me.”
“What?”
“Everyone said he ran away.”
“Who?”
“Daniel. Police. Even some of Edward’s friends eventually.”
“Why did they believe it?”
“Because his car was found at the airport.”
Marcus looked up sharply.
“Airport?”
“Yes.”
“Which airport?”
She told us.
Marcus wrote it down.
Rebecca continued.
“His wallet was gone. His passport too.”
“That would make it look like he traveled.”
“That’s what everyone thought.”
“But?”
“His passport was found three years later.”
My skin prickled.
“Where?”
“In my mother’s attic.”
Nobody spoke.
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said.
“I know.”
“Did your mother explain?”
“She said she had never seen it before.”
“When did she find it?”
“After a roof leak. She was clearing boxes.”
“Did you tell police?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“They added it to the file.”
“And still concluded he left voluntarily?”
“They said there wasn’t enough evidence to say otherwise.”
Marcus asked, “Was the passport used after Edward disappeared?”
“No.”
That mattered.
If Edward had supposedly fled the country but never used his passport, the airport story became weaker.
“Rebecca, did Edward have another passport?”
“No.”
“Did he have money?”
“Not much.”
“Credit cards?”
“They were never used again.”
Marcus looked at me.
“Classic disappearance staging is possible.”
Nina immediately said, “Possible. Not proven.”
Marcus nodded.
“Right.”
Rebecca heard enough.
“Are you saying Daniel did something to Edward?”
“No,” I said carefully.
“We don’t know that.”
“But you’re thinking it.”
“I’m thinking Edward knew things Daniel didn’t want exposed.”
Rebecca was silent.
Then:
“There’s something I never told police.”
Nina leaned closer.
“What?”
“The night Edward disappeared, he left me a voicemail.”
“Do you still have it?”
“Yes.”
My heart jumped.
“After six years?”
“I saved everything.”
“What did he say?”
Rebecca took a shaky breath.
“I couldn’t understand it at the time.”
“Play it.”
A few seconds later, static filled the speaker.
Then Edward’s voice.
Low.
Breathless.
“Rebecca, I need you to listen to me. If I don’t come home tonight, do not call Daniel. Do you hear me? Do not call Daniel.”
Static.
Then:
“I found what your father hid.”
My whole body tightened.
More static.
Then Edward:
“It’s worse than theft.”
The recording crackled.
A noise in the background.
Something metallic.
Then Edward whispered:
“Someone’s here.”
The voicemail ended.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Marcus finally asked:
“Do you know where he was?”
“No.”
“Any background sounds you recognize?”
“No.”
“Send us the original file.”
“I will.”
Then Rebecca started crying again.
“I called Daniel anyway.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“That night. I panicked. Edward said not to call Daniel, but Daniel was the person I trusted.”
I closed my eyes.
“What did Daniel do?”
“He came to my house.”
“How quickly?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Did he seem surprised?”
Rebecca paused.
“No.”
Marcus looked at Nina.
“What did he say?”
Rebecca’s voice trembled.
“He said Edward had been acting strange for weeks.”
Of course.
“He told me Edward probably left because he had debts.”
“Did Edward have debts?”
“No.”
“What did Daniel do next?”
“He stayed with me all night.”
That caught my attention.
“From what time?”
“Around one in the morning until sunrise.”
Marcus frowned.
“So Daniel had an alibi for part of the night.”
“Provided by Rebecca,” Nina said.
“Who had called him.”
Rebecca whispered:
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“At sunrise, Daniel left.”
“Why?”
“He said he had an emergency at the warehouse.”
I stared toward the sealed stairwell.
“What time?”
“About six.”
“Did he tell you which warehouse?”
“No.”
Frank suddenly spoke from across the room.
“Six?”
I turned.
“What?”
Frank looked terrified again.
“Daniel came here that morning.”
My blood went cold.
“You saw him?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“Around six-thirty.”
Exactly.
“What was he doing?”
“He said there had been a break-in.”
“Was there?”
“I never saw damage.”
“Was anyone with him?”
Frank hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t know him.”
“Describe him.”
Frank thought for a moment.
“Tall. Gray coat. Dark hair. Maybe forty.”
Marcus turned the old photograph around.
“The fourth man?”
“No.”
“Anyone else?”
Frank shook his head.
Then he pointed at Daniel in the photograph.
“Daniel told me to unload something from his SUV.”
The room went silent.
“What?”
Frank swallowed.
“A large metal case.”
“How large?”
“About four feet long.”
My heart started pounding.
“What was inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did you put it?”
Frank looked toward the old loading section.
“There was an incinerator here back then.”
Rebecca made a sound on the phone.
Not a scream.
Something worse.
A broken inhale.
Nina immediately said:
“We are not assuming anything.”
But Frank was shaking now.
“Daniel told me it contained destroyed company equipment.”
“What happened to the case?”
“I helped him wheel it toward the disposal room.”
“And then?”
“He told me to leave.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever see the case again?”
“No.”
Marcus stood.
“Where was the incinerator?”
Frank pointed toward the east wing.
“It was removed five years ago.”
“What happened to the floor underneath it?”
Frank thought.
“Concrete was poured over that section.”
“Who ordered it?”
His answer came quietly.
“Daniel.”
I felt every person in the room understand the same thing.
Still, Nina spoke first.
“We need law enforcement now.”
Not tomorrow.
Not after another audit.
Now.
Because if there was even a possibility that the disposal room contained evidence connected to Edward Sloan’s disappearance, touching anything ourselves would be a terrible mistake.
Marcus called the detective number Rebecca had provided from the missing-person case.
I walked outside while he spoke.
The sun was setting behind the warehouse.
My phone buzzed.
Daniel.
For the first time all day, I answered.
“Claire.”
He sounded tired.
“You went to Route 18.”
Not a question.
I looked back toward the building.
“How do you know?”
“I know my company.”
“Our company.”
“Not for long.”
“What does that mean?”
“You think freezing accounts makes you powerful?”
“No.”
“You think digging through dead people’s paperwork makes you smart?”
My pulse slowed.
He knew.
Too much.
“Were you watching the warehouse?”
Silence.
“Daniel?”
“You need to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because that building isn’t safe.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m warning you.”
“About the building?”
Another silence.
“Or about what’s underneath it?”
His breathing stopped.
There.
That tiny reaction.
“You found the room,” he whispered.
I looked through the glass doors toward Marcus.
“Which room?”
Daniel realized his mistake.
“Claire.”
“You just confirmed you knew about it.”
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“Maybe not.”
I lowered my voice.
“But the ledgers might.”
He said nothing.
“And Edward Sloan?”
Still nothing.
“What happened to him?”
His answer came almost too softly to hear.
“Edward should have left it alone.”
My blood went cold.
“What did you just say?”
Daniel breathed out.
Then the line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Thirty seconds later, another message arrived.
Not from Daniel.
From Rebecca.
An image.
A photograph of the final page of Thomas Bell’s letter.
I opened it.
The handwriting was shaky.
But clear.
IF DANIEL EVER CLAIMS I GAVE HIM THE COMPANY, HE IS LYING.
THE ORIGINAL OWNERSHIP DOCUMENTS ARE NOT AT ROUTE 18.
I HID THEM WITH THE ONE PERSON DANIEL WOULD NEVER SUSPECT.
Below that:
CLAIRE.
My name.
I stared at it.
Impossible.
Thomas Bell had died before I ever met Daniel.
Yet somehow, on a letter written eleven years ago, Thomas had written my name.
And underneath it was one final sentence:
SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHO SHE REALLY IS.

Click Here to continuous Read​​​​ Full Ending StoryPART 6 — WHY THOMAS KNEW MY NAME