Chapter 3: The Stranger Outside
I stared at the message until the words blurred.
DON’T ASK VANESSA ABOUT THE KEY. SHE DOESN’T KNOW SOPHIE STILL HAS IT.
Someone knew about Claire.
Someone knew about Sophie.
And whoever had filmed my daughter through the kitchen window had been close enough to hear her speak.
“Daddy?””
Sophie was still holding the tiny brass key.
I locked my phone and forced my face calm.
“Everything’s okay, bug.””
Mom looked at me.
She knew I was lying.
“Margaret,” I said, “can you stay with Sophie?””
“Where are you going?””
“Outside.””
Her face tightened.
“Ethan.””
“I’m not leaving the property.””
I stepped onto the back porch.
Cold air burned my lungs.
Our backyard was bordered by a wooden fence, with a narrow strip of trees beyond it. I walked toward the kitchen window.
The video had been recorded from an angle.
Not from the yard.
From behind the fence.
I opened the gate.
Wet leaves covered the ground.
Twenty feet into the trees, I found footprints in the mud.
Fresh enough to see the tread.
Then something pale caught my eye.
A business card.
No company name.
No address.
Only a handwritten number.
The same number that had sent the video.
I called.
One ring.
Two.
Someone answered.
Neither of us spoke.
Finally, I said, “Who are you?””
A man’s voice replied.
“You shouldn’t be outside.””
I spun around.
Nothing.
“Where are you?””
“Go back inside.””
“You recorded my daughter.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because nobody believed Claire.””
My stomach dropped.
“You knew my wife?””
A pause.
“Better than you knew the last few months of her life.””
Anger exploded through me.
“Tell me your name.””
“Not yet.””
“You’re filming my child through windows and sending me threats.””
“That wasn’t a threat.””
“Then what was it?””
“A warning.””
“About Vanessa?””
Silence.
“Answer me.””
“Did Sophie show you the key?””
I looked toward the house.
“How do you know about it?””
“Claire told me.””
“Who are you?””
The man exhaled.
“My name is Daniel Mercer.””
The name meant nothing.
“Was Claire having an affair with you?””
He gave a short, stunned laugh.
“No.””
“Then how did you know her?””
“I was her private investigator.””
Everything inside me went still.
“My wife hired a private investigator?””
“Eight months before she died.””
“For what?””
Daniel paused.
“For your sister.””
I leaned against the fence.
“What was Claire investigating?””
“She believed Vanessa was taking money.””
“From Claire?””
“No.””
“From me?””
“No.””
“Then from who?””
Daniel’s voice lowered.
“From Sophie.””
I almost laughed.
“She was three.””
“That didn’t matter.””
“What money?””
“You need to find what the key opens.””
“You already know.””
“I know what Claire suspected.””
“That isn’t good enough.””
“It has to be.””
I clenched my jaw.
“Why?””
“Because Vanessa knows I exist.””
I looked back toward the house.
“Does she know you contacted me?””
“No.””
“Then meet me.””
“That’s dangerous.””
“For who?””
“For Sophie.””
I hated the way he said her name.
Quietly.
Seriously.
“Daniel.””
“Yes?””
“If you know my daughter is in danger, you tell me everything right now.””
“I tried telling you once.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“Last year. Hospital parking garage. Claire was undergoing treatment.””
A memory surfaced.
A man approaching me near my truck.
Dark jacket.
Baseball cap.
He had asked if I was Ethan Cole.
I had been exhausted and furious after Claire’s oncologist changed her treatment.
I’d told him to leave me alone.
“That was you?””
“Yes.””
“Why didn’t you say who you were?””
“Claire stopped me.””
“Why?””
“Because she saw Vanessa.””
My mouth went dry.
Daniel continued.
“Claire believed that if Vanessa realized you knew, she’d move whatever she was hiding.””
I rubbed my face.
“This sounds insane.””
“That’s exactly what Claire said you’d think.””
The words hurt.
Behind me, the back door opened.
Mom called, “Ethan?””
“I have to go.””
“Wait.””
“What?””
“Check Claire’s rabbit.””
I frowned.
“Sophie’s stuffed rabbit?””
“It wasn’t originally Sophie’s.””
The call ended.
I walked inside.
Sophie sat at the kitchen table drinking milk.
The stuffed rabbit lay beside her.
I picked it up.
“Daddy?””
“Daniel said this belonged to Mommy.””
Sophie nodded.
“She gave it to me at the hospital.””
I remembered.
Claire had been weak that day.
Sophie had climbed onto her hospital bed, and Claire had handed her the rabbit.
I had assumed it was a gift.
Mom touched its worn ear.
“Claire had this as a teenager.””
I examined the hidden zipper.
The compartment where Sophie kept the key was empty now.
But my fingers felt something stiff beneath the lining.
I carefully turned the fabric outward.
A small plastic tag had been sewn inside.
Stamped into it were three numbers.
317.
Mom whispered, “A locker?””
“Maybe.””
Sophie suddenly covered her mouth.
“What?””
She looked frightened.
“Sweetheart, what is it?””
“Aunt Vanessa asked about the bunny.””
“When?””
“Yesterday.””
My pulse jumped.
“What did she ask?””
Sophie lowered her voice.
“She asked if Mommy put anything inside.””
Mom and I exchanged a look.
“What did you say?””
“I said no.””
“Did she believe you?””
Sophie shook her head.
“She took Bunny.””
My chest tightened.
“What did she do?””
“She squeezed him.””
“Then what?””
“I cried.””
Sophie’s eyes filled.
“So she gave him back.””
I kissed her forehead.
“You did nothing wrong.””
My phone buzzed.
Daniel again.
This time it was a photograph.
A row of private storage lockers.
Beneath it:
CENTRAL STATION. LOWER LEVEL.
I typed:
317?
His reply came immediately.
I DON’T KNOW. CLAIRE NEVER TOLD ME THE NUMBER.
I looked at Mom.
“I know what the key opens.””
Twenty minutes later, Mom stayed with Sophie while I drove downtown.
Central Station was crowded.
Locker 317 stood near the end of a narrow corridor.
My hand shook as I inserted the brass key.
It turned.
Inside was a small black case.
Nothing else.
I carried it to a bench and opened it.
There was no money.
No jewelry.
No letter.
Only an old digital voice recorder.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then Claire’s voice filled my ears.
“If Ethan is hearing this, then I’m gone.””
I closed my eyes.
Her voice.
God.
Her voice.
“I’m sorry,” Claire continued.
“I wanted to tell you. But I needed proof first.””
My fingers tightened around the recorder.
Then she said the sentence that made my blood run cold.
“Vanessa isn’t the person I’m most afraid of.””
A door slammed somewhere behind me.
I turned.
At the far end of the corridor stood a man in a dark coat.
Watching me.
Claire’s recording continued.
“If Sophie still has the key, Ethan, then Vanessa failed.””
May you like
The man started walking toward me.
“And if Vanessa failed,” Claire whispered, “the person she was working for will come looking for you.””
