Chapter 2 - The Papers in the Drawer
“Who sent that?”
Daniel reached for his phone.
I grabbed it first.
The message filled the screen beneath three earlier texts from the same number.
KEEP HER AWAY FROM THE STORAGE UNIT.
YOU HAD YOUR CHANCE TO FIX THIS.
SHE MUST NOT REMEMBER WHAT YOU DID.
“Rachel, give me the phone.”
“Who is threatening you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I blocked two other numbers this week. Whoever it is keeps changing them.”
I backed away, holding the phone against my chest.
“Why didn’t you tell the police?”
“Because the messages started after your accident, and I didn’t know whether they were a cruel joke or connected to what happened.”
“What happened in the storage unit?”
Daniel went still.
The hesitation answered me.
“There is a storage unit.”
“Yes.”
“What’s inside?”
“Records from your company.”
I remembered Bennett Creative Group. I had founded the marketing agency six years earlier with savings from my first corporate job. I remembered signing our first major client and hiring our first employee.
Everything after that was fog.
“Why are my company records in storage?”
“Because you moved them there after discovering discrepancies in the accounts.”
“What discrepancies?”
“Money was missing.”
“How much?”
“Almost two hundred thousand dollars.”
My knees weakened. I lowered myself onto a kitchen stool.
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
“But I thought you did.”
Daniel said nothing.
The silence was confirmation.
I looked at the divorce papers. “That’s why I wanted to leave you.”
“You believed I had been hiding financial information from you.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
The word landed between us like broken glass.
Daniel slowly sat across from me.
“I found irregular transfers from your business account,” he said. “The money moved through three consulting companies. One was registered to a post-office box. I traced the payments, but before I could explain, you found a bank statement in my desk.”
“What was on it?”
“Payments I had made to cover part of the missing amount.”
“Why would you secretly replace stolen money?”
“Because I knew who had taken it.”
A car door slammed outside.
Daniel turned toward the front window.
Seconds later, someone knocked hard on the front door.
“Rachel?” a woman called. “Rachel, it’s me.”
I knew that voice.
“Natalie.”
Relief rushed through me so powerfully that I almost cried.
I hurried into the foyer before Daniel could stop me. My sister stood on the porch with a suitcase, her blond hair damp from the rain. I remembered the tiny scar near her eyebrow from when we were children. I remembered sharing a bedroom with her and calling her after every bad college date.
When I opened the door, she wrapped me in her arms.
“Oh, thank God.”
For the first time since waking, I was held by someone I remembered.
I clung to her.
Natalie pulled back and examined the bruise near my temple. Then she saw Daniel behind me.
Her expression hardened.
“You shouldn’t be alone with him.”
Daniel’s voice was controlled. “She isn’t alone. Her parents were here earlier.”
“They should have stayed.”
“Natalie,” I said, “do you know why I wanted a divorce?”
She looked at Daniel again.
“He hasn’t told you?”
“He said money disappeared from my company.”
Her face paled.
Daniel stepped closer. “Rachel needs rest.”
“She needs the truth.”
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
Natalie took my hand and led me into the living room. Daniel remained standing.
“Your marriage had become controlling,” Natalie said. “Daniel monitored your accounts, questioned where you went, and kept secrets. You stopped trusting him.”
“Did he steal from my company?”
“I don’t know. You suspected he had.”
Daniel’s mouth tightened.
“Tell her the rest,” he said.
Natalie stared at him.
“What rest?” I asked.
Daniel’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and answered immediately.
“Detective Holloway.”
He listened, his expression becoming increasingly tense.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Don’t touch anything. I’ll be there.”
He ended the call.
“The storage unit was broken into,” he said. “The financial files are gone.”
Natalie’s fingers tightened around mine.
Daniel noticed.
“Did the security camera record anything?” I asked.
“The camera was disabled.”
“So whoever sent those messages knew about the unit.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Natalie. “Did you know?”
She released my hand.
“I knew you rented one. You mentioned it before the accident.”
Daniel picked up his coat.
“I need to meet the detective.”
“I’m coming with you,” I said.
“No.”
The sharpness of his answer startled me.
He softened his voice. “You were discharged today.”
“These are my records.”
“And somebody may have forced you off the road to keep you from using them.”
Natalie stood. “You never told us the police suspected that.”
“They didn’t—not until now.”
“I’m still coming,” I said.
Daniel looked at me for several seconds. Something in his expression shifted. Perhaps he remembered that arguing with me never worked.
“Stay beside me,” he said.
Natalie insisted on joining us.
The storage facility sat near an industrial section north of downtown. Detective Lena Holloway met us outside Unit 314. She was a compact woman in her forties with sharp eyes and a rain-spotted coat.
The lock had been cut. Metal filing cabinets stood open inside. Papers covered the floor, but every folder labeled with a company name was missing.
A crime-scene technician photographed a muddy shoe print near the door.
Holloway looked at me. “Do you remember renting this unit?”
“No.”
“Do you recognize these?”
She held up a set of keys sealed inside an evidence bag. A small silver charm hung from the ring.
It was shaped like a compass.
My mind flashed.
A woman’s hand passing me the keys.
A voice saying, If Daniel learns what we did, everything is over.
Pain exploded behind my eyes.
I grabbed Daniel’s arm before I realized what I was doing. He steadied me but did not pull me closer.
“What did you remember?” Holloway asked.
“A voice. A woman.”
Natalie’s face was unreadable.
The detective showed me a photograph recovered from the floor. It pictured Daniel outside a hotel with a woman whose face was hidden by a hood. A date was printed at the bottom—one month before the accident.
“Was this why you contacted a divorce lawyer?” Holloway asked.
“I don’t know.”
Natalie moved beside me. “Rachel thought Daniel was having an affair.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Were you?” I demanded.
“No.”
“Who is the woman?”
He looked at Natalie.
My sister stepped backward.
“Tell her,” Daniel said.
Natalie’s voice turned cold. “This isn’t the place.”
“Tell me what?”
Daniel pointed to the photograph.
“The woman beside me was Natalie.”
I stared at them.
My husband—the man I could not remember—had secretly met my sister at a hotel.
Natalie still had hold of my hand.
May you like
Suddenly, her touch no longer felt comforting.
It felt like a lock closing around my wrist.
