Chương 4 - Twenty-Four Million Reasons
Julian recovered quickly.
“Mercer?”
“The person who kept calling you.”
“Oh.”
He smiled.
“Insurance consultant.”
The word insurance landed between us.
I pretended not to react.
“For work?”
“Client matter.”
He kissed my forehead.
“Come back to bed.”
I followed him.
But I didn't sleep.
The next morning, I gave Caleb the drive.
Two hours later, he called from a disposable phone.
“We found Mercer.”
“We?”
“A friend is helping me.”
“Who?”
“Someone I trust.”
I didn't like that answer, but there wasn't time to argue.
“Tell me.”
“Dr. Nathan Mercer. Former emergency physician. Lost his medical license eight years ago.”
“Why?”
“Prescription fraud and falsifying records.”
My stomach tightened.
“Rebecca?”
“He worked at the hospital where she died.”
“And signed her death certificate?”
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
“Accidental overdose.”
The room seemed to lose oxygen.
“Caleb.”
“I know.”
“No. Listen to me. Stop investigating from your own devices. Don't go home. Don't tell anyone where you are.”
“Mom—”
“Promise.”
He hesitated.
“I promise.”
I ended the call.
Then I did something I'd avoided for twenty-four hours.
I contacted the police.
Not local patrol.
A detective.
Elena Ruiz listened without interrupting while I described the call, the syringe, the policies, Rebecca, Mercer, and my father's note.
When I finished, she remained silent.
“Do you believe me?” I asked.
“I believe you're frightened.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
“I believe there are enough specific details to take this seriously.”
That was better.
She explained what I already feared.
Suspicion wasn't enough.
Search histories could have explanations.
Insurance paperwork could be disputed.
I hadn't photographed Julian holding the syringe.
Rebecca's death had been ruled accidental nearly two decades earlier.
But Detective Ruiz could begin quietly verifying records.
“Do not confront your husband.”
“I won't.”
“Do not attempt to gather evidence if doing so puts you at risk.”
I almost laughed.
My entire life had become evidence.
That afternoon, I received a delivery.
Flowers.
White roses.
From Julian.
The card read:
Fourteen years and I'd choose you again. — J
I sat at the kitchen table and cried.
Not because it was romantic.
Because I remembered our wedding.
Julian had cried when I walked down the aisle.
Or I thought he had.
Were those tears real?
Had any of it been real?
At six, Julian came home.
He cooked dinner.
He played music.
He opened wine.
I watched him move around our kitchen and wondered whether Rebecca had once watched him do the same thing.
Then he said something that stopped me.
“I increased your life insurance.”
I nearly dropped my fork.
“What?”
“Financial planning.”
He didn't look at me.
“We're getting older.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
I forced a laugh.
“That's ominous.”
He looked up.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
Silence.
Then he smiled.
“Twenty-four million.”
There it was.
He had told me.
Which meant the existence of the policies wasn't the secret.
“How generous.”
“It protects Caleb.”
“But you're the beneficiary.”
His fork stopped.
I had gone too far.
I smiled immediately.
“Then Caleb eventually, obviously.”
Julian stared at me.
“How did you know I'm the beneficiary?”
My mind went blank.
He had caught me.
Then I shrugged.
“You told me.”
“No.”
“Yes, you did.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
“I don't remember that.”
“Well, I do.”
His eyes remained on mine.
I lifted my wineglass.
“To being worth more dead than alive.”
Julian didn't laugh.
I did.
Eventually he smiled.
“To a very long life.”
Our glasses touched.
I didn't drink.
Later, while Julian showered, I received a message from Detective Ruiz.
We verified Mercer. Need to speak tomorrow. Urgent.
I deleted it.
Then another message appeared.
Caleb.
Mom. I found Rebecca's sister.
My heart accelerated.
Alive?
Yes.
Where?
His answer arrived.
Cleveland.
May you like
Rebecca's sister had been living less than fifteen miles from me for nine years.
And according to Caleb, she had spent those nine years waiting for someone from Julian Whitmore's family to finally come looking for her.
