Chapter 4 - A Marriage Built on Missing Pages
Victor Lawson smiled when I opened the door.
That was the first thing I hated about him.
Not because smiling was inappropriate.
Because his expression said he had already decided how our conversation would end.
“Claire Mercer?”
“Who are you?”
His smile widened slightly.
“Victor Lawson.”
I pretended the name meant nothing.
“Should I know you?”
Behind me, I sensed Lauren stiffen.
Victor glanced past my shoulder.
His smile disappeared.
“Lauren.”
She crossed her arms.
“Victor.”
“Interesting evening.”
“You have no idea.”
His eyes shifted toward Margaret.
“Mrs. Mercer.”
Margaret didn't respond.
Victor looked back at me.
“I was hoping Daniel was here.”
“He isn't.”
“Do you know where he went?”
“No.”
True enough.
Victor studied my face.
People like him weren't accustomed to listening to words.
They listened to hesitation.
Breathing.
Eye movement.
I gave him nothing.
“May I come in?”
“No.”
His eyebrows rose.
“My husband is missing, I've discovered another woman in my home, and you're a stranger standing on my porch at midnight. You'll forgive me if I'm not feeling hospitable.”
Lauren almost smiled.
Victor slipped one hand into his coat pocket.
Margaret moved immediately.
He noticed.
Slowly, he removed only a business card.
“Call me when Daniel returns.”
I took it.
“Why?”
“He owes me money.”
“How much?”
Victor paused.
“Enough.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means your husband made promises he can't currently fulfill.”
“His business problem?”
Victor's eyes sharpened.
I had given him something.
He knew I knew more than Daniel wanted.
I corrected quickly.
“Daniel has mentioned financial pressure.”
Victor relaxed.
“Then you understand.”
“No. I don't.”
“Understand what?”
“Why you're coming to my home after midnight.”
He smiled again.
“Fair point.”
He turned to leave.
Lauren spoke.
“Victor.”
He stopped.
“Where's Daniel?”
Victor looked over his shoulder.
“If I knew, would I be standing here?”
Lauren's expression told me she didn't believe him.
Neither did I.
Victor walked toward his SUV.
Then he paused beside my suitcase, still partially hidden near the hedge.
His eyes lowered.
My blood froze.
He looked from the suitcase toward me.
He knew I had just arrived.
Maybe that meant nothing.
Maybe everything.
Victor drove away.
The moment his taillights disappeared, Lauren shut the door.
“He knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That something went wrong.”
Margaret asked, “Why are you afraid of him?”
Lauren laughed bitterly.
“Because unlike Daniel, Victor doesn't pretend to be harmless.”
I looked at her.
“What aren't you telling us?”
She paced toward the living room.
“Lawson helped Daniel refinance Westbridge after the bank refused.”
“Legally?”
“Some of it.”
“And the rest?”
“Daniel moved assets.”
“My assets.”
Lauren looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“Why did you help?”
“Because by the time I understood what he'd done, my name was already on filings.”
“You're an attorney.”
“I know exactly what I am.”
“Then you knew exactly what you risked.”
She turned toward me.
“You think I don't wake up every morning knowing that?”
“I don't care how you sleep.”
That silenced her.
Margaret said quietly, “Claire.”
“No. She doesn't get sympathy because the crime became inconvenient.”
Lauren's eyes flashed.
“You're right.”
I hadn't expected that.
She continued.
“I deserve whatever happens professionally.”
“And personally?”
Her expression softened.
“Probably worse.”
I stared at her.
“Why Daniel?”
She sat down.
“That question matters to you?”
“Yes.”
I hated that it did.
Lauren looked toward our overturned wedding photograph.
“It started last year.”
“How?”
“He called about property documents.”
“Romantic.”
“He complained about the marriage.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
“That you were distant.”
I laughed.
Lauren continued.
“That everything became practical. Schedules. Work. Bills. He said you stopped seeing him.”
I thought about the last year.
My promotions.
Daniel's long hours.
My grief still resurfacing around my mother's birthday.
Weekend plans canceled because of his business.
Quiet dinners.
Separate routines.
There had been distance.
But distance wasn't permission.
“He told me you wanted different lives,” Lauren said.
“And you believed him.”
“I wanted to.”
That might have been the most honest thing Lauren had said.
“Did you love him?”
She hesitated.
“No.”
“Did he love you?”
A sad smile.
“No.”
“Then what was it?”
“Two selfish people making each other feel important.”
For the first time, Lauren sounded human.
I almost wished she hadn't.
Hating someone is easier when they remain a caricature.
Margaret walked toward the kitchen.
“I’m making coffee.”
It was after midnight, but none of us were sleeping.
I retrieved my suitcase.
When I returned, Lauren had placed our wedding photograph upright again.
I noticed.
She noticed me noticing.
Neither of us spoke.
Margaret returned carrying mugs.
“What's our next move?”
Our.
Strange word.
Twenty-four hours earlier, my life contained a husband.
Now my war room contained his mother and his mistress.
“We need to understand the flash drive.”
Lauren nodded.
“And whoever is texting Claire.”
Margaret looked at me.
“Someone is texting you?”
I hesitated.
Then showed them.
Lauren read the messages.
“Could be Daniel.”
“Why warn me against himself?”
“Could be manipulation.”
Margaret shook her head.
“Daniel was upstairs when the first message arrived?”
“Yes.”
“Then probably not.”
Lauren asked, “Victor?”
“He warned me about Victor.”
“Could still be Victor trying to isolate you.”
That was true.
Every possibility seemed believable.
Which meant none were useful.
We spent three hours reviewing the flash drive.
The deeper we went, the less Daniel looked like the mastermind.
He looked like something almost as dangerous.
A desperate participant.
Documents showed that Westbridge's financial trouble began eighteen months earlier.
Victor Lawson's companies loaned Daniel $2.8 million at brutal interest rates.
When Daniel couldn't repay, Victor began controlling decisions.
But one email bothered me.
From Daniel to Victor:
Claire doesn't know. Keep it that way.
Victor replied:
Then make sure she stays useful.
I read the phrase three times.
Useful.
Was that how my husband viewed me?
An asset?
A signature?
A beneficiary designation?
Another folder revealed something unexpected.
Emails from Lauren to Daniel warning him.
This transfer is fraudulent without Claire's direct authorization.
I will not notarize another document unless she appears personally.
Victor is asking questions about her insurance coverage. This has gone too far.
I looked at Lauren.
“You warned him?”
“Yes.”
“Then why were you still here?”
She stared into her coffee.
“Because I was weak.”
Not flattering.
Probably true.
Another email dated two weeks ago:
Lauren: Tell Claire or I will.
Daniel replied:
Give me until the refinancing closes. After that I’ll fix everything.
She responded:
You cannot fix a forged signature.
I leaned back.
“So you were going to tell me.”
“I told myself I would.”
“That's different.”
“I know.”
At four thirty in the morning, Margaret fell asleep on the sofa.
Lauren sat across from me.
For several minutes, we said nothing.
Then she asked, “Did Daniel ever tell you about Chicago?”
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“What about Chicago?”
“Three years ago, before I knew him, his company settled a lawsuit involving a property investor.”
“Name?”
“Ethan Cole.”
I searched the flash drive.
Nothing.
“Why is that important?”
“Because Victor mentioned Ethan once.”
“When?”
“During a meeting.”
“What did he say?”
Lauren thought.
“He said Daniel should remember what happened to people who refused to cooperate.”
I felt cold.
“What happened to Ethan?”
“I don't know.”
I searched online.
Ethan Cole.
Atlanta investor.
Chicago relocation.
Several results.
One headline made me stop.
FORMER ATLANTA DEVELOPER KILLED IN INTERSTATE CRASH
Three years ago.
I turned the laptop toward Lauren.
She went pale.
Margaret woke.
“What?”
I showed her.
She read silently.
“Could be coincidence.”
“Maybe.”
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number again.
This time there was an image.
A photograph of Daniel.
He stood beside a highway rest area.
The timestamp was fifteen minutes earlier.
He was alive.
Underneath:
HE'S COMING BACK. MAKE HIM THINK YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ETHAN COLE.
I felt my heartbeat accelerate.
Then headlights appeared outside.
A car entered the driveway.
Daniel's car.
Lauren stood.
Margaret reached for her phone.
I stopped her.
“Wait.”
Daniel parked.
He sat inside for nearly a minute.
Then he walked toward the house.
His shirt was wrinkled.
There was dried blood along one sleeve.
When the door opened, he looked at all three of us.
Then his eyes found me.
“Claire.”
I stood.
“Where were you?”
Daniel locked the door behind him.
“With Victor.”
“Why is there blood on you?”
He looked at his sleeve as though he had forgotten it.
“It's not mine.”
Lauren whispered, “Whose?”
Daniel ignored her.
He walked directly toward me.
For the first time all night, I saw no arrogance.
No lies.
Only terror.
“Claire, listen carefully.”
“I'm done listening.”
“You need to.”
“Why?”
“Because we have to leave.”
“I'm not going anywhere with you.”
“Not with me. All of us.”
Margaret stood.
“Daniel, what happened?”
He looked toward the windows.
“Victor knows the transfer failed.”
“How?”
“Because Lauren didn't file it.”
Lauren's mouth opened.
Daniel turned toward her.
“He knows you betrayed him.”
She whispered, “I never worked for him.”
Daniel laughed harshly.
“You think that matters?”
I stepped closer.
“What did he do?”
Daniel looked at me.
Then at my phone.
“Has anyone contacted you?”
I didn't answer.
His face confirmed he knew something.
“Who is sending the messages, Daniel?”
He closed his eyes.
“I was hoping they hadn't found you.”
“They?”
He reached into his pocket.
He pulled out an old photograph.
Victor Lawson.
Daniel.
And Ethan Cole.
All three smiling.
Daniel placed it on the table.
“Ethan wasn't just an investor.”
Margaret whispered, “Who was he?”
Daniel looked at me.
“My partner.”
I pointed at the headline on the laptop.
“He died.”
Daniel's face collapsed.
“Yes.”
“Was it an accident?”
Silence.
Lauren stepped backward.
“Daniel?”
My husband looked at the photograph.
Then he said the sentence that changed the entire night again.
“I don't think so.”
Before anyone could respond, there was a loud crash from the basement.
We all turned.
Someone was inside the house.
May you like
And the back door I had entered through earlier was standing open.
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