Chapter 3 - DECEMBER SIXTH
I slept for forty-three minutes that night.
Not forty-three consecutive minutes.
Forty-three minutes total.
Elena booked us rooms at a hotel near the airport.
She refused to let me stay alone.
At 2:15 a.m., I was sitting on the edge of the bed watching the parking-garage video for the eighteenth time.
Daniel.
Richard.
Claire.
Dr. Michael Reeves.
Every viewing made the footage worse.
Not because I could suddenly see what happened beyond the camera.
Because I was beginning to notice what happened before it.
Daniel wasn’t surprised to see Michael Reeves.
Neither was Richard.
They were waiting for him.
Claire had a folder tucked beneath her arm.
Michael arrived carrying nothing.
The argument began almost immediately.
He pointed toward Claire.
Then toward Daniel.
Then he appeared to say something that made Richard step forward.
Daniel shoved him.
Not hard enough to send him across the garage.
But hard enough to show anger.
Hard enough to destroy any possibility that this was a casual conversation.
Then Michael moved out of frame.
Daniel followed.
Less than fifteen seconds later, Daniel returned.
Blood on his cuff.
I paused the image.
Zoomed in.
Paused again.
My husband’s face was visible.
He looked terrified.
Richard grabbed his shoulder.
Claire was crying.
Then the video ended.
At 3:04 a.m., I searched Daniel’s hospital.
Michael Reeves.
Archived staff directories.
Press releases.
Research publications.
Michael had been a cardiologist specializing in minimally invasive valve procedures.
Well respected.
Married.
One daughter.
Daniel had coauthored two papers with him.
That part Daniel had never mentioned.
I searched news articles.
Michael’s death had been ruled an accident after he fell from the fourth level of the employee parking garage.
Police said there was no evidence of foul play.
Security footage near the fall location had reportedly been unavailable due to “maintenance.”
The hospital issued a statement mourning “a brilliant physician and beloved colleague.”
Daniel had attended the memorial.
I remembered.
He came home that night unusually quiet.
I had poured him wine.
He sat at the kitchen island and stared into the glass.
I asked whether he knew Michael well.
Daniel said no.
“Different department.”
A lie.
Another lie.
How many versions of my marriage existed that I never knew about?
At 4:10 a.m., someone knocked on my door.
I froze.
Three knocks.
Then Elena’s voice.
“It’s me.”
I opened it.
She was holding two coffees.
“You’re awake.”
“So are you.”
“I’m billing you.”
“At friend rates?”
“No.”
I stepped aside.
She saw the laptop.
“You watched it again.”
“Eighteen times.”
“That’s seventeen too many.”
“I need to know what happened.”
“You need an investigator.”
“I have the internet.”
“That sentence is why lawyers drink.”
She handed me coffee.
“I found BHP.”
“You already found BHP.”
“I found what it owns.”
I sat.
“What?”
“Two apartments.”
“Where?”
“River North and Streeterville.”
My chest tightened.
“Claire?”
“Likely.”
“What else?”
“A vacation property in Naples, Florida.”
I stared.
“Daniel told me Richard sold the Naples house.”
“He did.”
“So what property?”
“Different house.”
“Purchased eighteen months ago.”
“The same period Claire started appearing in photographs.”
“Yes.”
“With what money?”
“Still tracing it.”
Elena opened her laptop.
“BHP also owns thirty-eight percent of Bennett Surgical Consulting.”
I frowned.
“That’s Daniel’s side company.”
“Yes.”
“He barely uses it.”
“That is not what the tax filings suggest.”
My coffee suddenly tasted bitter.
“How much?”
“Last year, it received just over $1.8 million.”
I almost dropped the cup.
“That’s impossible.”
“What did Daniel tell you?”
“Maybe seventy thousand.”
Elena turned the laptop.
Payments had come from multiple medical-device manufacturers.
Consulting.
Training.
Research support.
Speaking fees.
One company appeared repeatedly.
Virex Medical Systems.
I knew Virex.
Everyone in Chicago healthcare knew Virex.
They manufactured cardiovascular devices.
And suddenly something from three years earlier returned to me.
Daniel had become an aggressive advocate for one of their products.
A valve-delivery system.
He called it revolutionary.
I remembered listening to him at dinner explain how quickly procedures could be performed.
I had been proud.
I actually told friends my husband was helping change cardiac medicine.
“What did Michael Reeves research?”
Elena typed.
We found it quickly.
Cardiovascular valves.
Specifically post-procedure complications.
My stomach twisted.
“Elena.”
“I know.”
“No.”
“You suspect.”
“I suspect.”
“That’s different.”
I leaned back.
“Could Michael have discovered something about Virex?”
“Possibly.”
“And Daniel was being paid by them.”
“Possibly.”
“And Richard’s company was receiving money.”
“Possibly.”
“And then Michael died.”
Elena closed the laptop halfway.
“This is where you stop.”
“What?”
“You have enough evidence to justify professional investigation.”
“I need to know.”
“You need to stay out of anything involving a suspicious death.”
“I’m not going to investigate a death.”
“You’re already investigating a death.”
I stood.
“I’m investigating my husband.”
“Your husband is in the video.”
“Exactly.”
“Rachel.”
She stood too.
“Listen to me.”
I did.
“You discovered an affair.”
“Yes.”
“You discovered missing marital funds.”
“Yes.”
“You found forged documents involving your inheritance.”
“Yes.”
“And someone anonymously handed you video connected to the death of your husband’s colleague.”
“Yes.”
“That is no longer a situation where you drive around asking questions.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“You were thinking about it.”
I said nothing.
She pointed at me.
“That face.”
“What face?”
“The face you make before doing something I’ll have to explain to a judge.”
I almost smiled.
Then my phone rang.
Daniel.
6:17 a.m.
Elena looked at the screen.
“Speaker.”
I answered.
I said nothing.
Daniel breathed on the other end.
“Rachel?”
I waited.
“Please say something.”
“What would you like me to say?”
“You scared me.”
That almost made me angry.
“I scared you?”
“I went to the house.”
My entire body tightened.
“You went home?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To find you.”
“You knew I wasn’t there.”
“I didn’t know where you went.”
“What happened to Rome?”
Silence.
“Daniel?”
“We canceled.”
“How tragic.”
“Can we not do this?”
“You’re right.”
I looked at Elena.
“This probably isn’t the worst thing we need to discuss.”
Elena’s eyes sharpened.
Daniel heard it too.
“What does that mean?”
I said nothing.
“Rachel.”
“Why were you worried about our accounts?”
“What?”
“At the airport.”
“You told me not to do anything impulsive financially.”
“I was trying to keep the situation from escalating.”
“Interesting choice of words.”
“What have you done?”
There was fear.
I heard it clearly.
“Nothing.”
“Did you move money?”
“No.”
“Did you call Ashcroft?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Did anyone call you?”
I looked at Elena.
She shook her head slightly.
“Who would call me?”
“No one.”
“Then why ask?”
“I’m tired.”
“So am I.”
“I haven’t slept.”
“Maybe Claire can make you breakfast.”
He exhaled sharply.
“Rachel.”
“Where is she?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It mattered enough to take her to Italy.”
“We weren’t going alone.”
“Yes.”
“You brought an audience.”
“Don’t talk about the kids like that.”
“Don’t use your children as camouflage for an affair.”
His voice hardened.
“You have no idea what Sophie has been dealing with.”
My anger stopped.
“What does Sophie have to do with this?”
“Nothing.”
“You just said her name.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“No, Daniel.”
“What is Sophie dealing with?”
“Elena is there, isn’t she?”
I froze.
“How do you know?”
“Because when you get scared, you call Elena.”
My skin crawled.
Not because he was wrong.
Because he sounded suddenly calm.
“Put me on speaker.”
“You already are.”
“Of course.”
His tone shifted.
“Good morning, Elena.”
Elena leaned toward the phone.
“Daniel.”
“You’re advising my wife?”
“I’m her friend.”
“You’re a divorce attorney.”
“I contain multitudes.”
Even now, Elena could weaponize sarcasm.
Daniel ignored it.
“Rachel, come home.”
“No.”
“We need to talk privately.”
“No.”
“I’m not asking.”
Something in his voice turned cold.
Elena’s expression changed.
I sat straighter.
“You don’t get to order me home.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
Silence.
That sentence had escaped him.
I felt it.
Elena felt it too.
“From what, Daniel?”
“I worded that badly.”
“No.”
“You worded it honestly.”
“I mean from unnecessary humiliation.”
“I already watched my husband kiss his mistress in front of his family.”
“I think we’re past humiliation.”
“You don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Then explain.”
“I can’t over the phone.”
“Why?”
“Because there are things you don’t know.”
The hotel room seemed to shrink.
“Such as?”
Another pause.
Then Daniel said something I didn’t expect.
“Whatever someone sent you, it isn’t what it looks like.”
I stopped breathing.
Elena’s head snapped toward me.
I stared at the phone.
“I never told you anyone sent me anything.”
Daniel said nothing.
That was his mistake.
His first real mistake.
“Who is texting me?”
“Rachel.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You just said—”
“I assumed.”
“No.”
I stood.
“You knew.”
“Listen to me.”
“Did you forge my signature?”
Silence.
Elena shut her eyes.
She had told me not to confront him.
Too late.
“Rachel.”
“Did you?”
“Those documents were prepared by Ashcroft.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“You authorized financial restructuring.”
“I authorized investment review.”
“You signed broad consent.”
“I did not sign the beneficiary transfer.”
Silence.
A long one.
I heard Daniel move.
Then a door closed on his side.
When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“Where did you get that?”
There it was.
Confirmation.
Not denial.
Not confusion.
Where did you get that?
My hand began shaking.
Elena wrote something on hotel stationery and slid it toward me.
END CALL.
I ignored it.
“Who is Michael Reeves?”
Daniel stopped breathing.
I could hear the absence.
The empty sound of someone who had been struck without being touched.
“Rachel.”
“You told me you barely knew him.”
“Where are you?”
“You published with him.”
“Where are you?”
“You were with him on December sixth.”
Daniel’s voice changed entirely.
No more pleading.
No more exhausted husband.
No more careful surgeon.
“Tell me where you are.”
I ended the call.
Immediately, Elena grabbed her laptop.
“We’re leaving.”
“What?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
“Because if Daniel knows about the video—”
“He doesn’t know where we are.”
“He knew I was with you.”
“That was a guess.”
“Maybe.”
“Elena.”
She shoved her charger into her bag.
“Rachel, I’ve spent twenty-one years dealing with people who lie professionally.”
“He’s a surgeon.”
“So are half my clients’ husbands.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“I know.”
She looked at me.
“The moment you mentioned Michael Reeves, Daniel stopped sounding like a husband trying to save a marriage.”
“What did he sound like?”
“A man trying to contain information.”
We left through a side exit.
As we entered the lobby, I noticed a man near the elevators.
Dark coat.
Baseball cap.
Phone in his hand.
He looked at me.
Then away.
Probably nothing.
Still, I kept walking.
Elena noticed him too.
Neither of us spoke until we were in her car.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
You should not have mentioned Michael.
I stared.
Then another message.
Daniel will come looking for the drive.
My throat tightened.
I typed.
Then tell me who you are.
No answer.
Elena drove toward downtown.
The morning sun rose behind the skyline.
Chicago looked almost beautiful.
Ordinary.
People were waking up.
Opening coffee shops.
Walking dogs.
Driving children to school.
Meanwhile, my marriage had become a crime scene I didn’t understand.
Twenty minutes later, another message arrived.
This time it contained an address.
An apartment building in Streeterville.
Claire Mercer lives here.
I looked at Elena.
She shook her head.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I want to know what she knows.”
“Not today.”
Then my phone vibrated again.
A photograph loaded.
Claire.
Standing in a kitchen.
My kitchen.
Not recently.
According to the date stamp, eleven months earlier.
She was wearing one of my aprons.
And standing beside her was Sophie.
Both were smiling.
I stared until my vision blurred.
Daniel had brought Claire into my home.
The house purchased with my mother’s money.
The kitchen where I had hosted his family for Christmas.
The room where I made birthday cakes for his children.
The photograph had been taken while I was visiting my sister in Seattle.
I knew because I recognized the flowers on the counter.
I had ordered them for Daniel before leaving.
May you like
The anonymous sender typed one final message.
Ask Sophie what happened in your house that weekend.
