Chapter 2 - The Woman Behind the Door
The garage door opened three inches.
“Emily,” a woman whispered. “Don't let Daniel see me.”
I tightened my grip around the crutch.
“Who are you?”
The door opened farther.
A flashlight appeared first.
Then a woman's face.
She looked about forty-five, rainwater dripping from dark hair plastered against her cheeks.
I had never seen her before.
She entered quickly and locked the door behind her.
“Where's Daniel?”
“Inside.”
“And Linda?”
“With him.”
The stranger exhaled.
Then she saw the blood on my clothes.
“Oh my God.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Rachel Cole.”
Nothing.
I waited.
She looked at the open cabinet.
Her expression changed.
“You found Rose's files.”
“How do you know my grandmother?”
Rachel lowered her flashlight.
“She saved my life.”
I didn't believe her.
Not yet.
“Explain.”
She moved closer but stopped when I raised the crutch.
“Fair enough.”
Rachel reached slowly into her jacket and removed a folded photograph.
She placed it on the workbench.
Lightning flashed.
The photograph showed Grandma Rose standing outside the north barn at Hawthorne Farm.
Beside her was Rachel.
And beside Rachel stood Daniel.
The photograph looked at least fifteen years old.
Daniel had told me he'd never met my grandmother before our wedding seven years earlier.
I looked up.
“When was this taken?”
“2009.”
My stomach tightened.
“Daniel didn't know my grandmother in 2009.”
“Yes, he did.”
“No.”
“He knew her before he knew you.”
The garage suddenly felt smaller.
Rachel pointed toward the recorder.
“Rose left instructions. If anything happened to her and Daniel ever tried forcing you to transfer the farm, I was supposed to come.”
“How did you know tonight?”
“Your grandmother arranged that too.”
“That makes no sense. She's dead.”
Rachel looked toward the cabinet.
“Check the red folder.”
I opened it.
Inside was a legal document from a private security company.
At the bottom was a prepaid monitoring agreement.
Hawthorne Farm.
North barn.
Motion alert notification.
Rachel explained that Grandma had installed a hidden security sensor years earlier. Someone entered the north barn that afternoon.
Daniel.
“How do you know?”
“Because I watched him.”
My mind raced backward.
Daniel had disappeared for almost three hours while I was in surgery.
He claimed he'd gone home to prepare the bedroom.
“What was he doing there?”
“Looking for something.”
“What?”
Rachel looked at the recorder.
“The same thing Rose hid from him fifteen years ago.”
Footsteps crossed the hallway.
Rachel killed the flashlight.
We froze.
Daniel's voice came through the door.
“Emily?”
Neither of us moved.
“Ready to sign?”
Rachel leaned toward me.
“Say yes.”
I stared at her.
She mouthed it again.
Say yes.
“I need my medication,” I called.
Silence.
Then Daniel answered.
“You know the deal.”
“I'll sign.”
Rachel's eyes stayed on mine.
“Good,” Daniel said.
“Bring me my medicine first.”
“I can't.”
“Then something for the pain.”
A pause.
“I'll see what we have.”
His footsteps retreated.
Rachel turned the flashlight on beneath her jacket, producing only enough glow for us to see each other.
“We need to move.”
“I can barely walk.”
“We don't need to leave yet.”
She opened the red folder.
Inside were financial statements connecting Mercer Holdings to a development company called Northstar Residential.
I recognized the name.
They had made the $2.4 million offer.
“Daniel owns part of Northstar,” Rachel said.
“No, he doesn't.”
“Through three shell companies, he does.”
I stared at the papers.
“If I transferred Hawthorne to Mercer Holdings—”
“He'd sell it to his own company.”
“Why?”
“Because the land is worth much more than two million dollars.”
“How much?”
Rachel hesitated.
“Possibly thirty.”
I almost laughed.
“Hawthorne Farm isn't worth thirty million dollars.”
“The farm isn't.”
She pointed toward the photograph.
“The north field is.”
Fifteen years earlier, a regional manufacturing company had illegally buried chemical waste beneath several properties around Cedar Ridge.
Hawthorne Farm was one of them.
Grandma discovered it.
The company offered her money to remain silent.
She refused.
Before she could expose them, the company collapsed.
But its insurance liability remained.
So did records proving who authorized the dumping.
Rachel had worked as a junior accountant for the company.
Daniel had worked for one of its legal contractors.
That was how he met Rose.
“He tried buying the farm from her back then,” Rachel said. “She refused.”
“And then he married me?”
“Years later.”
The thought made me sick.
“You're saying my marriage was about land?”
“I don't know how it started.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“I don't know.”
I looked toward the house.
Seven years.
Birthdays.
Anniversaries.
The night Daniel proposed.
Had all of it been planned?
Rachel touched the recorder.
“Rose believed Daniel eventually developed genuine feelings for you.”
“That's supposed to help?”
“No.”
It didn't.
“Why would the land be worth thirty million now?”
“Because Northstar doesn't want to build houses.”
Rachel showed me another document.
The county had quietly shortlisted the area for a major transportation and logistics project.
If environmental liability were cleared, land values would explode.
Daniel needed control of Hawthorne before the announcement became public.
“And the evidence?”
“Could prove Northstar's partners knew about the contamination and concealed it.”
“Daniel?”
“Possibly.”
The word chilled me.
I heard movement again.
Rachel quickly gathered the files.
“Where can we hide these?”
I pointed toward the car.
“Locked.”
She pulled a slim tool from her jacket.
Thirty seconds later, the passenger door opened.
“You break into cars often?”
“Long story.”
We placed most of the documents beneath the spare tire compartment.
I kept the recorder.
Then Rachel slipped behind the shelving unit.
The interior door opened.
Daniel entered carrying a glass of water and two tablets.
He stopped.
His eyes moved toward the cabinet.
The bottom drawer was open.
“What were you doing?”
“Looking for painkillers.”
His face changed.
“Inside that?”
“I was desperate.”
He walked toward the cabinet.
I watched him inspect it.
“Was this locked?”
“I don't know.”
He turned toward me.
“How did you get over here?”
“Slowly.”
His eyes narrowed.
I forced myself to look exhausted.
It wasn't difficult.
He handed me the tablets.
“What are these?”
“Ibuprofen.”
I recognized them.
I swallowed both.
“Now sign.”
He placed the contract on the workbench.
I looked down at it.
“Daniel?”
“What?”
“Did you know my grandmother before you met me?”
Silence.
Behind the shelves, Rachel didn't move.
Daniel's expression barely changed.
“Where did that come from?”
“Answer me.”
“No.”
“No, you didn't?”
“No, I'm not doing this.”
He pushed the pen toward me.
“Sign.”
I picked it up.
His shoulders relaxed.
Then I deliberately dropped it.
It rolled beneath the car.
“Sorry.”
His jaw clenched.
He crouched to retrieve it.
I slipped the recorder beneath my dress.
He stood again.
“Here.”
I took the pen.
Then Linda called from inside.
“Daniel!”
He turned.
“What?”
“You need to see this!”
There was fear in her voice.
Daniel rushed toward the house.
Before leaving, he pointed at me.
“Don't move.”
The door slammed.
Rachel emerged.
“What now?”
“We get out.”
“There is another way?”
I looked upward.
The manual release for the garage door hung from the overhead rail.
Red handle.
Too high for me.
Rachel reached it.
She pulled.
Nothing.
“It's been disabled.”
Of course.
Then my eyes went to the side wall.
A narrow service door led into the backyard.
Daniel had installed a deadbolt after a burglary.
It required a key from inside.
“Key's in the kitchen.”
Rachel cursed.
I looked at the workbench.
Grandma's recorder wasn't the only thing inside the cabinet.
There had been photographs.
One showed the north barn.
Another showed Daniel.
But a third photograph had been upside down.
I hadn't examined it.
I opened the drawer.
Found it.
Turned it over.
My blood went cold.
The picture showed Linda standing beside Grandma Rose.
Between them was my surgeon.
Dr. Nathan Walsh.
The photograph was dated six months earlier.
Rachel stared.
“Emily?”
“My surgeon told me he'd never met my family.”
I flipped the photograph over.
Grandma had written one sentence.
IF THEY SEND YOU TO WALSH, DO NOT LET HIM OPERATE.
My hand began shaking.
“But he already did.”
Rachel looked at my bandaged leg.
Then at the blood soaking slowly through my dress.
“We need to get you to a hospital.”
The interior door suddenly opened.
Daniel stood there.
He wasn't holding the contract anymore.
May you like
He was holding my medical file.
And behind him stood Dr. Nathan Walsh.
