Chapter 5 - Why Trevor Chose Me
Police found the warehouse empty.
No Richard.
No Vanessa.
No Charles.
Only a broken chair, blood on the concrete, and one fired shell casing.
No body.
For the second time in the Hayes family history, a gunshot had produced more questions than answers.
I sat inside an interview room with Noah asleep beside me in his carrier.
Trevor arrived forty minutes later.
The moment he entered, I felt something I didn’t expect.
Not love.
Not relief.
Anger.
Pure, clean anger.
He stopped several feet away.
“Is Noah okay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“I deserve that.”
“That doesn’t answer why you researched me before dating me.”
Rebecca remained in the room.
Trevor glanced at her.
“She stays,” I said.
“I assumed she would.”
He sat opposite me.
For once, Trevor Hayes had no polished suit, no confident posture, no family mansion behind him.
Just wrinkled clothes and tired eyes.
“Six years ago,” he began, “I found Charles’s private files in my father’s office.”
“You were snooping?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because one of our development projects made no financial sense. Millions disappeared.”
“Harbor Ridge.”
“Before Harbor Ridge. Same system.”
“And my father?”
“His name was in Charles’s notes.”
I swallowed.
“What did they say?”
“That Michael Carter had uncovered fraudulent land purchases twenty years earlier.”
“My father was an accountant.”
“He was a forensic accountant.”
That phrase hit me.
My father had told me he worked “with numbers.”
Nothing more.
Trevor continued.
“He helped Charles gather evidence against Richard.”
“And then he died.”
“Yes.”
“Heart attack.”
Trevor looked away.
“You don’t believe that.”
“No.”
“Did Richard kill my father?”
“I don’t know.”
“That answer isn’t enough.”
“It’s the only true one I have.”
My hands tightened.
“Why did you find me?”
“Because Charles’s notes said Michael had hidden a backup.”
“The ledger?”
“An early version.”
“So you dated me to search for it.”
Trevor’s eyes met mine.
“At first.”
There are two words capable of destroying six years of memories.
At first.
Our first coffee.
Our first kiss.
The night he told me he loved me.
The proposal.
The wedding.
All contaminated by two words.
“At first,” I repeated.
“I never intended to marry you for information.”
“That’s supposed to comfort me?”
“No.”
“When did it stop being an investigation?”
“Second date.”
I almost laughed.
“Convenient.”
“You spilled coffee on yourself.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“You were telling me about your father. You knocked over your cup. You laughed so hard everyone stared at us.”
My throat tightened despite myself.
“I remember.”
“I went home that night and deleted the report I’d started writing about you.”
“You had a report?”
“Yes.”
I looked away.
Trevor continued.
“I told Charles I was done involving you.”
“You were talking to Charles then?”
“Yes.”
“So he was alive before his supposed death?”
“At that point everyone thought he was alive. This was months before the boat.”
“Did he tell you to date me?”
“No. He was furious when he found out.”
“Why?”
“He said your father had died because of Hayes family secrets and we had no right to drag his daughter into them.”
For the first time, Charles became human in my mind.
Not a photograph.
Not a ghost.
A man who had tried to leave me alone.
“What happened after you married me?”
“I stopped looking for the backup.”
“Richard didn’t.”
“No.”
“Did he know who I was?”
“Not until later.”
“When?”
“After our wedding.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So the entire Hayes family knew my history except me?”
“My mother didn’t.”
“Vanessa?”
“Yes.”
Of course.
“Tell me about Vanessa.”
Trevor sat straighter.
“She discovered Richard’s shell accounts four years ago.”
“And you?”
“We started working together to trace them.”
“You spent last night in a hotel with her.”
“In a hotel conference room.”
“Perfume doesn’t transfer from conference tables.”
His expression tightened.
“She hugged me.”
I said nothing.
“Her brother disappeared last week.”
That changed the temperature of the room.
“What?”
“Vanessa believed Richard took him because she copied company files. She was terrified.”
“So she hugged you.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t think perhaps telling your wife the truth would be preferable to arriving home smelling like another woman?”
“I was trying to get you away from me.”
“Stop saying that like it makes what you did noble.”
Trevor flinched.
Good.
“You deliberately wounded me because making decisions for me was easier than trusting me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s not protection.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t ask what I wanted.”
“No.”
“You didn’t even look at Noah.”
His face broke then.
Just slightly.
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because if I looked at him, I wouldn’t have been able to say it.”
The anger inside me shifted but didn’t disappear.
Trevor covered his face briefly.
“I sat in the driveway for eleven minutes trying to convince myself to go inside. Richard had called me at 3:52. He said he knew you’d been in his study. He sent me a photograph of you holding Noah outside the pediatrician’s office.”
My stomach turned.
“He was following us.”
“Yes.”
“He told me if you remained connected to me, he would treat you as part of Charles’s conspiracy.”
“So you chose divorce.”
“Yes.”
“You could have called police.”
“We didn’t have enough.”
“You had threats.”
“From disposable numbers.”
“You could have told me.”
“Yes.”
Finally.
No excuse.
Just yes.
I appreciated it more than another explanation.
“What happens now?”
Trevor looked at Rebecca.
“Legally?”
“Between us.”
He swallowed.
“You should continue the divorce.”
That surprised me.
“You want it?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because wanting you doesn’t mean I deserve you.”
I looked at the man I had loved for six years.
Part of me wanted him to beg.
Another part was relieved he didn’t.
“I don’t know what I want yet.”
“I know.”
“I may never trust you again.”
“I know.”
“And if you ever use Noah as an excuse to control me—”
“I won’t.”
“You already did.”
He lowered his eyes.
“Yes.”
Rebecca’s phone buzzed.
She stepped outside.
Trevor looked at Noah.
This time he truly looked.
His eyes filled.
“Can I hold him?”
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
Trevor lifted our son carefully.
Noah squirmed, opened his eyes, and stared up at him.
Trevor laughed once through tears.
“Hey, buddy.”
Watching them hurt.
Because love hadn’t vanished.
That would have been easier.
Rebecca returned.
Her expression was serious.
“They found Vanessa.”
Trevor stood.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“County hospital.”
“What happened?”
“She was dropped outside the emergency entrance.”
“By whom?”
“No idea.”
“Can we talk to her?”
“Police are already there.”
Vanessa agreed to see us separately.
I went first.
She looked terrible.
Bruised cheek.
Split lip.
Bandage around one wrist.
When she saw me, shame crossed her face.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That you thought Trevor and I…”
“Were you?”
“No.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“Ever?”
“No.”
I believed her.
Maybe because she looked too exhausted to lie.
“Why did Richard take you?”
“I stole the authentication device from the music box.”
I stared.
“You had it?”
“For an hour.”
“What happened?”
“He took it back.”
“Where is it now?”
“Charles has it.”
“You saw Charles?”
Vanessa nodded.
“He rescued me.”
“Then where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did he rescue you?”
“He came through the warehouse service entrance. Richard thought Charles was dead.”
“Again.”
A faint smile touched her bruised mouth.
“Apparently your family has a complicated relationship with funerals.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“What happened after the gunshot?”
“Charles shot the ceiling. Richard ran. Charles untied me. Then he made me leave.”
“Why didn’t he come with you?”
“He said he had one more thing to finish.”
“What?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
Vanessa looked toward the door.
Then back at me.
“But he gave me something for you.”
She reached beneath her hospital blanket.
A sealed envelope.
My name appeared on the front.
Inside was a flash drive.
And a note.
Emma,
The encrypted ledger will prove what Richard did.
But evidence is not enough.
Richard has spent thirty years making other people carry his guilt.
He will do it again.
The person who can finally stop him is not me.
It is Diane.
I reread the last line.
Trevor’s mother.
“Why Diane?”
Vanessa whispered, “Because she knows what happened to your father.”
My body went cold.
“What?”
“She was there the night Michael Carter died.”
Before I could ask more, my phone rang.
Diane.
I answered.
“Emma.”
Her voice was trembling.
“Where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
“Don’t come home.”
“What happened?”
“I found something Richard left.”
“What?”
“A confession.”
My heart slammed.
“Whose?”
Silence.
Then Diane whispered:
“Mine.”
The line suddenly filled with a crash.
Diane gasped.
A man’s voice spoke behind her.
“Give me the phone.”
Richard.
I stood.
“Diane?”
She screamed.
The call ended.
Trevor burst into the room from the hallway.
“What happened?”
Before I could answer, a message arrived from Diane’s number.
One photograph.
Diane stood inside Richard’s study.
Behind her was a wall safe.
A gun was pressed against her shoulder.
And beside her stood Richard Hayes.
May you like
Under the photograph were five words:
BRING EMMA. BRING THE KEY.
