Chapter 2 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
I woke to darkness and a voice saying my name.
“Elena?”
Pain pulsed behind my right eye.
My tongue felt too large for my mouth.
Machines beeped somewhere close.
I tried to move.
A hand touched my wrist.
“Elena, don't sit up.”
I knew that voice.
Rebecca.
For several seconds, I couldn't remember why my attorney was sitting beside a hospital bed.
Then everything returned.
Daniel.
Claudia.
Emma.
The divorce papers.
My father.
I opened my eyes.
Rebecca leaned over me.
“You're okay.”
I swallowed.
“Memory?”
“Apparently intact.”
I almost laughed, but pain stopped me.
“What time?”
“Almost six in the morning.”
“Surgery?”
“Successful.”
“Tumor?”
“Removed. Your surgeon will explain everything later.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
Then opened them again.
“Daniel?”
Rebecca's expression hardened.
“He's been here twice.”
“Why?”
“Because he expected to find a woman who couldn't remember yesterday.”
I breathed slowly.
“And?”
“I told him you weren't available.”
“Photograph.”
Rebecca nodded.
“I saw it.”
“My father is dead.”
“That's what I thought.”
“No. He is dead.”
“Then someone went to extraordinary trouble to photograph a dead man in Switzerland.”
I stared at the ceiling.
My father, Charles Bennett, had disappeared after a boating accident six years earlier.
His boat had been found drifting on Lake Michigan.
Blood on the deck.
Wallet inside.
No body.
After years of legal proceedings, he had been declared dead.
Daniel had stood beside me through all of it.
He had arranged private investigators.
He had helped handle the estate.
He had comforted me while I signed paperwork transferring management of several family trusts.
Something cold moved through me.
“Rebecca.”
“I know.”
“Daniel helped with Dad's estate.”
“I know.”
“What did you find?”
She opened her laptop.
“Your husband has been moving money through companies formed after your father's disappearance.”
“How much?”
“So far? Seventeen million.”
I stared at her.
“You said eleven.”
“That was before I found another chain.”
My mouth went dry.
“Whose money?”
“Some marital assets. Some company money. Some from your father's trust.”
“My trust?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Documents bearing your signature.”
“Forged.”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“I need a forensic document examiner before I say definitely.”
I touched my bandaged head.
“Why?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“That's what we need to figure out.”
The door opened.
Daniel walked in.
He froze when he saw me awake.
For one strange second, he looked almost disappointed.
Then he smiled.
“Elena.”
Rebecca closed the laptop.
Daniel approached slowly.
“How do you feel?”
“Like someone drilled into my skull.”
His smile faltered.
“You remember?”
“Everything.”
Silence.
He recovered quickly.
“Good.”
“Is it?”
Rebecca stood.
Daniel glanced at her.
“This is private.”
“No,” I said. “She stays.”
His jaw tightened.
“Elena, we need to talk.”
“We did.”
“You were under enormous stress.”
“I remember that too.”
He pulled a chair closer.
“I shouldn't have told you the way I did.”
“No.”
“I panicked.”
“About what?”
He looked toward Rebecca.
I followed his eyes.
“About my lawyer?”
“No.”
“About the hidden accounts?”
His face changed.
Tiny.
But enough.
Rebecca saw it too.
“What accounts?” he asked.
I smiled.
“Exactly.”
He stood.
“You need rest.”
“I need answers.”
“You had surgery eight hours ago.”
“And somehow I still remember you have a nine-year-old daughter with Claudia.”
Daniel looked toward the door.
“Lower your voice.”
“Why? Are you ashamed?”
“Emma doesn't deserve this.”
“That may be the first true thing you've said.”
His eyes hardened.
I continued.
“Neither does your wife.”
Daniel leaned closer.
“You need to be very careful.”
Rebecca stepped forward.
“Is that a threat?”
“No.”
“It sounded like one.”
Daniel ignored her.
“Elena, there are financial matters you don't understand.”
“I understand seventeen million dollars.”
His face went still.
Rebecca's expression told me I had struck directly.
“Where did you get that number?” he asked.
I said nothing.
“Elena.”
“Is my father alive?”
Daniel stopped breathing.
There it was.
The first genuine crack.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Rebecca saw it.
I saw it.
Daniel slowly sat.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Answer.”
“Your father is dead.”
“Have you been to Geneva?”
His eyes flicked toward Rebecca.
Again.
Too fast.
Too guilty.
I knew my husband.
I had watched him negotiate multimillion-dollar deals without blinking.
But Daniel had never been good at being surprised.
His right thumb always rubbed against his wedding ring.
It was doing that now.
“Who sent you something?”
I stared at him.
That was not the response of an innocent man.
Rebecca said quietly, “Daniel, perhaps you should leave.”
He stood.
“This conversation is over.”
“No,” I said.
He turned.
“You came here yesterday because you thought I might forget.”
His back stiffened.
“You wanted a divorce signed before surgery.”
He said nothing.
“You wanted me weak.”
“Elena—”
“You failed.”
He turned around.
His face was different now.
The husband disappeared.
A stranger looked at me.
“If you're going to start digging into things you don't understand,” he said, “then at least have the intelligence to know when to stop.”
Rebecca stepped between us.
“Get out.”
Daniel smiled faintly.
Not pleasantly.
“You have no idea what she's getting herself into.”
“Then enlighten us.”
He looked at me.
“Ask your father.”
My heart stopped.
Rebecca went still.
Daniel realized immediately what he had said.
But it was too late.
“What did you say?” I whispered.
He grabbed the door.
“Elena—”
“You said ask my father.”
“I misspoke.”
“You don't misspeak.”
He left.
Rebecca locked the door behind him.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I said, “He's alive.”
Rebecca slowly nodded.
“Maybe.”
“No. Daniel knows.”
“We need proof.”
My phone lay on the bedside table.
I reached for it.
Twenty-three missed calls.
Most from family.
Three from Daniel.
One from an unknown number.
And one voicemail.
Rebecca watched me press play.
Static.
Then breathing.
Then a man's voice.
Older.
Weak.
Familiar.
“Elena.”
I dropped the phone.
Rebecca caught it.
I knew that voice.
Even after six years.
My father.
The message continued.
“If you're hearing this, Daniel has already made his move.”
My hands shook.
Rebecca turned up the volume.
“You cannot trust the records he shows you. You cannot trust the companies carrying your name. And whatever he tells you about Claudia, understand this—”
Static swallowed several words.
Then my father's voice returned.
“She was never the beginning.”
The message ended.
Rebecca looked at me.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
My phone vibrated again.
A text.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
Your father left something for you.
Below it was an address.
Rebecca searched it.
Her eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“It's a storage facility.”
“Where?”
“Forty minutes outside the city.”
Another message arrived.
UNIT 317.
COME ALONE.
Rebecca shook her head.
“No.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“Good.”
A third message appeared.
IF YOU BRING POLICE, THE UNIT WILL BE EMPTY.
Then a photograph loaded.
A storage unit door.
Number 317.
Someone's hand held today's newspaper in front of it.
And reflected faintly in the polished metal lock was a face.
May you like
A man standing behind the photographer.
Daniel.
