Chapter 2 - The Name on the Recording
Rachel replayed the audio three times.
Each time, the same name emerged through the static.
Mrs. Parker.
The neighbor who had stood across the street.
The woman who had been among the first to accuse Mark Bennett of abandoning his daughter.
Rachel drove directly to Maple Street.
Mrs. Parker answered after the second knock.
"Officer."
"We need to talk."
The woman's face changed.
"About Mark?"
Rachel watched carefully.
"Why would you assume that?"
Mrs. Parker gripped the doorframe.
"Because everyone's talking about him."
"May I come in?"
A hesitation.
Then she stepped aside.
Rachel entered.
The living room was neat.
Family photographs covered one wall.
A television played quietly.
Nothing immediately suspicious.
"How well did you know Mark?"
"I told you. Barely."
"How long have you lived across from him?"
"Three years."
"And you barely knew him?"
"He kept to himself."
"Did you ever enter his house?"
"No."
Rachel didn't react.
That was a lie.
Ellie had been too sick to remember everything clearly, but investigators had found an old photograph on Mark's refrigerator.
A neighborhood barbecue.
Mrs. Parker stood inside Mark's kitchen holding a cake.
"Never?"
Mrs. Parker looked away.
"Maybe once or twice."
Rachel took out the photograph from the pharmacy footage.
"Do you know this man?"
Mrs. Parker stared at it.
"No."
Too quickly.
Rachel placed it on the table.
"Look again."
"I don't know him."
"Mark did."
Silence.
"And shortly before Mark disappeared, someone mentioned your name."
Mrs. Parker's face drained.
Rachel saw it.
Fear.
Not guilt.
Fear.
"Who mentioned me?"
"I can't tell you."
"Was Mark alive?"
Rachel studied her.
"Why are you asking that?"
Mrs. Parker sat down.
Her hands shook.
"I didn't hurt him."
"I didn't say you did."
"I didn't."
"Then help me."
The older woman's eyes filled with tears.
"You don't understand."
"Make me understand."
Mrs. Parker looked toward the window.
Then she whispered, "Mark wasn't supposed to know."
"Know what?"
"About the accident."
Rachel waited.
"What accident?"
Mrs. Parker covered her mouth.
Seven years earlier, before Ellie could remember, Mark's wife had died in what police recorded as a single-vehicle collision.
Her name was Sarah Bennett.
Mark had raised Ellie alone ever since.
Mrs. Parker knew Sarah.
More than casually.
"Sarah came here the night before she died," Mrs. Parker said.
"Why?"
"She was scared."
"Of whom?"
"She wouldn't say."
"Then what did she say?"
"That she'd discovered something."
"What?"
Mrs. Parker shook her head.
"She gave me an envelope."
Rachel leaned forward.
"Where is it?"
"I burned it."
Rachel stared at her.
"You destroyed evidence?"
"I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of the people she was afraid of."
Rachel's phone vibrated.
Hospital.
Ellie was awake.
Rachel stood.
"We're not finished."
Mrs. Parker grabbed her wrist.
"Officer."
Rachel looked down.
"If Mark found out about Sarah..."
"What?"
"They'll kill him too."
Rachel drove to the hospital.
Ellie sat propped against pillows with Mr. Buttons beside her.
Color had begun returning to her cheeks.
"Officer Rachel."
"Hey, bug."
Ellie smiled faintly.
Rachel sat beside her.
"Can I ask you something about Mrs. Parker?"
Ellie nodded.
"Did your daddy talk to her recently?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"The day before he went away."
"What did they talk about?"
Ellie thought.
"Daddy got mad."
"What did he say?"
"He said, 'You knew.'"
Rachel's heartbeat changed.
"What else?"
"Mrs. Parker cried."
"Did she give him anything?"
Ellie nodded.
"A picture."
"What picture?"
"I don't know."
"Did Daddy keep it?"
"In his box."
"What box?"
"The secret one."
Back at the house, Rachel found it beneath Mark's bed.
A small metal lockbox.
Inside were Sarah's death certificate, old insurance papers, Ellie's birth certificate, and a photograph.
Sarah Bennett stood beside a dark SUV.
Behind her stood two men.
One was Mark.
The other was the stranger from the pharmacy.
On the back, Sarah had written a date.
The day before she died.
Below it were five words:
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS, FIND DAVID.
Rachel turned the photograph over again.
David.
Was that the stranger?
Her phone rang.
Forensics.
"Rachel, we got an identification from the pharmacy image."
"Who?"
"David Mercer."
Rachel looked at Sarah's handwriting.
"What do we know?"
"Former paramedic. Left Oklahoma six years ago."
"Current address?"
"That's the problem."
"What?"
"According to federal records, David Mercer died eighteen months ago."
Rachel stared at the photograph.
Yet she had just watched him walk into a pharmacy three days earlier.
That evening, police returned to Mrs. Parker's house.
The front door stood open.
"Mrs. Parker?"
No response.
Rachel entered.
Living room empty.
Kitchen empty.
Back door open.
On the kitchen floor lay a broken coffee cup.
Beside it was a fresh muddy footprint.
Rachel reached for her radio.
Then she heard a sound upstairs.
A floorboard.
Slowly, Rachel drew her weapon.
"Police."
Silence.
She climbed.
One step.
Another.
At the top was a hallway.
Three doors.
The first bedroom was empty.
The second was empty.
The third door was closed.
Rachel reached for the handle.
May you like
It moved before she touched it.
Someone was opening it from the other side.
