Chapter 2 - The Man Everyone Feared
“Claire Bennett.”
The voice came from the darkness beyond the doorway.
Adrian moved before Claire could react.
He pulled her behind him while Marcus drew a compact handgun and aimed it toward the corridor.
“Come out,” Marcus ordered.
Nothing.
Then a phone began ringing on the floor.
Nobody had noticed it before.
Marcus approached carefully.
The corridor was empty.
A cheap black phone lay beneath one of the wall lights.
Its screen displayed one word.
CLAIRE.
Adrian looked at her.
“Don't answer.”
Claire stared at the ringing phone.
“If this has something to do with my mother, I'm answering.”
She stepped around him.
Adrian caught her hand.
“You don't know who's calling.”
“Exactly.”
She picked it up.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then breathing.
Claire's heart hammered.
“Who is this?”
A woman's voice whispered:
“You look just like her.”
Claire froze.
“Who are you?”
“You shouldn't have kissed him.”
Claire glanced at Adrian.
“What?”
“The Vale family destroyed your mother.”
Claire tightened her grip.
“Where is she?”
A pause.
“Alive.”
Claire stopped breathing.
Adrian watched her face.
Claire could barely speak.
“My mother is alive?”
“For now.”
“Where?”
“Ask Adrian what happened in Room 317.”
The line disconnected.
Claire stared at the phone.
Adrian's expression told her enough.
“You know that number.”
He didn't answer.
“Room 317.”
Marcus looked at Adrian.
That tiny reaction confirmed everything.
Claire stepped backward.
“You do.”
“Claire—”
“What happened there?”
Adrian exhaled.
“Sixteen years ago, my father owned a private medical facility called Bellweather.”
Claire stared at him.
“Medical?”
“Officially.”
“And unofficially?”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“I was seventeen. I didn't know much.”
“But you knew Room 317.”
“Yes.”
Claire waited.
“That was where my mother died.”
The words stopped her anger.
“What?”
Adrian looked toward the photograph.
“My mother died the same week yours disappeared.”
Claire's thoughts collided.
“Coincidence?”
“I stopped believing in those years ago.”
Marcus locked the office door.
“We need to move.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever left that phone bypassed three security checkpoints.”
Claire looked toward the bar.
“My friends are out there.”
“We'll evacuate everyone.”
Adrian turned to Marcus.
“Quietly.”
Marcus left.
Claire remained with Adrian.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Finally Claire asked, “Why were you here tonight?”
He almost smiled.
“For a drink.”
“With six security guards?”
“They weren't supposed to arrive until later.”
“What happens later?”
“A meeting.”
“With whom?”
“My father.”
Claire stared at him.
“The man in the photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Convenient.”
“You think I arranged this?”
“I don't know what to think.”
“That makes two of us.”
She studied him.
The dangerous stranger she'd kissed on a dare suddenly seemed less mysterious and more complicated.
“Did you know who I was?”
“No.”
“Before tonight?”
“I'd never seen you.”
Claire believed him.
She wasn't sure why.
Perhaps because Adrian seemed genuinely disturbed by the photograph.
Perhaps because his first instinct had repeatedly been to protect her.
Or perhaps she simply wanted to believe the one person in the room who wasn't treating her like she was foolish.
“Tell me about your mother.”
Adrian looked toward the windows.
“Her name was Evelyn.”
“What happened?”
“She supposedly overdosed.”
“Supposedly?”
“She didn't use drugs.”
Claire understood immediately.
“You think someone killed her.”
“I know someone did.”
“Your father?”
Adrian didn't answer.
The silence did.
Marcus returned.
“Bar's being cleared.”
“Any sign of whoever planted the envelope?”
“No.”
“Cameras?”
“Looped for ninety seconds.”
Adrian swore.
Marcus looked at Claire.
“You need to come with us.”
“Where?”
“A secure location.”
Claire laughed.
“I have known you for approximately twelve minutes.”
“Thirteen,” Adrian said.
She looked at him.
“That doesn't help.”
“I have a penthouse upstairs.”
“That helps even less.”
Despite everything, Adrian smiled.
Claire hated that she noticed.
Marcus interrupted.
“We've got another problem.”
He showed Adrian his phone.
Adrian read something.
“What?”
Marcus looked at Claire.
“Your apartment.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What about it?”
“Someone broke in.”
Claire was already moving.
Adrian blocked the doorway.
“No.”
“That's my home.”
“Which is exactly why you're not going there.”
“My father's photographs are there.”
“What photographs?”
“Everything he collected about my mother's disappearance.”
Adrian grabbed his jacket.
“Then we're going together.”
Twenty minutes later, Claire sat in the back of a black SUV beside Adrian.
The absurdity wasn't lost on her.
An hour earlier, she'd been worried about tips.
Now six security professionals surrounded her while a billionaire stranger she'd kissed was helping investigate her mother's disappearance.
“Do things like this happen around you often?” she asked.
“No.”
“Good.”
“Usually they're worse.”
Claire stared at him.
He smiled faintly.
“You're joking.”
“Mostly.”
Her apartment building appeared.
Police lights flashed outside.
Claire's stomach sank.
They entered with security.
Her door had been forced open.
Nothing valuable was missing.
Instead, the apartment had been searched.
Drawers emptied.
Books scattered.
Photographs removed from boxes.
Claire hurried toward her bedroom closet.
A metal storage case sat open.
Empty.
“No.”
Adrian followed.
“What?”
“My father's files.”
“Gone?”
“All of them.”
Claire sank onto the bed.
Years.
Everything her father had gathered.
Gone.
Adrian crouched in front of her.
“Who knew you had them?”
“Nobody.”
“Think.”
“My father.”
“Anyone else?”
Claire hesitated.
“Brooke knew I kept old family things.”
“Brooke?”
“My coworker.”
Adrian stood.
Marcus entered carrying something.
“Found this.”
It was a photograph.
Claire took it.
Her father stood outside Bellweather Medical Center.
Next to him was Rebecca.
Claire's parents.
But there was a third person.
Adrian.
Seventeen years old.
Claire looked at him.
“You said you'd never met my family.”
“I hadn't.”
“You're in the photograph.”
“I don't remember this.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I was seventeen.”
Claire turned the photo over.
Her father's handwriting covered the back.
EVELYN'S SON DOESN'T KNOW.
PROTECT HIM.
Claire looked at Adrian again.
“My father was protecting you.”
Adrian appeared shaken.
“From what?”
A sound came from the hallway.
Marcus turned.
One of his men entered.
“We found something in the kitchen.”
Claire followed them.
A wooden panel beneath the sink had been removed.
Behind it was a small metal box.
Claire recognized it.
“My father installed that.”
Marcus opened it.
Inside was a cassette recorder.
A single tape remained.
Written across it:
FOR CLAIRE AND ADRIAN.
Claire looked at Adrian.
They played it.
Static.
Then her father's voice.
“If you're hearing this together, then everything went wrong.”
Claire covered her mouth.
Her father had been dead six years.
The recording continued.
“Rebecca discovered what Victor Vale was doing at Bellweather. Evelyn tried to help her expose it.”
Adrian's face hardened.
“Both women became targets.”
Claire whispered, “Mom.”
“If Rebecca disappeared, don't believe she abandoned Claire. She would never leave her daughter willingly.”
Tears filled Claire's eyes.
Adrian stood silently beside her.
“Evelyn tried to get Rebecca out. She paid for it with her life.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
The tape crackled.
“And if Victor discovers Claire still has the key, he'll come for her too.”
Claire looked at the silver key.
“What does it open?”
Her father's recorded voice answered as though he could hear her.
“Bellweather. Room 317.”
Adrian looked at Claire.
The recording continued.
“But there's something neither of you knows.”
Static swallowed several words.
Claire leaned closer.
Her father's voice returned.
“Rebecca wasn't the only person who survived that night.”
The tape suddenly stopped.
Claire pressed play.
Nothing.
Then Adrian's phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph arrived.
It showed Claire and Adrian standing inside her apartment.
Taken seconds earlier.
From outside her window.
Below it was a message.
BRING THE KEY TO BELLWEATHER.
May you like
COME ALONE.
OR REBECCA BENNETT DIES TONIGHT.
