Chapter 2 - The Woman in Room 312
Marcus pushed Naomi beneath the dining table and reached for the fireplace poker.
The back door opened three inches.
Then stopped.
“Stay down,” he whispered.
Naomi’s heartbeat hammered so loudly she could barely hear him.
The handle moved again.
Marcus crossed the room.
He yanked the door open.
No one stood outside.
Only the garden.
Empty patio.
Swimming pool.
Palm trees moving gently beyond the fence.
Marcus stepped outside.
“Who’s there?”
No answer.
Naomi crawled from beneath the table.
“Marcus.”
“Stay inside.”
He checked behind the pool house.
Nothing.
Then he saw something attached to the glass door.
A small envelope.
He removed it carefully.
Naomi opened it.
Inside was a Polaroid photograph.
Chad stood beside an unfamiliar woman.
The photograph was old enough to have been taken before the fire.
They were outside St. Matthew’s Hospital.
On the back someone had written:
SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE GONE BEFORE NAOMI WOKE UP.
Marcus cursed.
Naomi stared at the woman.
Dark hair.
Slim build.
Early thirties.
Her face was partially turned away.
“Do you recognize her?” Marcus asked.
“No.”
“Friend of Chad’s?”
“No.”
“Coworker?”
“I don’t think so.”
Naomi hated how uncertain she sounded.
Six years of marriage.
Six years of believing she knew Chad better than anyone.
Suddenly every memory felt unreliable.
That night Marcus refused to leave.
He slept in the guest room.
Naomi barely slept at all.
At 5:12 the next morning, her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Naomi?”
A woman.
The same voice from Chad’s hidden phone.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Claire.”
“Were you in my house the night of the fire?”
Silence.
Naomi sat upright.
“Claire.”
“I didn’t start the fire.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Naomi closed her eyes.
“Why?”
“I need you to understand something first.”
“No. You need to answer me.”
“I was there because Chad asked me to come.”
The words landed like a physical blow.
Naomi’s voice cracked.
“Why would my husband invite another woman to our house at two in the morning?”
Claire exhaled.
“Because he thought you were out of town.”
Naomi went still.
She had been scheduled to spend that night with her parents.
Her mother had canceled dinner because of a migraine.
Naomi had come home unexpectedly.
Chad had acted surprised but happy.
At least she had believed he was happy.
“What were you doing with my husband?”
“It wasn’t what you think.”
“Everyone says that when it is exactly what people think.”
“Naomi, please.”
“Were you sleeping with him?”
“No.”
“Then tell me why you were there.”
Claire hesitated.
“We were trying to find something.”
“What?”
“Something your husband believed was hidden inside the house.”
Naomi stared at the wall.
“What was hidden?”
“Documents.”
“What documents?”
“I can’t tell you on the phone.”
Naomi almost screamed.
“You entered my home in the middle of the night. My house burned down. I nearly died. You disappeared. My husband lied. And now you’re telling me you can’t explain it?”
“Because someone is listening.”
Naomi lowered her voice.
“Who?”
“The person Chad is running from.”
Naomi’s anger shifted.
“Running?”
“He didn’t leave because of your face.”
Naomi almost laughed.
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“He left because he believes staying near you will get you killed.”
Naomi said nothing.
Claire continued.
“The calls he’s been receiving were warnings.”
“From you?”
“Some.”
“And the others?”
Claire hesitated.
“From a man named Victor Hale.”
Naomi recognized the name.
Everyone in the city did.
Victor Hale owned Hale Development, one of the largest real-estate companies in Florida.
He donated millions to hospitals.
He appeared on television.
And Chad worked for one of Hale’s subsidiaries.
“What does Victor Hale want from my husband?”
“The same thing Chad was searching for that night.”
“The documents.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“They prove Hale Development knew several apartment buildings were unsafe before people died.”
Naomi remembered the news.
Two years earlier, a coastal apartment tower had partially collapsed.
Nine people died.
The official investigation blamed faulty renovations.
Claire’s voice became quieter.
“My sister was one of them.”
Naomi closed her eyes.
Claire continued.
“She worked in Hale’s accounting department. Before she died, she copied records showing the company had paid inspectors to ignore structural problems.”
“Why would those records be in my house?”
“Because Chad hid them there.”
Naomi’s eyes opened.
“What?”
“He found the files while auditing a subsidiary.”
Naomi felt the room tilt.
Chad was an accountant.
A senior financial analyst.
He had once joked that his job consisted of spreadsheets nobody cared about.
Apparently somebody cared very much.
“Why didn’t he go to the police?”
“He tried.”
“What happened?”
“The detective he contacted worked for Hale.”
Naomi’s throat tightened.
“Then why involve you?”
“My sister told me about the evidence before she died.”
“And you contacted Chad.”
“Yes.”
Naomi remembered the photograph.
Claire beside Chad.
Not lovers.
Partners.
At least perhaps.
“Tell me what happened during the fire.”
Claire became silent again.
“Chad called me that night because he believed someone had discovered where he hid the files. You were supposed to be at your parents’ house. We were searching the study when you came home.”
“Why didn’t I see you?”
“I hid.”
Naomi’s stomach twisted.
“Where?”
“Guest bathroom.”
She remembered Chad acting strangely.
He had insisted on making tea.
He had kept checking the hallway.
“How did the fire start?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were there.”
“I smelled gasoline first.”
Naomi stopped breathing.
Gasoline.
The fire department report blamed faulty wiring.
Claire continued.
“Someone broke a kitchen window. Seconds later the fire started.”
“Who?”
“I never saw him.”
“And you ran?”
“I tried to reach you.”
Naomi’s eyes filled with tears.
“I found Chad unconscious.”
“He wasn’t unconscious when I left him.”
Naomi froze.
“What did you say?”
Claire spoke slowly.
“When the flames spread, Chad told me to get outside and call for help. He was standing beside the stairs.”
Naomi remembered finding him there.
Unconscious.
“If he was awake, what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Naomi thought about the photograph showing Chad standing outside afterward.
Another lie.
“Why were you placed in psychiatric observation?”
“Hale had people at the hospital. Someone told doctors I was delusional after smoke inhalation. They sedated me and kept me isolated.”
Naomi looked at the bracelet.
“Room 312.”
“Yes.”
“What happened afterward?”
“Chad helped me leave before they transferred me.”
“And you disappeared.”
“I had to.”
Naomi pressed her fingers against her temple.
“So why is Chad leaving now?”
“Because Hale believes you have the files.”
“I don’t.”
“Chad thinks you might.”
Naomi laughed bitterly.
“He could have told me.”
“He wanted to protect you.”
“He abandoned me.”
Claire said nothing.
Naomi continued.
“And he spent four months acting like he couldn’t stand looking at me.”
“He hated himself.”
Naomi’s voice hardened.
“That doesn’t give him permission to make me hate myself.”
Claire was silent.
Naomi realized something else.
“Where is Chad now?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve been calling him.”
“He stopped answering yesterday.”
Fear entered Claire’s voice.
“I thought he was with you.”
Naomi stood.
“He left around six.”
“With the suitcase?”
“Yes.”
Claire inhaled sharply.
“Naomi, listen carefully.”
“What?”
“Check the suitcase.”
“He took it.”
“Not that suitcase.”
Naomi frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“Chad bought two identical suitcases after the fire.”
Naomi searched the storage closet.
Behind a stack of boxes stood another black suitcase.
She pulled it out.
Locked.
Marcus appeared in the doorway.
“What is that?”
“Claire says Chad bought two.”
Naomi found bolt cutters in the garage.
Marcus broke the lock.
Inside were clothes.
Old receipts.
A flashlight.
Nothing extraordinary.
Then Naomi noticed the lining was unusually thick.
She cut it.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a flash drive.
And a photograph.
Naomi picked up the picture.
It showed Victor Hale standing beside Chad.
Between them was another man.
Naomi recognized him instantly.
Detective Samuel Price.
The detective who had investigated their house fire.
On the back someone had written:
PRICE WAS THERE BEFORE THE FIRE DEPARTMENT.
Marcus stared at Naomi.
“That detective told us electrical wiring caused the fire.”
Naomi turned the photograph over again.
Her phone vibrated.
Claire.
Naomi answered.
“I found something.”
“Don’t say what.”
“Why?”
“Because I was right.”
Claire’s breathing became rapid.
“Someone is listening.”
A loud sound exploded through Claire’s side of the call.
Glass breaking.
“Claire?”
Another crash.
Then footsteps.
“Claire!”
Her voice became a whisper.
“They found me.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m sending you an address.”
“Call the police.”
“No police.”
“Claire—”
“If Chad contacts you, don’t tell him what you found.”
Naomi froze.
“Why?”
Claire whispered the next words so softly Naomi almost missed them.
“Because I’m no longer sure Chad is running from Victor Hale.”
A door opened on Claire’s side of the call.
She gasped.
Then whispered:
May you like
“I think Chad is working for him.”
The line went dead.
