Chapter 7 - Who Denise Chose

Bell called St. Matthew’s before the patrol car reached the next intersection.

“Lock down the east exit,” he said. “Do not approach the male unless you have officers present. Denise Vale may be under duress.”

He listened.

His face changed.

“What do you mean discharged?”

Claire gripped the seat beside me.

I said, “When?”

Bell held up a hand.

“Yes. Pull every camera. Now.”

He ended the call.

“She signed herself out twelve minutes ago.”

“With Raines?”

“Hospital staff says a man identifying himself as family counsel arrived with discharge clothes. Denise insisted she was leaving.”

“Why would she go with him?”

Claire’s voice was flat.

“Because that is what people do when they have been choosing the same fear for seventeen years.”

I looked at her.

“That photo may have been taken to make us think exactly that.”

Claire turned toward the window.

“Or she chose him.”

Bell called Denise.

Straight to voicemail.

Again.

Same.

Then my phone rang.

Denise.

All three of us stared at the screen.

Bell nodded.

“Answer. Speaker.”

I did.

“Denise?”

Her breathing was audible.

“Evelyn.”

“Where are you?”

“Listen to me.”

“Are you with Victor Raines?”

Claire leaned closer.

Denise went silent.

Then, very softly, “Yes.”

Bell gestured for me to keep her talking.

“Are you in danger?”

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

I said, “Do you want to be with him?”

A pause.

“Evelyn, you must stop looking for the archive file.”

“Why?”

“Because it will not help Anna.”

“Maybe it will help Claire.”

The silence on the line changed.

Claire closed her eyes.

Denise whispered, “She’s with you.”

I looked at Claire.

“Yes.”

A sound escaped Denise.

Not quite a sob.

“Claire.”

Claire leaned toward the phone.

“Hello, Denise.”

Seventeen years lived inside those two words.

Denise’s voice broke.

“I am sorry.”

Claire’s face did not move.

“I don’t need that.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Claire—”

“My mother is dead. My grandfather died believing she slipped off a dock. My husband died after Marcus threatened us. My daughter grew up learning which cars to watch in the mirror. Do not give me an apology because you are scared now.”

Denise breathed unevenly.

“I should have told the truth.”

“Yes.”

“I thought I was protecting my son.”

“You were protecting yourself.”

Denise did not deny it.

A male voice sounded faintly in the background.

We could not make out words.

Bell wrote on his phone and passed it to the officer in front.

TRACE ACTIVE.

I asked, “Denise, where are you?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You can.”

“No.”

“Is Victor listening?”

Another pause.

“Yes.”

Claire’s hand tightened around the phone seatbelt strap.

Bell leaned toward me and mouthed: KEEP GOING.

I said, “Then tell him I want to talk to him.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because he thinks you have something.”

“What?”

“The notebook.”

Claire looked at me sharply.

“Anna’s notebook?”

Denise whispered, “Yes.”

“We don’t have it.”

“Do not say that.”

“Why?”

The male voice came closer.

Denise said quickly, “Evelyn, there is a place in the Lake Mercer house. The old study. East wall. Third—”

The call cut off.

Bell swore.

He immediately dialed the trace unit.

Claire stared at me.

“Third what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Third shelf? Third panel?”

“Maybe.”

Bell listened to the trace technician.

Then he looked at us.

“Signal bounced. Last reliable location was on Route 6 east.”

“Toward the lake?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Claire stood as much as the moving car allowed.

“Then we go to the house.”

Bell shook his head.

“No.”

“My mother’s notebook may be there.”

“Which means Raines may be there too.”

“Denise just tried to tell us where.”

“And Raines cut the call.”

Claire looked at me.

“You’re going.”

Bell said, “She is not.”

I met his eyes.

“I am.”

“No.”

“Detective, if Raines thinks we have the notebook and he is going to the house to find it, you need someone who understands what Marcus hid in those finances.”

“I have your copies.”

“Not enough.”

Claire said, “I know the house.”

Bell stared at both of us.

“This is the part in every investigation where civilians decide they are uniquely necessary.”

“We are uniquely necessary,” I said.

He rubbed his face.

“You two are impossible.”

Claire answered, “Survival made us difficult.”

Bell looked at the patrol officer.

“Call tactical support. We’re going to Lake Mercer, but nobody gets out of the vehicle until the property is cleared.”

The house stood on a ridge above the water.

Old stone.

Dark windows.

A steep road curling through pines.

By the time we arrived, dusk had turned the lake black.

Two county units waited at the lower gate.

Bell spoke with them.

“No sign of vehicles?”

“One fresh track,” an officer said. “Tire pattern heavy SUV.”

Bell looked at us.

“Stay here.”

Claire said nothing.

That worried me more than argument.

Bell and the officers moved uphill.

Ten minutes passed.

Then fifteen.

A radio crackled from the front seat.

“House clear.”

I exhaled.

Bell returned.

“Denise is not there. Raines is not there.”

“Vehicle?”

“Gone.”

“What about the study?” Claire asked.

“Come with me. Slowly.”

Inside, the house smelled closed and cold.

Furniture was covered with sheets.

Dust lay across the floor except for one path of recent footprints.

Claire stopped in the foyer.

Her face emptied.

“I remember that clock.”

A tall grandfather clock stood against the stairs.

It had stopped at 12:16.

She touched the wood.

“My mother hated it. Said it was always five minutes wrong.”

I waited.

She pulled her hand back.

“Study.”

We followed the footprints.

The east wall was lined with bookshelves.

Several books lay on the floor.

One shelf had been pulled partially away from the wall.

“Someone searched here,” Bell said.

Claire walked along the shelves.

“Third.”

She counted.

Third bookcase.

Third shelf.

Nothing unusual.

I ran my fingers beneath the wood.

A groove.

“Here.”

Bell shone a light.

At the back of the shelf was a small brass latch.

Claire pressed it.

A panel opened.

Empty.

Her face collapsed.

“He got it.”

I looked closer.

“No.”

“What?”

“There’s dust everywhere except this rectangle.”

“Yes. Something was here.”

“But look.”

A narrow strip of paper was caught behind the hinge.

I pulled it carefully with tweezers from Bell’s kit.

A torn piece of lined paper.

Three handwritten words.

COUNT WHAT MOVED.

Claire covered her mouth.

“My mother.”

“You recognize the writing?”

“Yes.”

Bell photographed it.

“There may have been a notebook here.”

Claire closed her eyes.

“Raines took it.”

A floorboard creaked behind us.

Bell spun.

Denise stood in the doorway.

Alone.

Her hair was wet with rain.

There was blood on her sleeve.

“Lock the doors,” she said.

Bell crossed the room.

“Where is Raines?”

“Gone.”

“What happened?”

“He found the compartment.”

Claire stared at her.

“You brought him here.”

Denise’s face twisted.

“I had to.”

“Why?”

“Because he said he had your daughter.”

Claire went white.

“What?”

Denise stepped forward.

“He showed me a photograph. A school parking lot. Your daughter getting into a car.”

Claire grabbed her.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know!”

Bell pulled them apart.

“Claire, call whoever has your daughter.”

“My sister.”

Her hands shook so badly she dropped her phone.

I picked it up.

Claire dialed.

No answer.

Again.

No answer.

On the third call, a woman picked up.

Claire nearly collapsed.

“Rachel? Where’s Sophie?”

A pause.

Then Claire closed her eyes.

“Oh thank God.”

She leaned against the desk.

“What? No. Don’t go home. Take her somewhere public. I’ll explain later.”

She ended the call.

“She’s safe.”

Denise sank into a chair.

“He lied.”

“Of course he lied,” Claire said.

“I didn’t know.”

“You never know until after you help them.”

Denise looked at her.

The words landed.

Bell pointed at the blood.

“Whose?”

“Victor’s.”

“What happened?”

“He found the compartment and took the notebook. He said he was going to destroy it.”

“Then?”

“I hit him with the fireplace poker.”

Claire stared.

Denise gave a broken laugh.

“I should have done it seventeen years ago.”

“Where did he go?”

“North road.”

“How badly hurt?”

“Head. Shoulder. I don’t know.”

Bell called units.

I looked at the empty compartment.

“Why would Anna hide the notebook here?”

Denise said, “Because Marcus never read.”

Even Claire almost smiled.

Then Denise reached into her coat.

Bell’s hand moved to his weapon.

“Slowly.”

She pulled out a small black object.

A flash drive.

“Victor dropped this.”

Bell took it with gloved hands.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

I did.

Or I thought I did.

Palisade Risk Group had appeared in the financial records.

Dane Legal Services.

Ghost credentials.

Threats.

If Raines carried a drive while retrieving Anna’s notebook, it might contain the network Marcus had paid for.

Bell bagged it.

“We’ll image it.”

Denise looked at me.

“There is something else.”

“What?”

“Victor told me why Marcus was so desperate to find Anna’s notebook.”

Claire stood very still.

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Denise swallowed.

“Anna recorded their last argument.”