Chapter 7 - The First Attempt
I thought the death certificate applications would be the worst thing investigators found that night.
I was wrong.
At two in the morning, Mercer asked me to come downstairs.
The hotel had given investigators a private conference room.
On the table sat photographs from my parents’ house.
One showed the locked cabinet.
Another showed files labeled with my name.
A third showed a folder marked INCIDENTS.
“What incidents?”
Mercer hesitated.
That terrified me.
“Did you have a serious car accident four years ago?”
I stared at him.
“Yes.”
My brakes failed on the West Side Highway.
The mechanic said a hydraulic line had cracked.
I spent three days in the hospital.
Mercer slid a receipt across the table.
It came from a private auto shop in Queens.
The work description read hydraulic line modification.
The vehicle identification number was mine.
I stopped breathing.
“No.”
“We have not proven who ordered the work.”
“Why was this in Dad’s cabinet?”
“We’re asking the same question.”
I remembered Mom arriving at the hospital that night.
She had cried dramatically.
Dad had stood beside my bed and said I was lucky.
Lily had complained that the accident forced everyone to cancel her birthday dinner.
I had apologized.
I actually apologized.
Mercer showed me another document.
Two years ago, I became violently ill after Christmas dinner at my parents’ house.
Everyone else was fine.
Doctors blamed food poisoning.
In Dad’s folder was a printed page about medications that could cause severe gastrointestinal symptoms without leaving obvious traces.
My hands began shaking.
“There’s more?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“There was an incident in your building last year.”
I knew immediately.
A gas leak.
The building evacuated at three in the morning.
My unit had registered the highest concentration.
Investigators originally blamed an improperly sealed valve.
Mercer placed another photograph before me.
It showed my building’s maintenance schematic.
My apartment number was circled.
I pushed back from the table.
My chair scraped across the floor.
“These weren’t accidents.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“You know.”
“Claire.”
“You know.”
Mercer remained silent.
That was enough.
Behind us, the door opened.
Lily stood there.
She had changed out of her wedding gown and into a hotel robe.
Her face was white.
“I heard.”
I looked away.
She whispered.
“Claire, I didn’t know.”
“Neither did I.”
She stepped into the room.
Then she placed something on the table.
Andrew’s second phone.
“I found it sewn inside his overnight bag.”
Mercer immediately put on gloves.
Lily stared at me.
“He got a message before the ceremony.”
“What did it say?”
Her voice broke.
May you like
If Claire refuses tonight, move to Plan B.
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