Chapter 10 - THE HOUSE
We drove home faster than I had ever driven in my life.
I called Melissa three times.
No answer.
Michael called Emma’s tablet.
Nothing.
By the time we reached the driveway, my hands were shaking.
The front door stood open.
I ran inside.
“Emma!”
No answer.
Michael rushed toward the stairs.
Then Melissa appeared from the kitchen.
“Claire?”
I nearly collapsed.
“Where is Emma?”
“Upstairs.”
“Why weren’t you answering?”
“My phone died.”
I grabbed her shoulders.
“Is she okay?”
“Yes.”
She looked confused.
“What happened?”
Michael headed toward his office.
The door was open.
A desk drawer had been pulled out.
His laptop was gone.
“Someone was here,” he said.
Melissa’s face changed.
“What?”
“I was in the backyard with Emma for maybe twenty minutes.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No.”
Rachel examined the office.
Nothing else appeared missing.
Just the laptop.
Michael cursed under his breath.
Then Emma appeared at the stairs.
“Mom?”
I hurried to her.
She held something in her hand.
“What’s that?”
“A lady gave it to me.”
Every adult in the room froze.
“What lady?”
“She came to the back gate.”
Michael knelt.
“What did she look like?”
“Brown hair.”
“Did she tell you her name?”
Emma nodded.
“Karen.”
Michael and Rachel exchanged a look.
I saw it.
“Who is Karen?”
Michael stood slowly.
“Our company controller.”
My blood ran cold.
Emma handed me a white envelope.
Inside was a single note.
TELL MICHAEL TO STOP DIGGING.
There was no signature.
Rachel photographed it.
Michael paced.
“This is bigger than Mom.”
I looked at him.
“You think?”
“Karen has worked for the company for twenty-two years.”
Robert had called her Diane’s shadow more than once.
Rachel checked the server activity.
“Karen’s credentials accessed the archive last month.”
Michael stopped pacing.
“So she’s the person inside.”
“Possibly.”
I looked at Emma.
A stranger had approached my eight-year-old daughter because grown adults were trying to hide financial crimes.
Something inside me hardened.
“No more secrets.”
Michael turned.
I held up the note.
“No more protecting your mother.”
“I’m not.”
“No more protecting the company.”
“I won’t.”
“No more deciding I can’t handle the truth.”
His face fell.
“I understand.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You will.”
I handed him the note.
“Because whoever brought this to my child just made me part of this.”
Rachel’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
Nobody spoke.
A woman whispered, “Tell Lauren to leave Chicago.”
Then the call disconnected.
Lauren stared at us.
May you like
“That was Karen.”
*
