Chapter 3 - SARAH’S LETTER ACCUSED SOMEONE INSIDE THE FAMILYRichard did not open Sarah’s letter in the hospital room.
Not with Claire outside.
Not with Michael somewhere down the hallway.
He slipped it into the inner pocket of his coat.
Then he kissed Noah’s forehead and walked out.
Claire was talking to a social worker.
Her voice was soft.
Concerned.
Almost trembling.
“I love that child as if he were mine.”
Richard nearly laughed.
The social worker noticed him.
“Mr. Bennett, I’d like to speak with you too.”
“In a minute.”
He looked at Michael.
“Come with me.”
Michael didn’t argue.
They walked to an empty consultation room.
Richard closed the door.
“You saw him outside.”
Michael went still.
“Noah said he saw you through the kitchen window.”
Michael looked away.
“You saw your six-year-old son freezing outside.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then tell me what it was like.”
Michael pressed both hands against the table.
“I thought Claire was going to let him back in.”
“You saw him.”
“Yes.”
“Crying?”
“Yes.”
“Knocking?”
“Yes.”
“And you closed the curtain.”
Michael’s voice cracked.
“I know.”
Richard slammed his palm against the table.
“WHY?”
Michael jumped.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then:
“Because Claire said if I opened that door, she would call the police.”
Richard stared.
“For what?”
Michael swallowed.
“She said she’d tell them I hit Noah.”
Silence.
Richard’s anger shifted.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“No!”
“Then why were you afraid?”
Michael looked toward the closed door.
“Because she had video.”
“What video?”
“Edited video.”
Richard frowned.
“Claire recorded an argument two months ago.”
“With Noah?”
“With her.”
“She was screaming at him. I grabbed her arm and pulled her away.”
“And?”
“She cut the footage so it looks like I shove Noah.”
Richard felt cold.
“She threatened to report you?”
“Not just report me.”
Michael sat.
“She said she’d make sure I lost custody.”
Richard stared at his son.
“So you allowed your child to freeze because you were afraid of losing custody of the child you were allowing to freeze.”
Michael covered his face.
“I know how it sounds.”
“It sounds insane.”
“I thought it would be five minutes.”
“His legs are frozen.”
“I didn’t know she’d leave him there that long.”
“You were inside!”
“I went upstairs.”
“Why?”
“Because I couldn’t watch.”
Richard stepped back.
The sentence disgusted him.
Michael began crying.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
“I’m a coward.”
Richard said nothing.
“I knew something was wrong with Claire months ago.”
“What?”
“She started controlling everything Noah did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She said if I involved you, she’d destroy me.”
“You believed her?”
Michael laughed bitterly.
“She already had.”
Richard looked at him more carefully.
“What does that mean?”
Michael’s eyes shifted.
Another secret.
“Say it.”
“Claire has access to my company accounts.”
“So?”
“She found transfers.”
“What transfers?”
Michael didn’t answer.
Richard’s patience vanished.
“Michael.”
“I was paying someone.”
“Who?”
“A private investigator.”
Richard frowned.
“To investigate Claire?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Michael looked at him.
“Sarah.”
Richard stopped breathing.
“She’s dead.”
“I know.”
“Why investigate a dead woman?”
“Because two months ago I received an email from an account that belonged to her.”
Richard’s skin prickled.
“What did it say?”
Michael pulled out his phone.
He opened a screenshot.
Subject:
YOU MARRIED THE WOMAN WHO WAS THERE THAT NIGHT.
Below it:
Ask Claire why she lied about knowing Sarah.
Richard stared at the words.
“When did you get this?”
“Eight weeks ago.”
“Who sent it?”
“It came from Sarah’s old address.”
“Could someone access it?”
“I didn’t know.”
“So you hired an investigator.”
“Yes.”
“What did he find?”
Michael looked sick.
“Claire knew Sarah before the accident.”
Richard remembered the photograph Noah had described.
Claire.
Sarah.
Red SUV.
“Where?”
“They worked together briefly at a nonprofit foundation.”
“How long?”
“Four months.”
“And Claire told us she met you after Sarah died.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
Michael hesitated.
“The investigator found a police report.”
Richard leaned forward.
“What report?”
“Two weeks before Sarah died, she reported someone following her.”
Richard’s pulse increased.
“Did she name Claire?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Michael looked down.
“She named me.”
Richard stared.
“You?”
“She told police she thought I was tracking her car.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Why would she think that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Were you having problems?”
Michael looked away.
There.
Another lie.
Richard stepped closer.
“You told everyone your marriage was happy.”
“It mostly was.”
“What does mostly mean?”
Michael didn’t answer quickly enough.
“You were cheating.”
“No.”
“Sarah was?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Michael’s eyes filled.
“She wanted to leave me.”
Richard froze.
“Why?”
“Because she discovered something about the Bennett Foundation.”
Richard felt a cold pressure behind his ribs.
The family foundation.
His foundation.
The charitable organization he had built twenty-five years earlier.
“What did she discover?”
“I never knew.”
“Did you ask?”
“She said if she told me, she’d put me in danger.”
Richard almost laughed at the familiar pattern.
Secrets disguised as protection.
Michael continued.
“Three days later, she changed her mind.”
“About leaving?”
“No.”
“About telling me.”
Richard stopped.
“What did she say?”
“She called me.”
“When?”
“The night she died.”
“And?”
Michael’s face twisted.
“She said, ‘I know who’s doing it.’”
Richard stared.
“Doing what?”
“She wouldn’t say over the phone.”
“Then?”
“She said she was driving home.”
The red SUV.
The wet highway.
The crash.
Michael’s voice dropped.
“She never made it.”
Richard reached inside his coat.
Sarah’s envelope suddenly felt like a weight against his chest.
He still didn’t tell Michael.
Not yet.
“What did your investigator find about Claire?”
Michael looked toward the door.
“Something I didn’t believe.”
“What?”
“He found traffic-camera footage from the night Sarah died.”
May you like
Richard’s heart pounded.
“Claire’s car was less than a mile behind Sarah.”
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