Chapter 5 - WORTH MORE DEAD
“No.”
I couldn’t stop staring at the number.
Seven hundred fifty thousand dollars.
My life reduced to a dollar amount.
Megan whispered, “Jesus.”
Natalie looked sick.
Detective Harris placed the policy inside an evidence sleeve.
“How recently did you have a medical exam?”
“Medical exam?”
“For insurance.”
“I didn’t.”
He nodded slowly.
“That’s another problem.”
The application included my medical history.
My Social Security number.
My employer.
My mother’s maiden name.
Everything was accurate.
Ryan knew all of it.
Of course he did.
He was my husband.
Or at least I had believed he was.
Suddenly every innocent question he had ever asked felt different.
What was your first pet’s name?
What street did you grow up on?
What bank did your grandmother use?
I had handed him the keys to my identity one conversation at a time.
Harris escorted us home after midnight.
The next morning, Monica came over.
When I told her about the insurance policy, she stopped taking notes.
“Claire, I want you somewhere else for a few days.”
“I’m not leaving my house.”
“This isn’t about giving Ryan the house. It’s about keeping you safe.”
“He’s a liar, not a murderer.”
Even as I said it, I heard how stupid it sounded.
Monica didn’t argue.
She didn’t have to.
Natalie did.
“You don’t know what he is.”
I looked at her.
“Do you?”
Her silence answered me.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Natalie stood by the kitchen window.
For the first time since I met her, she looked scared.
“Eight years ago, I fell down our basement stairs.”
I waited.
“Ryan said it was an accident.”
“Wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know.”
The room went cold.
She rubbed her arms.
“We were arguing. I turned away from him. The next thing I remember, I was at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Did he push you?”
“I never saw his hands touch me.”
“But?”
“He increased my life insurance four months earlier.”
My stomach twisted.
“Why didn’t you report that?”
“Because I didn’t know until after I left him.”
Megan whispered, “What the hell?”
Natalie looked ashamed.
“I spent years telling myself I was paranoid.”
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
Not because I suddenly trusted her completely.
Because I understood what it felt like to question your own memory.
That evening, Detective Harris called.
They had executed a warrant on Ryan’s office.
They found two computers and several external drives.
“Anything useful?”
“We’re still going through them.”
Then he paused.
“What?”
“Ryan purchased a plane ticket.”
My chest tightened.
“To where?”
“Mexico City.”
“When?”
“Flight leaves tomorrow morning.”
“He can’t leave. He’s under investigation.”
“Correct.”
“So arrest him.”
“We’re working on it.”
“Working on it?”
“Claire, his current charges are financial. We need probable cause for additional charges, and his attorney is already challenging the search.”
I paced across my living room.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Stay somewhere secure tonight.”
I hated hearing that.
I hated feeling afraid inside my own home.
But at nine, I packed a bag.
Natalie offered me her guest room.
I almost said no.
Then my security camera sent an alert.
MOTION DETECTED — FRONT PORCH.
I opened the app.
Ryan stood outside my house.
He looked directly into the camera.
May you like
Then he smiled.
And held up my missing passport.
