Chapter 7 - MY FATHER’S SECRET
Dad closed the door.
Detective Grant remained in the room.
“I wanted to tell you sooner.”
“Tell me what?”
He sat beside the bed.
“Six months ago, an old colleague contacted me.”
“About Julian?”
“Yes.”
My anger rose.
“You knew he was cheating?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“His company appeared in a financial intelligence review.”
I stared at him.
Dad continued.
“Large transfers. Shell companies. Money moving through overseas accounts.”
“You thought he was laundering money?”
“I didn’t know.”
“And you investigated my husband without telling me?”
“I checked quietly.”
“That is not an answer.”
He accepted that.
“You’re right.”
For once, my father looked old.
“I should have told you.”
“What did you find?”
“Enough to know Julian was lying about his finances.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I needed proof.”
I almost laughed.
“There’s that word again.”
“Audrey—”
“I could have died.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
“If you knew something was wrong, why didn’t you warn me?”
“Because at the time, I believed it was financial fraud.”
He leaned closer.
“I never imagined he would hurt you.”
Neither had I.
That was the problem.
Detective Grant interrupted.
“We need to focus on finding him.”
She placed a map on the table.
“Julian’s last confirmed sighting was near a storage facility outside Arlington.”
Dad recognized the address.
“So did I,” I said.
Julian rented a storage unit there years ago.
He claimed it held company files.
Police searched it that afternoon.
They found no Julian.
But they found something else.
Boxes.
Dozens of them.
Financial statements.
Fake invoices.
Burner phones.
Copies of my signature.
And photographs.
Photographs of me.
At the grocery store.
Driving Chloe to school.
Leaving yoga class.
Meeting my friend Rachel for coffee.
Some dated back nearly eight months.
Someone had been following me.
The crash was not a sudden decision.
It had been planned.
When Detective Grant brought me the evidence, I stared until the pictures blurred.
“Why photograph me?”
“To establish routines.”
Dad’s voice was careful.
“They needed to know when you were alone.”
I felt my stomach twist.
Then Grant showed me one image taken outside Chloe’s school.
A man stood near my SUV.
Baseball cap.
Work jacket.
His face partly turned.
Dad took the photo.
“I know him.”
Grant looked up.
“Who?”
“Marcus Vale.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Dad explained.
Former military contractor.
Dishonorable discharge.
Private security jobs.
Several arrests that never became convictions.
“And you know him how?”
Dad’s expression darkened.
“He worked on an operation with my unit twenty years ago.”
My skin prickled.
“Are you telling me Julian hired someone from your past?”
“I don’t know.”
But Dad’s face said he feared exactly that.
Grant’s phone rang.
She listened.
Then she looked at us.
“We have a hit on Vale’s vehicle.”
“Where?”
“Outside the hospital.”
Every muscle in Dad’s body tightened.
Grant called security.
I heard footsteps in the hallway.
Then the lights went out.
My room dropped into darkness.
The heart monitor switched to emergency battery power.
May you like
A red light glowed near the door.
And from the hallway came the sound of someone screaming.
