Chapter 3 - The Man Who Died Twice
The ambulance doors closed before Abigail could ask what Richard meant.
Isabella rode beside her.
Matteo followed in a black sedan.
At the hospital, Abigail answered questions while a nurse wrapped a monitor around her belly.
Any bleeding?
No.
Had she fallen?
Almost.
Was someone hurting her at home?
“No,” Abigail said. “There’s nobody at home.”
Isabella looked away to give her privacy.
The baby’s heartbeat filled the room.
Fast. Steady.
Abigail pressed both hands over her face.
Only then did she cry.
Not loudly.
Just a few exhausted breaths she couldn’t control.
After observation, the doctor explained that the baby’s monitoring was reassuring. They wanted to watch Abigail longer because of the tightening and the stress.
When the doctor left, Matteo stood at the doorway.
“May I come in?”
Abigail nodded.
He stopped beside the chair, leaving space between them.
“Who can we call?”
“Nobody.”
“Your husband?”
She touched the ring.
“He died five months ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He worked for Sinclair Freight.”
Matteo’s expression sharpened.
“What was his name?”
“Daniel Foster.”
He didn’t answer quickly enough.
Abigail noticed.
“You know that name.”
“I read about the accident.”
“Everybody read about it.”
A truck on an access road. A concrete barrier. A driver who supposedly ignored safety rules and drove too fast.
The company had released its statement before Abigail finished identifying his body.
“My husband checked his tires before he drove to the grocery store,” she said. “But they called him reckless.”
Matteo took the chair.
“Did anyone contact you afterward?”
“A claims officer. Then a lawyer.”
“What did they want?”
“For me to sign something saying I wouldn’t sue.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Her voice hardened.
“They offered twelve thousand dollars. Daniel’s tools were worth more than that.”
Isabella moved closer.
“Abigail, did you recognize Richard tonight?”
“Not until he spoke to me.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded envelope.
Daniel had written the note on the back of a grocery list.
If the company calls, don’t sign anything until I explain.
He had left it on the kitchen counter the morning he died.
“I thought he meant overtime,” Abigail whispered.
Matteo read it without taking it from her hand.
His phone vibrated.
He checked the message.
The ballroom footage had been deleted from the hotel’s local system at 9:18 p.m.
Four minutes after the slap.
Abigail watched his face change.
“What?”
He told her.
She stared at the monitor, listening to her daughter’s heart.
May you like
Then she looked back at him.
“Someone erased my husband, too.”
