PART 6

Mark looked toward the window.

“Daniel Brooks.”

My blood ran cold.

“The investigator?”

Mark nodded.

“He wasn’t an independent investigator. He was hired through a private company connected to Victor. When the insurance claim became complicated, he was assigned to control what information reached the authorities.”

I remembered Daniel’s careful voice.

His warnings.

His offer to help.

The way he had known exactly what to ask about the box.

“He knew I found the evidence.”

“Yes.”

“And he came to my house.”

“Which means he knows where you are.”

I grabbed my phone.

“We need to call the police.”

“Not yet.”

I stared at him.

“Don’t you dare tell me what I can and can’t do again.”

Mark immediately fell silent.

I took a breath.

“We are not disappearing again. We are not hiding evidence. And we are not deciding what risks I can take without my consent.”

He nodded.

“You’re right.”

I looked at him for a long moment.

“Good. Then here’s what we’re going to do.”

For the first time in two years, I began making my own plan.

We spent the next hour organizing everything.

I photographed the documents in the wooden box and uploaded copies to an account Daniel’s messages could not access. I also contacted an attorney through a referral from a colleague at work, explaining only that I needed urgent legal assistance involving suspected financial fraud and possible identity deception.

The attorney, Melissa Grant, agreed to meet us at a public location.

She asked us not to delete messages, alter documents, or confront anyone connected to the investigation.

Then she gave us the number of a detective assigned to a financial-crimes unit.

I called him myself.

I explained that I had evidence relating to an alleged fraud scheme and that a man believed to be dead was alive and willing to speak to investigators.

The detective did not promise to solve the case overnight.

He did, however, arrange a secure meeting and instructed us to preserve the evidence.

For the first time, I felt that I was doing something more useful than hiding.

Before we left the motel, I asked Mark one final question.

“Did you ever intend to come back?”

He looked at me.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“When it was safe.”

“And how long would that have taken?”

He lowered his eyes.

“I don’t know.”

I waited.

He finally admitted that he had planned to remain hidden indefinitely if he couldn’t find a way to expose Victor without putting me in danger.

I nodded slowly.

“That means you had already decided what my future would look like.”

He didn’t deny it.

I picked up my bag.

“Then understand something, Mark. I am willing to help expose the truth. I am willing to tell the authorities what I know. But I am not promising that we will ever be husband and wife again.”

He looked as if I had struck him a second time.

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “I think I’m finally beginning to.”

The next morning, Rebecca called me.

I almost let it go to voicemail.

Instead, I answered and placed the phone on speaker while Melissa listened.

“Laura,” Rebecca said, sounding exhausted. “Thank God.”

“Don’t pretend you’re happy to hear from me.”

“I know you’re angry.”

“Angry? You have been entering my house without permission, going through my personal belongings, and discussing my husband as if he were a piece of property.”

“I can explain.”

“Then explain.”

Rebecca fell silent.

Finally, she said, “Mark is alive, isn’t he?”

I looked at him.

He nodded for me to continue.

“Yes,” I answered.