Chapter 2 - The Husband I Buried
The SUV doors slammed behind us.
Marco accelerated before Nicholas had fully sat down.
I grabbed the handle above the window.
“What is happening?”
Nicholas looked through the rear glass.
“Three vehicles following.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
“It answers the important one.”
“No, Nicholas. You lost the right to decide what’s important six months ago.”
Marco glanced into the mirror.
“Still married.”
“Drive,” Nicholas said.
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Almost.
A vehicle appeared behind us.
Marco turned sharply onto Sheridan Road.
Nicholas pulled me down.
“Stay below the windows.”
“You don't get to order me around.”
“Fine. Please stay below the windows.”
“That wasn’t better.”
“Claire.”
Something struck the rear of the SUV.
I stopped arguing.
Marco drove through two intersections before turning into an underground parking garage.
A second vehicle waited inside.
We switched cars.
Twenty minutes later, we entered a brick townhouse in Lincoln Park.
The moment the door closed, I turned on Nicholas.
“Start from the beginning.”
Nicholas removed his wet coat.
“You should change first.”
“I spent six months thinking you were decomposing in a coffin.”
He stopped.
“Talk.”
Marco quietly disappeared into another room.
Nicholas leaned against the table.
“The explosion happened at 11:17 that night.”
“I remember.”
“I was supposed to meet Victor there.”
“But?”
“Marco found a second vehicle parked behind the warehouse. No plates. He convinced me to leave through the loading entrance.”
“And then it exploded.”
“Three minutes later.”
I swallowed.
“The body?”
“There were two men inside.”
My voice softened.
“So someone actually died.”
“Yes.”
That changed something.
This wasn't merely a staged disappearance.
People had died.
“Victor thought one was you?”
“Everyone did.”
“Except Marco.”
“And three others.”
“Who?”
“People I trusted with your life.”
I folded my arms.
“You apparently didn't trust me with mine.”
Nicholas looked away.
“Claire—”
“No. Look at me.”
He did.
“Did you ever come home?”
Silence.
My stomach dropped.
“You did.”
“Twice.”
“When?”
“Once in November.”
My eyes burned.
“Where was I?”
“Asleep.”
“You stood inside our house?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn't wake me?”
“I couldn't.”
“You could.”
“If I had touched you, I wouldn't have left.”
I stared at him.
“That is supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I walked away.
Then stopped.
“How did we meet?”
Nicholas frowned.
“What?”
“I want to know whether the man standing here is still the man I married. How did we meet?”
His expression softened.
“Bellavue. You were twenty-four.”
“What happened?”
“You crashed into me carrying champagne.”
“You caught the tray.”
“And you.”
“You had two men behind you.”
“You thought they were accountants.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
“For almost a month.”
“They were offended.”
“They looked like accountants.”
“They were six-foot-four.”
“Very large accountants.”
The smile disappeared as quickly as it came.
Nicholas crossed the room.
“I remember everything.”
“Then remember what you did to me.”
“I do.”
A door opened.
Marco entered holding a tablet.
“We have a problem.”
Nicholas’s expression hardened.
“What?”
“Victor moved.”
He placed the tablet on the table.
A security image showed several men entering my house.
My house.
I stepped forward.
“That’s our kitchen.”
“Yes,” Marco said.
“What are they doing there?”
“Searching.”
“For what?”
Nicholas answered.
“Evidence.”
“Of what?”
“That I’m alive.”
Marco changed the image.
One man was opening drawers in Nicholas’s study.
Another carried boxes.
Then I remembered something.
“Wait.”
Nicholas looked at me.
“What?”
“Three weeks after your funeral, your attorney gave me a box.”
“What box?”
“He said it contained personal documents.”
Nicholas and Marco exchanged a look.
“Where is it?” Nicholas asked.
“Bank vault.”
“What was inside?”
“I never opened it.”
Nicholas stared at me.
“You never opened it?”
“I was grieving. Your lawyer told me it contained things you wanted me to have when I was ready.”
Marco muttered something under his breath.
“Which lawyer?” Nicholas asked.
“Samuel Price.”
Nicholas went still.
Marco looked at him.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?” I asked.
Nicholas answered quietly.
“Samuel Price disappeared two days before the explosion.”
A chill moved through me.
“Then who gave me the box?”
Nobody answered.
Finally Nicholas said, “Claire, we need to get into that vault.”
“And then?”
May you like
“Then we find out why someone wanted my widow to have something badly enough to pretend to be a missing man.”
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