Chapter 12 - The Forty-Three Minutes That Stole My Wife
I had spent fourteen months remembering Lauren's death as one terrible moment.
A truck crossing the median.
Twisted metal.
A telephone call.
A hospital corridor.
The doctor who couldn't look me in the eye.
But now I understood that the truth might have begun long before the crash.
With meetings.
Transfers.
False documents.
Threats.
A canceled security escort.
And forty-three minutes.
Forty-three minutes between the collision and the testimony Lauren never gave.
I stood in my study holding Evelyn Shaw's letter.
Marcus watched me carefully.
"Daniel, Keene is contacting the investigators who handled the original crash."
I nodded.
"Good."
"We're also preserving the old dispatch records."
"Good."
"And the meeting with Charles?"
I looked up.
"We're not going."
Marcus exhaled.
"That's the right decision."
I turned toward the window.
"At least not alone."
He frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean Charles wants to talk."
"Daniel—"
"And I want to hear what he has to say."
Marcus shook his head.
"Not without coordination."
I faced him.
"Then coordinate it."
An hour later, Keene returned.
He had contacted a federal attorney whose office was reviewing the financial materials.
The attorney had agreed to receive the preserved evidence and evaluate whether an investigation was warranted.
I wanted arrests.
I wanted Richard dragged out of his estate.
I wanted Charles to explain every lie.
But Keene reminded me that accusations were not convictions.
And if I acted carelessly, I could destroy the very case Lauren had been building.
So I agreed to wait.
For the first time in my life, waiting felt harder than acting.
That afternoon, Annie found me sitting in Lauren's old bedroom.
Her clothes still hung in the closet.
Her perfume remained on the dresser.
A paperback novel lay beside the bed.
I had never been able to remove it.
Annie knocked softly.
"May I come in?"
I nodded.
She stepped inside.
"The boys are painting downstairs."
"Okay."
She hesitated.
"Jordan asked if you'd join them."
I looked down.
"I will."
Annie remained by the door.
For a moment, I thought she would leave.
Instead, she said, "You don't have to punish yourself every minute of the day."
I looked up sharply.
"What?"
She gestured toward the room.
"I know that look."
"What look?"
"The one people get when they keep replaying the last conversation they had with someone."
I stared at her.
She lowered her eyes.
"I did it after my aunt died."
I said nothing.
"For months, I kept thinking about every time I was impatient."
She gave a sad smile.
"Every time I said I was too busy."
I looked at Lauren's pillow.
"I was too busy."
Annie waited.
"She asked me to listen."
My voice cracked.
"And I told her it could wait."
Annie approached slowly.
"Mr. Morrison—"
"Daniel."
She stopped.
I looked at her.
"Please."
She nodded.
"Daniel."
I rubbed my face.
"I built this house for her."
Annie glanced around.
"I bought everything she wanted."
I laughed bitterly.
"Anything money could purchase."
My eyes burned.
"And when she needed ten minutes of my time, I couldn't give her that."
Annie sat in the chair beside the bed.
"Did your wife love you?"
I looked at her.
"Yes."
"Did she know you loved her?"
"Yes."
"Then don't reduce your entire marriage to the worst conversation you ever had."
I stared at her.
She continued.
"People are more than the mistakes they make."
I looked away.
"Sometimes mistakes have consequences."
"They do."
Her voice softened.
"But your boys are still here."
I closed my eyes.
"They need you."
She paused.
"And I think Lauren knew you would find your way back to them."
I wanted to argue.
Instead, I sat in silence.
Annie stood.
"I should go check on lunch."
At the doorway, she turned.
"Daniel?"
"Yes?"
"Jordan said something this morning."
My pulse quickened.
"What?"
"He said Mommy always told him that brave people aren't the ones who never get scared."
I looked up.
"She used to say that."
Annie smiled faintly.
"He said brave people are the ones who come back when they're scared."
I covered my mouth.
Because those were Lauren's exact words.
She said them whenever Jordan was afraid of the dark.
Whenever Justin refused to try something new.
Whenever I was preparing for a difficult decision.
"Come back," she used to tell me.
"That's what courage looks like."
Annie left.
I sat alone for another minute.
Then I stood.
I closed Lauren's book.
Straightened the blanket.
And went downstairs to paint with my sons.
For nearly an hour, we made a terrible mess.
Justin painted a dinosaur purple.
Jordan painted a boat with three enormous birds.
I painted what was supposed to be a lighthouse.
Both boys laughed at my effort.
"That looks like a carrot," Justin announced.
Jordan nearly fell off his chair laughing.
And I laughed too.
Later, while the boys were washing their hands, Marcus called me aside.
"We have a problem."
I followed him into the hall.
"What?"
"Keene obtained information from the company that managed Lauren's security escort."
"And?"
"The escort wasn't canceled by Charles."
I frowned.
"Who canceled it?"
Marcus looked grim.
"The cancellation was issued using your executive authorization."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"Your credentials."
"That's impossible."
"I know."
"Where was I that morning?"
"At the Midtown office."
I remembered.
I had been preparing a presentation.
My calendar was packed.
I hadn't known Lauren was going anywhere near federal investigators.
"Someone used my authorization?"
Marcus nodded.
"That's what the records show."
I felt sick.
"Who had access?"
"We're checking."
Then his phone vibrated.
He read the message.
His face changed.
"What?"
He looked up.
"The authorization request originated from your home network."
I stared toward the staircase.
The house where my wife had lived.
The house where my sons were frightened.
The house Rebecca had controlled.
"Who was home?"
Marcus hesitated.
"Rebecca."
I felt rage rise.
Then he continued.
"And one other person."
I stared at him.
"Who?"
He swallowed.
"Your father."
For a moment, everything went silent.
Then a new message arrived on my phone.
It was from Richard Morrison.
Daniel, we need to discuss what you've found. Come to Greenwich. Alone.
I looked at the screen.
Then at Marcus.
And I finally understood something Lauren had understood long before me.
May you like
My father wasn't afraid of losing control of the company.
He was afraid of losing control of me.
