Chapter 10 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Missing
I reached the hospital just after six.
Mom was awake.
That should have been the only thing I cared about.
Instead, I entered her room carrying a thousand questions I was afraid to ask.
Her eyes were open.
She was pale.
There was still swelling beneath her left eye.
A nurse adjusted the monitor while Dr. Nair explained that Mom had suffered a concussion and needed close observation.
She was alert enough to recognize people, but she tired easily and still had a headache.
"We'll continue neurological checks," he said. "And I don't want anyone exhausting her with a long interview."
I nodded.
Then I moved to her bedside.
"Mom?"
She turned her head.
Her face changed.
"Kalista."
I started crying before I could answer.
I leaned down carefully and kissed her forehead.
"I'm here."
Her fingers closed around mine.
"Good girl," she whispered.
I laughed through my tears.
"Don't ever do that again."
A faint smile crossed her face.
"Get married?"
"Scare me like that."
She closed her eyes.
For a moment, I thought she'd fallen asleep.
Then she whispered, "Where's Thatcher?"
My chest tightened.
"He's safe, as far as we know."
She opened her eyes.
"That's not what I asked."
I hesitated.
"He's with Sterling."
Her expression hardened.
"Of course he is."
I sat down.
"Mom, there's so much I need to tell you."
She squeezed my hand.
"Later."
I nodded.
"Okay."
Then she whispered, "Martin."
I leaned closer.
"Martin Voss?"
Her eyes widened.
"You know?"
"We found out you hired him."
She looked toward the door.
"Don't let Sterling find him."
"Mom, nobody knows where Martin is."
She shook her head.
"He's alive."
My heart pounded.
"How do you know?"
She swallowed.
"He called me."
"When?"
"Monday."
I stared.
Monday.
Four days before the wedding.
"What did he say?"
She closed her eyes.
"He's coming back."
"From where?"
"Didn't say."
"Why?"
"Afraid."
"Of Sterling?"
She gave the smallest nod.
I looked at Dr. Nair.
He was standing near the door, watching carefully.
"One more question," I said.
Mom opened her eyes.
"Did Martin tell you where he was going?"
She tried to speak.
Then winced.
Dr. Nair stepped forward.
"That's enough for now."
I wanted to argue.
Instead, I kissed Mom's forehead.
"I'll be right outside."
She caught my wrist.
Her grip was surprisingly strong.
"Kalista."
"Yes?"
"Your brother..."
She swallowed.
"Don't trust what he says about the bridge."
I froze.
"What bridge?"
Her eyes closed.
The nurse moved closer.
"She needs rest."
I backed away.
But the words stayed with me.
The bridge.
Westhaven was a waterfront project.
There were old bridges throughout the harbor district.
Had something happened there?
Had Martin discovered something?
Or was Mom remembering a conversation from before the wedding?
I stepped into the hallway.
Naomi was waiting with Detective Ortiz.
I told them what Mom had said.
Ortiz listened without interrupting.
Then he asked, "Did she identify where Martin Voss is located?"
"No."
"Did she explain why he's hiding?"
"No."
"Did she say whether he's been threatened?"
"Not directly."
Naomi crossed her arms.
"She's recovering from a head injury. We need to avoid pushing her."
"I know."
Ortiz looked at me.
"There's something I need to tell you."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"Martin Voss isn't officially missing."
I stared.
"What do you mean?"
"There was never a missing-person report."
"But Diana said he disappeared."
"He stopped working for Sterling's company. That isn't the same as disappearing."
"Then where is he?"
Ortiz hesitated.
"We located a current address."
I felt hope rise.
"Where?"
"Vermont."
"Can we contact him?"
"We're trying."
"Does he know about Mom?"
"Not yet."
I leaned against the wall.
For months, Sterling had told everyone Martin was a thief.
He'd made it sound as though Martin had fled after stealing money.
But if Martin had been hiding because he'd uncovered fraud, he might be the one person who could explain everything.
At 7:15, Naomi received another call.
This time from Audrey.
She was crying.
"Kalista, I need to see you."
"What's wrong?"
"Thatcher came home."
I straightened.
"Is he okay?"
"He looks awful."
"What happened?"
"I don't know. But he told me to pack a bag."
"Why?"
"He said we had to leave town."
My stomach tightened.
"Don't go anywhere with him until you understand why."
"I told him that."
"And?"
Audrey began crying harder.
"He said Sterling was going to ruin us."
I looked at Ortiz.
"Put her on speaker," he said quietly.
I did.
"Audrey, Detective Ortiz is with me. Can you tell us exactly what Thatcher said?"
There was a long silence.
Then Audrey whispered, "He said the deal was falling apart."
"What deal?"
"I don't know."
"Did he say anything else?"
"Yes."
Her voice shook.
"He said Sterling had documents that could put him in prison."
I closed my eyes.
"Documents Thatcher signed?"
"I think so."
"Audrey, where is he now?"
"Upstairs."
"Can you leave safely?"
"Yes."
"Then take your purse and go somewhere public. We can arrange to meet you."
She agreed.
Before ending the call, she said something that made me grip the phone.
"Kalista, I found something in his suitcase."
"What?"
"A passport."
"His?"
"No."
I looked at Ortiz.
"Whose passport?"
Audrey swallowed.
"Martin Voss."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Ortiz said, "Audrey, don't touch anything else. We need to talk to you in person."
She agreed to meet him.
I stared at my phone.
Martin's passport.
In Thatcher's suitcase.
My brother had claimed he didn't know where Martin was.
Mom had warned me not to trust him about a bridge.
And now a missing accountant's passport was in his possession.
I felt the pieces shifting again.
The story was bigger than Sterling controlling a trust.
There was something Thatcher had done.
Something Mom knew.
Something Sterling was using against him.
I looked through the glass at Mom.
She was sleeping peacefully.
For the first time since the wedding, I understood that waking up might not be enough to save her.
Because the people who wanted her silent now knew she could speak.
And they had forty-eight hours before their financial arrangement collapsed.
At 8:02, I received a message from an unfamiliar number.
It contained no photograph.
No threat.
Just one sentence.
Your mother was right about the bridge.
A second message followed.
Ask Thatcher what happened there on April seventeenth.
May you like
Then a third.
I AM MARTIN VOSS. AND I HAVE THE RECORDING.
