Chapter 8
We drove home with two detectives.
Nobody called it a search yet.
Not officially.
But when Detective Ruiz saw the folder taped beneath Lauren’s desk drawer, her entire expression changed.
She put on gloves.
I stood in the doorway.
Sophie sat downstairs with Daniel.
Jason had been told to go home.
He refused at first.
Ruiz threatened to remove him.
He left.
The folder was plain brown cardboard.
No label.
Inside were photographs.
Dozens.
Me leaving work.
Rachel at a grocery store.
Rachel driving Sophie to school.
Sophie on a playground.
Our house.
Our backyard.
Our old babysitter.
My mother’s apartment.
I felt like I was looking at evidence from someone else’s life.
Except I recognized every place.
Every coat.
Every car.
Every ordinary moment.
Some photographs were printed from social media.
Others were clearly taken from a distance.
I picked one up before Ruiz could stop me.
Rachel walking through a parking lot.
She was holding coffee.
Laughing at something.
Alive.
I remembered that coat.
Blue wool.
She lost one of the buttons that winter.
I had sewn it back on badly.
She teased me for weeks.
On the back of the picture, someone had written:
Thursday. 8:15. Alone.
Ruiz took it from me.
“Please don’t touch anything else.”
“Who wrote that?”
“We’ll compare handwriting.”
I already knew Lauren’s handwriting.
This wasn’t hers.
Block letters.
Probably David.
Then another photo appeared.
Me and Rachel at the fundraiser.
Lauren was visible in the foreground, turned partly away from the camera.
Rachel and I were behind her.
Someone had circled my face.
Under it:
THIS ONE?
My stomach turned.
Ruiz photographed everything.
Another detective searched the desk.
He found receipts.
A prepaid phone.
A flash drive.
And a key.
Small.
Silver.
Number 214 stamped into it.
“Storage?”
Ruiz asked.
I nodded.
“Could be.”
The second flash drive contained spreadsheets.
Transactions.
Dates.
Amounts.
Jewelry descriptions.
Rachel’s necklace.
$8,000.
Sapphire earrings.
$5,200.
Pearl bracelet.
$3,750.
Family ring.
$9,400.
Locket.
$1,100.
And more.
Things I hadn’t even known were missing.
A gold watch Rachel’s father had given her.
A set of coins from her grandfather.
Savings bonds.
Sophie’s birth bracelet.
I nearly vomited.
“She sold the hospital bracelet?”
Daniel said.
I couldn’t answer.
It wasn’t valuable.
Not really.
Maybe fifty dollars in gold.
But Rachel had saved it because Sophie wore it the day she was born.
Lauren had sold it for scrap.
Ruiz continued searching the files.
Then she stopped.
“What?”
I asked.
She turned the laptop toward me.
A document.
A timeline.
My timeline.
Mark Bennett.
Work.
Gym.
Sophie pickup.
Church.
Mom.
Daniel.
It listed where I went almost every day of the week.
Dates began eleven months after Rachel’s death.
Months before Lauren officially met me.
My hands began shaking.
“She stalked me.”
Ruiz didn’t answer.
Another document.
Things he likes.
Black coffee.
Baseball.
Hiking.
Doesn’t drink much.
Talks about daughter constantly.
Sensitive about wife.
Avoid pressure.
Give him space.
My chest tightened.
Every early conversation with Lauren replayed differently.
The coffee shop where she ordered black coffee too.
The hiking trail she claimed she loved.
The baseball game she said she had been dying to attend.
She had built herself from a list.
Ruiz clicked another file.
Sophie.
Favorite foods.
Teachers.
Friends.
Dance schedule.
Fear of thunderstorms.
Mother’s birthday.
Anniversary of death.
I stepped away.
“That’s enough.”
Ruiz closed the laptop.
Daniel was pale.
“She planned all of it.”
I walked downstairs.
Sophie sat at the kitchen table.
She looked at my face.
“It’s bad?”
I sat across from her.
“I don’t know how much I should tell you.”
“All of it.”
“You’re twelve.”
“And Mom is dead.”
Her voice was quiet.
Not angry this time.
“I keep finding out adults hid things because I was too young. Then I get older and the lies are still there.”
I had no defense.
So I told her the truth I thought she could carry.
“Lauren knew about us before we met her.”
Sophie nodded.
“She watched us?”
I hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Before Mom died?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled.
“Did she kill Mom?”
“We know she was driving the car.”
Sophie closed her eyes.
One tear slid down her cheek.
“But we don’t know exactly why everything happened.”
“She took Mom’s place.”
The sentence was barely audible.
I reached for her hand.
She let me hold it.
“She tried.”
Sophie opened her eyes.
“No.”
I frowned.
“She didn’t take Mom’s place.”
I felt something crack open inside my chest.
Sophie squeezed my hand.
“She just took our stuff.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then the doorbell rang.
Ruiz answered it.
An officer stood outside holding information about the key.
Storage unit.
Redmond.
Rented to Lauren under her maiden name.
Ruiz looked at me.
“We’re getting a warrant.”
It took two hours.
At three-forty in the morning, I stayed home with Sophie while police searched the unit.
At four-twenty, Ruiz called.
“We found property.”
My heart jumped.
“Rachel’s things?”
“Some.”
“Which?”
“The locket. Coins. Several documents. A jewelry box.”
“What about the necklace?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“What else?”
Ruiz hesitated.
“A suitcase.”
“Okay.”
“It contains clothing.”
I waited.
“Women’s clothing.”
“So?”
“Some appears consistent with items Rachel wore in photographs.”
I couldn’t speak.
“What are you saying?”
“We’ll need you to identify them.”
My skin crawled.
“Lauren kept Rachel’s clothes?”
“Possibly.”
Rachel’s clothes had been donated after her death.
At least most of them.
Lauren had helped me clean the last boxes after we got engaged.
She told me donating them would help me let go.
Had she taken them?
I went upstairs.
Opened Lauren’s side of the closet.
For the first time, I really looked.
A green scarf.
Familiar.
A cream sweater.
Maybe.
Then I saw it.
A blue wool coat.
One button sewn back on badly.
My knees buckled.
I pulled it from the hanger.
Rachel’s coat.
The one from the photograph.
The one I had repaired.
Lauren had been wearing it.
I remembered seeing her in it the previous winter.
She told me she found it at a vintage store.
I sat on the floor holding my dead wife’s coat.
Sophie appeared in the doorway.
She stared at it.
“That’s Mom’s.”
I nodded.
She came closer.
“Why did Lauren have it?”
I couldn’t answer.
Sophie touched the sleeve.
Then pulled something from the pocket.
A folded piece of paper.
Old.
Soft from being handled.
Rachel’s handwriting.
My name on the outside.
Mark.
I stopped breathing.
Sophie handed it to me.
“Dad?”
I opened the note.
It was only six lines.
Mark,
Something strange is happening.
I think someone has been following me.
I don’t want to scare you until I’m sure.
If anything happens, check the blue coat.
I hid the number there.
Love you.
R.
My heart hammered.
I searched the pockets.
Nothing.
Then Sophie pointed to the lining.
A small tear had been stitched closed.
Not Rachel’s stitching.
Newer.
I grabbed scissors from the bathroom.
Cut the thread.
Inside the lining was a business card.
On the back, Rachel had written a license plate number.
Ruiz answered my call immediately.
I read it.
She went silent.
“What?”
I asked.
Her voice changed.
“Mark, don’t touch the card anymore.”
“Why?”
“That plate belonged to a Ford Explorer.”
My chest tightened.
“David’s?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“Whose?”
May you like
Ruiz answered quietly.
“At the time of Rachel’s death, it was registered to Lauren.”
