Chapter 2: The Coat With a Secret
I didn't get into Daniel's car.
I wish I could say I was brave.
I wasn't.
I was terrified.
But something about seeing Marcus's wedding ring had broken the last piece of trust I had left.
“I'm getting a taxi,” I said.
Daniel's fingers tightened around my elbow.
“Nia, stop behaving like a child.””
A couple exiting the restaurant glanced at us.
Daniel immediately released me and laughed.
“Sorry. She's had a difficult week.””
I pulled my arm away.
“Goodnight, Daniel.””
I walked toward the main road without looking back.
My phone vibrated again.
*Don't go home. He's going to check your things.*
I typed with trembling fingers.
*Where are you?*
The reply came almost immediately.
*Somewhere he can't see me.*
I stopped beneath a streetlamp.
*Are you Marcus?*
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then:
*Yes.*
I nearly dropped the phone.
I read the word again and again, hoping the letters would rearrange themselves into something less impossible.
Then another message arrived.
*I know you have questions. But you have to trust me for ten minutes.*
I typed:
*You were dead.*
His response came quickly.
*I know what Daniel told you.*
My stomach twisted.
A taxi pulled to the curb.
I climbed inside and gave the driver the address of a twenty-four-hour café near my apartment.
Not home.
Not yet.
As the car pulled away, I looked through the rear window.
Daniel was standing outside the restaurant.
His phone was pressed to his ear.
He wasn't looking at the traffic.
He was looking directly at my taxi.
I lowered my head.
The café smelled of burnt coffee and wet coats.
I chose a table near the back, ordered tea I couldn't drink, and checked the time.
9:48 p.m.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered immediately.
“Marcus?””
“Nia.””
I closed my eyes.
It was him.
Not a recording. Not an impersonator.
His breathing was uneven, and there was a familiar roughness in his voice that I remembered from winter mornings when he'd wake up with a sore throat.
“Where are you?”” I whispered.
“I can't tell you that yet.””
“Three years, Marcus. Three years!””
My voice cracked.
“Do you have any idea what I went through?””
“I know.””
“No, you don't!””
“I saw you at the memorial.””
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What memorial?””
“The one Daniel organized.””
I stared at the window.
There had never been a funeral.
There had been a memorial service because no body had been recovered.
Daniel had stood beside me throughout the entire ceremony. He had given a speech about friendship, loyalty, and the unbearable cruelty of losing someone too young.
He had cried.
I remembered his tears.
“You were there?”” I whispered.
“Yes.””
“Where?””
“Across the street.””
I covered my mouth.
“Why didn't you come to me?””
A long silence followed.
Then Marcus said something that made my blood run cold.
“Because Daniel was holding your hand.””
I couldn't speak.
“Listen carefully,” Marcus continued.
“You need to go somewhere safe. Don't tell Daniel you spoke to me. Don't confront him. And whatever you do, don't open any messages he sends you.””
“Why?””
“Because he's been watching you.””
I looked toward the café entrance.
“Watching me how?””
“Nia, I need you to understand something. My disappearance wasn't an accident.””
My tea cup rattled against its saucer.
“What are you saying?””
“Daniel arranged it.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
“I'm sorry.””
“No, Marcus. Daniel searched for you. He paid investigators. He helped me speak to the police.””
“He helped you stop looking.””
The words landed like a slap.
I remembered the private investigator Daniel had recommended.
The one who supposedly exhausted every lead after six months.
I remembered Daniel telling me not to waste money on false hope.
I remembered the bank transfer he had made to cover the investigator's final invoice.
“Why?”” I whispered.
“Because I found something in our company accounts.””
“What?””
“Money was disappearing. Millions, Nia. Daniel had been moving it through shell companies. When I confronted him, he told me I was misunderstanding the transactions.””
“And then?””
“He tried to buy my silence.””
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“Why didn't you go to the police?””
“I did.””
“And?””
“By the time they checked the accounts, the records had been altered. Then I was attacked. My car went into the river. I barely got out.””
I swallowed.
“Was there blood in your car?””
“Yes.””
“Your watch?””
“Daniel took it.””
The café suddenly felt too small.
“Marcus, I don't understand. Why did he tell me you were dead?””
“Because he needed time.””
“For what?””
“To take everything.””
Before I could ask another question, the call ended.
I stared at the screen.
Then my phone vibrated.
A photograph.
It showed the coat Daniel had given me for Christmas.
The message underneath read:
*Left pocket. Now.*
I almost laughed.
It was absurd.
A dead man was texting me instructions about a coat.
But I couldn't ignore him.
I had worn that coat to Daniel's birthday dinner months ago. I had taken it to the dry cleaner twice. I had hung it in my bedroom closet.
I needed to get it.
I waited another twenty minutes before ordering a taxi home.
When I arrived, the apartment was dark.
Daniel had a key.
He had always had a key.
I stood outside the door, listening.
Nothing.
I entered and turned on the hallway light.
The apartment looked exactly as I had left it that morning.
Except for one thing.
My bedroom closet door was open.
I never left it open.
I walked slowly toward it.
My camel coat hung at the end of the rail.
I pulled it down and searched the left pocket.
At first, I found nothing.
Then my fingers touched something sewn into the lining.
A small rectangular object.
I took a pair of scissors from the bathroom and carefully cut the stitching.
A black USB drive fell into my palm.
My phone vibrated.
*Found it?*
I typed:
*What is this?*
*The reason Daniel needed me dead.*
Another message followed.
*There is also something you need to know about yourself.*
I frowned.
*What?*
The reply took almost a minute.
*Three years ago, you signed a document Daniel told you was insurance paperwork.*
My heart started racing.
I remembered that night.
After Marcus disappeared, Daniel had brought me a folder.
He had said the company needed some signatures because Marcus's estate and business interests were complicated.
I had been exhausted.
I had signed wherever he pointed.
*What document?*
The answer came.
*A power of attorney.*
I stared at the screen.
*You gave Daniel authority over your accounts, your property, and anything you inherited from me.*
My knees weakened.
Marcus and I had never married.
But we had shared an investment property, savings, and several company shares that were held jointly.
Daniel had handled everything after the disappearance.
I had trusted him.
The phone vibrated again.
*Nia, he didn't just steal from the company. He used your signature to steal from you.*
I heard a car door slam outside.
Then footsteps.
Keys rattled against the front door.
Daniel.
I shoved the USB drive into my bra and hurried toward the living room.
The door opened.
Daniel entered carrying a small paper bag.
He smiled when he saw me.
“Hey, sweetheart.””
I forced myself to smile.
“Hi.””
He put the bag on the counter.
“I brought you something.””
“What?””
“Your favorite lemon cake.””
He kissed my forehead.
His coat smelled of expensive cologne and rain.
Then he glanced toward the bedroom.
“Have you been looking for something?””
My throat tightened.
“No. Why?””
He looked back at me.
“Your closet door was open when I came in.””
I said nothing.
Daniel slowly removed his gloves.
“Nia, I need you to tell me something.””
“What?””
“Did anyone contact you tonight?””
I felt the USB drive pressing against my skin.
I looked into the eyes of the man who had spent three years pretending to be my protector.
“No,” I said.
He smiled.
“Good.””
Then he reached into his pocket and placed something on the counter.
My phone.
Not the one in my hand.
An old phone.
The one I had used three years ago.
The one I had given to the police after Marcus disappeared.
Daniel looked at me.
“Because someone has been trying to get in touch with you.””
He turned the old phone over.
Its screen lit up.
There was one saved voicemail.
From Marcus.
Timestamped three years earlier.
*11:42 p.m. — The night he disappeared.*
Daniel pressed play.
A distorted voice filled the apartment.
“Nia, if you hear this, don't trust—”
Daniel stopped the recording.
He looked at me.
“Funny, isn't it?””
I couldn't breathe.
“Funny how some people refuse to stay buried.””
Then he smiled again.
May you like
And asked the question I had been dreading.
“Where did you put the USB drive?””
