Officer Reyes took my phone before I could respond.
“Do not message that number.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
He held the screen toward the light.
The photograph was clear enough to identify Patrick. He stood near the rear of his SUV at Briarwood Ridge. Marcus Cole was beside him, one hand on the open hatch.
A long-handled shovel lay inside.
Ordinary object.
Wrong context.
Dad stared at it.
“Could be for anything.”
Reyes nodded. “Exactly.”
But none of us believed that explanation was enough.
The unknown sender messaged again.
You should ask about the overlook road.
Reyes copied the number.
“Can you trace it?” I asked.
“Not directly from here.”
“Who do you think it is?”
“Someone who wants you frightened or informed.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
He gave me a brief look.
“No.”
Mr. Coleman folded the insurance documents back into their evidence sleeve.
“What happens now?”
Reyes answered while texting someone.
“Local officers at Briarwood are being contacted. They’ll locate Patrick and Marcus if possible.”
“Arrest them?”
“Not unless there’s cause.”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“You have forged documents, attempted theft, and a suspicious insurance policy.”
“Different allegations require different proof.”
I understood his caution intellectually.
Emotionally, I wanted someone to lock Patrick in a room until he explained every line on that spreadsheet.
My phone buzzed in Reyes’s hand.
Unknown number again.
I know you found the policy.
He read it aloud.
A second message appeared.
That was Marcus’s idea.
Then:
But Patrick agreed.
I felt a cold pressure behind my ribs.
“Send one question,” I said.
Reyes shook his head.
“No.”
“We may lose them.”
“Or encourage whoever this is to manipulate you.”
“They already are.”
Dad said, “Let Reyes handle it.”
I turned on him.
“I spent years letting everyone else decide what information I could handle.”
His expression changed.
“You’re right.”
Reyes considered for a moment.
Then he said, “One question. Nothing personal. Nothing that reveals your location.”
I took the phone.
Who are you?
The reply came almost immediately.
Someone Patrick thought would stay quiet.
“That sounds personal,” Dad said.
I typed again.
What happened October 24?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Returned.
Finally:
Nothing yet. That was the planned date.
My hands went cold.
Planned for what?
No response.
Then a photograph arrived.
Not Patrick.
Me.
I was standing outside my office building wearing a green coat.
The timestamp in the corner showed six days earlier.
Dad swore under his breath.
Reyes took the phone.
“What the hell is this?” Jason said from the doorway.
I had forgotten he was still in the house.
He crossed the room and saw the image.
His face drained.
“Someone was following her?”
Apparently.
The next photo showed me entering a grocery store.
Another showed me driving the Honda.
Another showed me outside Dad’s house.
Different days.
Different locations.
Whoever had taken them knew my routine.
The spreadsheet’s notes suddenly felt less abstract.
Work schedule.
Family visits.
Typical habits.
Patrick had not merely documented me from inside our marriage.
Someone had watched from outside it.
Jason turned toward Dad.
“She’s not staying here without security.”
Dad nodded immediately.
I wanted to object.
I didn’t.
There was a difference between control and caution, and I was beginning to learn it.
The unknown number sent one final message.
Ask Patrick what happened to Elena Ward.
Then silence.
Reyes repeated the name.
“Elena Ward.”
Something in his voice made me look at him.
“You know that too?”
He was already searching his phone.
“Maybe.”
A minute later he found it.
Three years earlier, Elena Ward, thirty-seven, had died after falling from a ridge while hiking in northern Colorado.
The case had been ruled accidental.
She had been married to a man named Aaron Ward.
Aaron had been one of the complainants in the fraud investigation connected to Marcus Cole.
My mouth went dry.
“What does that mean?”
Reyes scrolled.
“Aaron alleged Marcus diverted money from a partnership.”
“What happened?”
“The case stalled after Elena’s death. Aaron withdrew the complaint and left the state.”
“Why?”
“Unknown.”
Dad asked, “Was Elena insured?”
Reyes looked up slowly.
“Yes.”
I felt sick.
“How much?”
“Eight hundred thousand.”
“Beneficiary?”
“Her husband.”
The room shifted around me.
“Was Marcus involved in the policy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was Aaron?”
“He was beneficiary.”
I looked at the insurance document bearing Patrick’s name.
“Did Aaron kill his wife?”
“No evidence established that.”
“But somebody thinks Marcus was involved.”
“That’s what the message suggests.”
Jason paced once across the room.
“This is insane.”
No one disagreed.
Reyes contacted a detective from the earlier fraud case.
While he waited for a callback, Dad took me into the kitchen.
“You need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know.”
He made toast anyway.
I took two bites because arguing required more energy than chewing.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“Did Patrick marry me because of you?”
He did not answer immediately.
I looked at him.
“You can say you don’t know.”
“I don’t know.”
“But what do you think?”
Dad sat across from me.
“I think Patrick may have initially been interested in you for many reasons.”
“That’s diplomatic.”
“You asked what I think, not what I fear.”
“Fine. What do you fear?”
He rubbed his hands together.
“I fear that somewhere along the way he realized your connection to me could solve his financial problems.”
That hurt more than if Dad had simply said yes.
Because I could imagine Patrick loving me at first.
Then choosing money later.
Betrayal did not need to begin on the first date to contaminate everything after it.
I remembered our wedding.
Patrick crying when I walked down the aisle.
His hands shaking while he said his vows.
Had any of that been real?
Maybe.
That possibility was somehow worse.
Reyes returned.
“The Briarwood officers found the SUV.”
“And Patrick?”
“Gone.”
“Marcus?”
“Gone.”
“Shovel?”
“Gone.”
Dad stood.
“Where did they go?”
“They don’t know yet.”
My heart started pounding.
Reyes continued.
“There’s one more thing. The cabin reservation had activity this morning.”
“What activity?”
“Patrick entered the cabin with Marcus.”
“For how long?”
“About forty minutes.”
“What were they doing?”
“No cameras inside.”
“Of course.”
“They left separately.”
The local officers were searching nearby roads and speaking with resort staff.
I thought of the message.
Ask about the overlook road.
“Tell them to check the overlook.”
Reyes already had.
He made another call.
Minutes stretched.
I stood by the window watching ordinary cars pass outside.
A delivery van.
A neighbor walking a dog.
The normal world continued with insulting indifference.
Then my phone rang from an unfamiliar local number.
Reyes nodded.
I answered on speaker.
“Jenna?”
Patrick.
His voice was low.
“Where are you?”
I looked at Reyes.
He mouthed: keep him talking.
“Why are you at Briarwood?”
Silence.
“Patrick.”
“You need to leave your father’s house.”
“Why?”
“Marcus knows you’re there.”
My skin tightened.
“How?”
“He’s had people watching you.”
“We know.”
Patrick inhaled sharply.
“How?”
“Photos.”
A long pause.
“Then you have to go.”
“Tell me what October twenty-fourth was.”
Silence.
“Patrick.”
“I was trying to get out.”
“Out of what?”
“Marcus.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“He financed my company after it started failing.”
“How much?”
“Too much.”
“And when you couldn’t repay him?”
“He wanted access.”
“To Dad?”
“Yes.”
“To me?”
Patrick’s breathing became audible.
“At first he wanted information.”
“At first.”
No answer.
“What came next?”
“Leverage.”
“What does that mean?”
“He found out about your accounts.”
“You gave him access.”
“I gave him information.”
“You forged my signature.”
“I know.”
“You took my money.”
“I know.”
“You insured my life.”
Patrick’s voice cracked.
“I know.”
The admission hollowed me out.
“Why?”
“He said it was protection.”
“For whom?”
“For the debt.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
“My death was collateral?”
“No.”
“You put a price on me.”
“No, Jenna. Listen.”
“I am listening.”
“I never intended—”
He stopped.
“Never intended what?”
No answer.
Dad turned away.
My throat tightened.
“What was supposed to happen at Briarwood?”
Patrick whispered something I could not hear.
“What?”
“We were supposed to scare you.”
The room froze.
“Scare me into what?”
“Signing the refinance.”
I closed my eyes.
“How?”
“Make you think something had happened to Dad’s company. Make you believe we were in financial danger.”
“That doesn’t explain the insurance.”
“No.”
“Then explain it.”
Patrick breathed unevenly.
“Marcus said if you wouldn’t cooperate, there had to be another way.”
Jason muttered a curse.
My knees weakened.
“And you agreed?”
“No.”
“You bought the policy.”
“He arranged it.”
“You signed the application.”
Silence.
That silence was the answer.
“Why the shovel?”
Patrick exhaled.
“Marcus brought it.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you warning me?”
“Because this morning I realized he moved the schedule forward.”
My heart stopped for a beat.
“What schedule?”
“Everything.”
“Why?”
“Because the accounts were frozen. He knows your father is investigating.”
“Where are you now?”
Another silence.
“Patrick.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Are you with Marcus?”
“No.”
Reyes gestured to keep him talking.
I asked, “What happened to Elena Ward?”
Patrick’s breathing stopped.
When he spoke again, his voice was almost a whisper.
“Who told you that name?”
“Answer me.”
“Jenna, do not say that name to Marcus.”
“What happened to her?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Then tell me what you do know.”
“Marcus used to talk about Aaron.”
“Aaron Ward?”
“Yes.”
“He said Aaron learned what happened when people broke agreements.”
Cold moved through my body.
“What does that mean?”
“I never asked.”
“You never asked?”
“I didn’t want to know.”
I laughed once in disbelief.
“That seems to be your entire defense.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I know what I did to you.”
“Then come to the police.”
He hesitated.
Dad shook his head as though Patrick could see him.
Patrick whispered, “If I do that, Marcus will think I gave him up.”
“You are giving him up.”
“No. Not yet.”
“What are you waiting for?”
A sound came through the phone.
A car door.
Patrick’s voice changed instantly.
“I have to go.”
“Where are you?”
“Jenna, listen carefully. There’s a storage unit under my company’s name. Unit 418 at Meadow Creek Storage.”
Reyes wrote it down.
“There are records there. Copies of everything Marcus had me do.”
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
“For yourself.”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest about that.”
“Give it to the police.”
“Come give it yourself.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“No.”
Then Patrick said the one thing that made my blood run cold.
“He knows about Jason.”
My brother stopped moving.
“What about Jason?”
“Marcus asked whether your brother still takes Route 12 to work.”
Jason’s face drained.
Dad grabbed the back of a chair.
“Patrick, where is Marcus?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
The line went dead.
For half a second nobody moved.
Then the room erupted.
Reyes called dispatch.
Dad called Jason’s office and told them not to let anyone into the building.
Jason demanded a patrol car.
Mr. Coleman gathered the evidence.
I stood in the center of the kitchen, hearing voices without processing them.
Patrick had finally given us something useful.
A storage unit.
A trail to Marcus.
And a warning.
Jason was no longer merely my brother.
He was leverage.
Reyes ended his call.
“We’re moving you both.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere not connected to your regular routine.”
Dad said, “I’m coming.”
Reyes shook his head.
“That may not be wise.”
Dad’s stare could have cut glass.
“You will not move my children somewhere and refuse to tell me where.”
“Richard.”
“No.”
I touched his arm.
“He’s right.”
Dad turned.
“About what?”
“If Marcus wants leverage, all of us together makes that easier.”
He hated the logic.
So did I.
Reyes arranged separate transportation.
Before leaving Patrick’s office, I looked once more at the desk.
The open drawer.
The files.
The spreadsheet.
For years, I had thought the locked room in our marriage existed inside Patrick.
Now I knew he had literally built one.
As Officer Reyes escorted us outside, his phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then stopped walking.
“What?”
He held up a hand.
Dad stepped closer.
Reyes’s face had gone pale.
“They opened the storage unit.”
My chest tightened.
“What did they find?”
He looked at me.
“Financial records. Photographs. Copies of forged documents.”
“That’s good.”
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“A second shovel.”
My stomach turned.
“And?”
Reyes hesitated.
“A photograph of the Briarwood overlook.”
He swallowed.
“There are handwritten notes on the back.”
“What do they say?”
He looked from me to Jason.
“Distance to guardrail. Camera locations. Emergency response time.”
No one spoke.
Then Reyes added the last line.
“And beneath all of it, Patrick wrote one sentence.”
My hands went numb.
“What sentence?”
He answered quietly.
If she refuses to sign, Marcus says the accident happens anyway.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: Patrick’s Hidden Storage Unit Proved He Knew the Briarwood Plan, but One Missing File Suggested He Had Been Preparing to Betray Marcus
I Arrived at My Parents’ Dinner Without the Car My Father Had Given Me, and Patrick Was Already Smiling
Part 6 of 20
