Chapter 10 - Her Sister’s Car
Claire had not spoken to her younger sister, Rachel Mercer, in nearly three months.
The distance had started after a stupid argument about their mother’s treatment schedule and grown into something neither of them had repaired.
But Rachel had no reason to be with Meridian’s security chief at three in the morning.
Claire called her.
No answer.
She called again.
Straight to voicemail.
Arthur said, “Do not go to her apartment.”
Claire gave him a look.
“I know that look,” he said. “It’s the look clients give me before doing exactly what I told them not to do.”
“I’m not going alone.”
“That is not the reassuring sentence you think it is.”
They reached Rachel’s building with security forty minutes later.
Her apartment door was unlocked.
Claire’s heart slammed against her ribs.
“Rachel?”
No answer.
The living room looked untouched. Purse on the chair. Keys in a ceramic bowl. Half a cup of coffee on the counter.
Then Claire saw the broken phone near the balcony door.
She ran to it.
Arthur caught her arm. “Don’t touch anything.”
The screen was cracked but lit up when a notification arrived.
A message preview appeared.
ROBERT: You were supposed to destroy it.
Claire stared.
Arthur called police.
Twenty minutes later, detectives were inside.
Rachel was still missing.
A building camera showed her leaving at 3:31 a.m. with Robert Lane. She did not appear restrained. In fact, she seemed to be arguing with him while walking quickly toward his car.
One detective asked, “Did your sister work for Meridian?”
Claire said, “No.”
Then she remembered.
“Wait. She consulted once. Digital archive project. Maybe six years ago.”
Arthur looked at her sharply. “Did she have systems access?”
“Back then, yes.”
Claire’s phone rang.
Rachel.
She answered immediately. “Where are you?”
Silence.
Then Rachel whispered, “Claire, don’t say my name.”
Claire turned away from the detectives.
“Are you safe?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where’s Lane?”
“He thinks I’m helping him.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Helping him do what?”
Rachel’s breathing shook.
“Find the original ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“The one Dad kept.”
Claire felt the air leave the room.
Their father had been dead for eleven years.
Rachel whispered, “Claire, Ethan didn’t start this.”
A door slammed somewhere near her.
Rachel spoke fast.
May you like
“Dad did.”
The call went dead.
