Chapter 8 - Six Hours After Death
Claire stared at the motel image until the pixels blurred.
"They said he died at two seventeen."
Mason nodded slowly. "The report says the body reached the county morgue at three forty-one."
"Then how is he standing in front of a motel at eight twenty-three?"
Caleb stood near the kitchen doorway, pale. "Because that wasn't Noah in the truck."
Claire turned on him.
"What?"
"I didn't know for sure. I suspected."
"You suspected my husband was alive and said nothing?"
Caleb's voice broke. "He called me after midnight. He said he had a plan. He said if I heard he was dead, I had to believe it publicly."
"Why?"
"Because Voss was watching everyone."
Claire grabbed the edge of the table. Anger rose so fast it burned through the grief.
"Eleven months. I buried a casket. I slept with his jacket because it still smelled like him. I talked to a stone every Sunday."
Caleb's eyes filled. "I know."
"No. You don't know."
Mason interrupted before she could say more.
"We need to identify the body from the crash."
The key marked 214 opened a locker at the bus station in town.
Inside were two passports, eight thousand dollars in cash, and a prepaid phone.
The phone had one saved draft message.
CLAIRE, I HAD TO DISAPPEAR BEFORE I COULD PROVE IT. I THOUGHT I COULD COME BACK IN DAYS. THEN I LEARNED SOMEONE INSIDE THE SHERIFF'S OFFICE WAS WORKING FOR VOSS.
Mason read the line twice.
Claire looked at his badge.
"Someone inside your office?"
"Apparently."
The phone suddenly powered on though no one touched it.
An incoming call lit the screen.
NO CALLER ID.
Mason answered on speaker.
A man's voice said, "Claire?"
Her knees nearly folded.
She knew that voice.
"Noah?"
Silence.
May you like
Then, very softly:
"Don't trust Mason."
