PART 3
His name was written across the front in Claire’s handwriting.
Not Daniel.
Not My husband.
Just:
Daniel Mercer
There was no return address.
His fingers trembled slightly as he opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
He read the first sentence.
Then the second.
By the third, his face had gone completely white.
Daniel,
You asked me to leave our marriage without ever saying the words.
You left me at O’Hare during a blizzard because I wouldn’t sign away my father’s property.
So I listened.
Daniel lowered the paper.
“Where is she?”
Elena folded the towel in her hands.
“She told me not to tell you.”
“You work for me.”
Elena’s eyes hardened.
“No, Mr. Mercer. I work for the household.”
Daniel stared at her.
“For fourteen years, I’ve paid your salary.”
“Yes.”
“And I expect you to tell me where my wife is.”
Elena slowly shook her head.
“Mrs. Mercer told me that if you asked, I should remind you of something.”
“What?”
“She said, ‘For nineteen years, Daniel always believed that because he knew where I slept, he knew where I was.’”
Daniel’s expression tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know.”
“I know she doesn’t want you to find her.”
Daniel slammed the letter against the table.
“She is my wife!”
Elena didn’t flinch.
“Was that why you left her at the airport?”
The question landed harder than a shout.
Daniel stared at her.
Elena picked up another towel.
Then she walked away.
“Wait.”
She stopped.
“What else did she take?”
Elena turned around.
“Her passport.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed.
“Anything else?”
“Her mother’s jewelry.”
He frowned.
“That’s all?”
“No.”
“What?”
Elena hesitated.
“She took the blue folder.”
Daniel’s stomach dropped.
“What blue folder?”
Elena looked at him for several seconds.
“The one you’ve been searching for since October.”
Daniel said nothing.
The folder.
He had spent months looking for it.
He had asked Claire about it three times.
She had always told him the same thing.
It’s somewhere safe.
Daniel had assumed it contained old family papers.
He had been wrong.
“Where did she find it?”
“She didn’t.”
Elena’s voice was quiet.
“She already had it.”
Daniel’s mind began racing.
“What was inside?”
“I never opened it.”
“You saw it.”
“Yes.”
“What did Claire do with it?”
Elena looked toward the staircase.
“She took it with her.”
Daniel suddenly remembered something.
Six months earlier, Claire had started spending afternoons in her father’s old study.
At the time, Daniel hadn’t cared.
He had assumed she was grieving.
Her father had died nearly a year earlier, leaving Claire the lake house on Lake Michigan and a collection of investments Daniel had always considered unnecessarily complicated.
The lake house itself wasn’t particularly valuable.
The land was.
Much of the shoreline around it had recently been rezoned for a massive development project.
Developers had been circling the property for months.
Daniel had seen the numbers.
The Mercer family could receive several million dollars if Claire sold.
But Daniel didn’t want her to sell outright.
He wanted the property transferred into a trust.
His trust.
His attorneys had explained that it would protect the asset from taxes, lawsuits, and “future marital complications.”
Daniel knew what that phrase meant.
He had never said it aloud to Claire.
But she had understood.
She always understood more than he thought she did.
He walked toward the study.
“Elena.”
“Yes?”
“Did Claire leave anything else?”
Elena hesitated.
“A note.”
“Where?”
“In the study.”
Daniel entered the room.
The curtains were still closed.
Claire had always preferred natural light, so she would normally have opened them before breakfast.
Daniel pulled them apart.
Gray winter sunlight spilled across the room.
Everything looked untouched.
The leather chair.
The bookshelves.
The old wooden desk.
The framed photograph of Claire and her father at the lake.
Daniel walked toward the desk.
On top of it sat another envelope.
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Claire stood beside her father.
She was twenty-six.
Daniel was not in the picture.
On the back, Claire had written:
He taught me one thing before he died: never confuse love with ownership.
Daniel stared at the words.
Then he turned the photograph over.
Behind it was a second note.
This one was addressed to Elena.
Daniel read it anyway.
Elena,
Thank you for everything.
Please don’t let him sell the house.
If Daniel asks about the property, tell him the truth.
I no longer own it.
Daniel froze.
His heart began pounding.
He read the sentence again.
I no longer own it.
Impossible.
The lake house was Claire’s inheritance.
He had personally reviewed the deed.
Or at least he thought he had.
He pulled out his phone.
“Get me Thomas Avery.”
Thomas Avery was Daniel’s personal attorney.
The call connected after three rings.
“Daniel?”
“Where are the Mercer property documents?”
A pause.
“Which ones?”
“Claire’s lake house.”
Another pause.
Daniel could hear papers moving.
“Why?”
“Just answer me.”
“Daniel, we discussed this.”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
Daniel’s throat tightened.
“What did we discuss?”
“The transfer.”
“What transfer?”
Thomas went silent.
Then he said carefully, “Daniel, I assumed Claire had already told you.”
Daniel stood perfectly still.
“Told me what?”
“The property was transferred last month.”
Daniel’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“To whom?”
“That’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t involved in the final transfer.”
“You prepared the trust documents.”
“Yes.”
“But she didn’t sign them.”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel’s breathing became heavier.
“Thomas.”
“Yes?”
“Find out.”
“Daniel—”
“Find out right now.”
He ended the call.
For the first time in nineteen years, Daniel felt something he wasn’t accustomed to feeling.
Uncertainty.
He walked back downstairs.
Elena was standing near the kitchen.
“Where is Claire?”
“I told you.”
“Then tell me again.”
“She left.”
“Where?”
Elena shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
“Then who does know?”
Elena looked at him.
“Maybe the person you’ve been trying not to understand.”
Daniel stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
Elena put down the dish she was holding.
“Mrs. Mercer knew you would eventually come looking for her.”
“Of course I would.”
“She knew you wouldn’t come because you missed her.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“She thought you’d come because you needed something.”
He stepped closer.
“What exactly does she think I need?”
Elena didn’t answer.
Instead, she walked toward the garage.
Daniel followed.
“Where are you going?”
“To finish what she asked me to do.”
She opened the garage door.
Claire’s old sedan was gone.
Daniel looked at the empty space.
“When did she leave?”
“Six days ago.”
“Where did she go?”
Elena looked back at him.
“She didn’t tell me.”
Then she climbed into her own car.
Before closing the door, she said one final thing.
“She did leave something for you.”
Daniel’s eyes sharpened.
“What?”
“A key.”
“To what?”
Elena reached into her purse and held it out.
It was old.
Brass.
With a small wooden tag attached.
Written on the tag were four words:
Lake House. Basement.
