Chapter 5 - The Blue Sedan Ruiz told me not to contact Marcus Hale.
So I called him.
He answered immediately.
“Daniel. I heard there was trouble at your house.”
“Claire is dead.”
Silence.
Not shock.
Not disbelief.
Silence.
“Who told you that?”
“Your name is on the death certificate.”
He exhaled.
“Come to my clinic tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because there are things you deserve to know.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“Because if I tell you over the phone, we'll both be dead before sunrise.”
The line went dead.
Ruiz looked furious.
“You really don't know how to follow instructions.”
“I know.”
On the drive home, Noah noticed the blue sedan.
“Same cracked headlight.”
Ruiz's unmarked SUV changed lanes.
The sedan followed.
Then it accelerated.
“Down!” Ruiz shouted.
The impact came seconds later.
Metal screamed.
Noah ducked.
I threw an arm across him.
Ruiz fought for control, then swung the SUV across two lanes.
The blue sedan escaped through a gas station lot.
We found it twenty minutes later behind an abandoned pharmacy.
Stolen plates.
Wiped interior.
No fingerprints.
But there was one thing in the cup holder.
A hospital visitor badge.
MARCUS HALE MEDICAL CENTER.
Ruiz stared at it.
“Too obvious.”
“Maybe it's a warning.”
“Or bait.”
At home, Noah couldn't sleep.
He sat at the kitchen table turning Claire's compass necklace over in his hands.
I noticed a thin seam along the back.
I pried it open.
A microSD card fell into my palm.
The recorder hadn't been empty.
Claire had simply moved the evidence.
We inserted the card.
One audio file.
June 14.
9:47 p.m.
Claire's voice filled the kitchen.
“Vanessa, get away from me.”
Then Vanessa's voice.
“Give me the drive, Claire.”
A third voice entered.
Marcus Hale.
“Lock the door.”
May you like
Noah looked at me.
And suddenly, thirteen months of unanswered questions became eleven minutes of recorded terror.
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