Chapter 2 - THE MESSAGE HIS BEST FRIEND DELETED
Daniel Russo had known me since I was nineteen.
He'd danced with me at my wedding, stood beside Adrian when we exchanged vows, and once driven through a blizzard to bring me medicine when I was sick.
If someone had asked me to name the three people I trusted most, Daniel would have made the list.
Now I was staring at evidence that he had known where I was being held.
And said nothing.
I arrived at Margaret's bookstore just after sunset.
The building stood on a quiet street between a bakery and an old-fashioned pharmacy. Above it was a two-bedroom apartment with creaking floors, yellow curtains, and a view of the lake.
Margaret met me at the back entrance.
She was sixty-three, with silver hair and the kind of eyes that noticed everything.
"Oh, sweetheart."
She saw my walking boot and immediately wrapped her arms around me.
I nearly broke.
Instead, I whispered, "Please don't ask me about Adrian."
She stepped back.
"Then I won't."
That was when I started crying.
Not because she asked the right questions.
Because she didn't ask any.
For the first time in years, nobody expected me to explain, excuse, or defend my husband's decisions.
Margaret helped me upstairs.
After dinner, I called the mysterious number.
A woman answered.
"You made it out."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Dr. Rebecca Shaw."
I stiffened.
"The nurse from the hospital?"
"That was my colleague. I'm an emergency physician who reviewed your records."
"Why are you contacting me?"
"Because the official account of your kidnapping isn't accurate."
I gripped the phone.
"What do you mean?"
"Both rescue teams were initially given their locations. Daniel Russo canceled the response to your location and redirected the second unit."
My stomach turned.
"Why?"
"I don't know yet. But the emergency communications were copied to our security liaison because the hospital was preparing to receive both victims."
I stared at the darkness beyond the window.
"Does Adrian know?"
"Not everything."
"Why didn't you tell him?"
Rebecca hesitated.
"Because someone inside his organization already tried to erase the recordings."
The floor seemed to tilt beneath me.
She continued.
"Claire, your kidnappers weren't interested in ransom."
"What did they want?"
"Something your father left behind."
I stopped breathing.
"My father died sixteen years ago."
"I know."
A long silence followed.
Then Rebecca said, "Did he ever give you a silver locket?"
My hand moved instinctively toward my neck.
The locket was beneath my sweater.
My father had given it to me shortly before he died.
I'd worn it through birthdays, graduations, my wedding, and every terrible day since.
"How do you know about that?"
May you like
Rebecca's voice dropped.
"Because the man who organized your kidnapping has been looking for it for sixteen years."
