Chapter 2 - THE FLASH DRIVE
The emergency room smelled like antiseptic and cold coffee.
My leg was fractured in two places.
The doctor said I was lucky.
I didn't feel lucky.
I felt furious.
For months, I had questioned whether I was imagining things.
The locked doors.
The missing documents.
The strange charges on my bank account.
The way Andrew always knew who I had called.
Now I knew.
None of it had been in my head.
Someone had planned this.
While nurses prepared my cast, a detective named Rachel Collins entered the room.
She sat beside my bed.
“Your father told us about the missing-person report.”
I nodded.
“Did you know your husband had been restricting your movements?”
“I suspected.”
“And your mother-in-law?”
“She controlled the house.”
Detective Collins opened a notebook.
“We found several things.”
My heart tightened.
“Like what?”
“Your driver's license.”
I stared.
“Where?”
“In Margaret's bedroom.”
My stomach turned.
“My passport was there too.”
I closed my eyes.
“And my financial records.”
“What?”
“Bank statements. Credit cards. Tax documents.”
She paused.
“All organized in a file.”
I looked at her.
“Did you find the file?”
“Yes.”
“What's in it?”
“That's why I'm here.”
She placed photographs on the table.
The first showed my signature.
The second showed a loan agreement.
The third showed a life-insurance policy.
I stared at the beneficiary.
Margaret.
I felt sick.
“I never signed this.”
Detective Collins nodded.
“We know.”
“How?”
“Because the signature was digitally reproduced.”
I looked toward my father.
He was standing near the window.
My voice shook.
“They were stealing from me.”
“More than that.”
She placed another photograph in front of me.
It showed a spreadsheet.
Names.
Dates.
Dollar amounts.
My name was near the bottom.
“What is this?”
“We don't know yet.”
Then I remembered the flash drive.
“I found something.”
Detective Collins looked up.
“Where?”
“In the house.”
I pulled it from my robe.
Her expression changed immediately.
She didn't plug it into the hospital computer.
Instead, she sealed it in an evidence bag.
“Good.”
“What's on it?”
“We'll find out.”
Three hours later, she returned.
Her face was different.
“Diana, this drive contains video files.”
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
My blood ran cold.
“How many?”
“Thirty-eight.”
My father stepped forward.
“What kind of videos?”
Detective Collins hesitated.
“Some were recorded inside the house.”
I felt violated all over again.
“Hidden cameras?”
“Yes.”
My father swore under his breath.
Then Detective Collins said:
“But that's not the worst part.”
“What is?”
“There are videos from before you moved into that house.”
I stared.
“Before?”
“Yes.”
She showed me one frame.
A young woman was sitting at the same kitchen table.
Different hair.
Different clothes.
Same terrified expression.
I didn't know her.
But I recognized the scar on the kitchen cabinet.
The one Margaret had told me was from an old renovation.
Detective Collins zoomed in.
“This woman lived here seven years ago.”
“Who is she?”
The detective looked at me.
“Her name was Claire.”
“What happened to her?”
“She disappeared.”
Silence filled the room.
My father whispered:
“Diana, don't get involved.”
I looked at him.
“I'm already involved.”
Detective Collins nodded.
Then she showed me the final video.
Claire was crying.
May you like
And behind her stood Margaret.
Holding the same wooden rolling pin.
