“Do you remember your mother?”
“No.”
The answer hurt more than anything else.
Lauren went to the window.
Her reflection looked faint in the dark glass, layered over the frozen landscape.
Behind her, Mr. Harris said, “There may be medical records.”
“Where?”
“If the clinic’s files were transferred rather than destroyed, the state licensing board may know.”
“And the storage unit?”
“We will have it inspected before you go near it.”
“Sierra asked me to go alone.”
“That is exactly why you should not.”
“What if she is trying to help me?”
“Then she will understand caution.”
Lauren thought of the photograph.
Sierra’s bare shoulder. Cole’s hand on her waist.
Perhaps it had not been accidental.
Perhaps Sierra had taken the picture and sent it from Cole’s phone while he was distracted.
Perhaps the necklace had been placed where Lauren would find it.
A trail disguised as betrayal.
But why?
Why risk exposing herself? Why not simply call?
Unless Cole had made direct contact impossible.
Or unless Sierra did not trust Lauren either.
Mr. Harris opened the laptop.
“There is one more thing you need to see.”
On the screen was a scanned bank document.
The account had been opened twelve years earlier at a private institution in Switzerland. The listed beneficiary was Lauren Bennett.
The account holder was Eleanor Bennett.
Lauren leaned closer.
“What is this?”
“We discovered it after activating your clause. Your mother’s dormant financial records were flagged when your trust accounts were separated from Cole’s access.”
“Is there money in it?”
“A small amount. The balance is not important.”
“What is?”
“There was activity.”
Lauren looked at him.
“When?”
“Three deposits were made after your mother’s reported death.”
Her heartbeat quickened.
“The most recent?”
Mr. Harris turned the laptop slightly toward her.
Lauren read the date.
December 23.
Two days ago.
Beneath it was a transfer of one dollar.
“A dollar?”
“A verification transaction,” Mr. Harris said. “Someone was testing whether the account was still active.”
“From where?”
“The sending account is hidden behind multiple institutions. But the transaction included a memo.”
Lauren lowered her eyes to the final line.
Four words appeared in the narrow field.
The storm is closer now.
Her mother’s voice returned with perfect clarity.
Count between the lightning and the thunder, sweetheart. The storm is farther away than it sounds.
Lauren touched the screen.
For twenty years, she had believed Eleanor Bennett had vanished into the sea.
Now someone had used her mother’s account.
Someone knew about the house.
Someone knew the phrase Eleanor had whispered to Lauren as a child.
And whoever it was had sent the message the day before Cole accidentally revealed Sierra.
Behind Lauren, one of the twins began to cry.
She lifted Lily from the crib and held her close, breathing in the warm scent of her hair.
Mr. Harris closed the laptop.
“Lauren,” he said quietly, “there is something I should have asked you before.”
She looked at him.
“When you activated the emergency clause last night, did you contact me because you remembered the number?”
“Yes.”
“You were told years ago that my private line had been disconnected.”
Lauren frowned.
“I must have saved it somewhere.”
“You didn’t. The number you called was created three months ago.”
A chill moved through the room.
“Then how did I have it?”
Mr. Harris reached into the leather folder and removed a copy of Lauren’s phone records.
“The number was entered into your contacts on December twenty-third at 11:41 p.m.”
Six minutes before Cole’s photograph arrived.
Lauren stared at the page.
“Who entered it?”
“That is what we need to determine.”
Her eyes moved to the signal-blocking pouch containing her phone.
Someone had been inside her device.
Someone who wanted her to see Cole’s betrayal.
Someone who wanted her to find Mr. Harris.
Someone who had guided her toward this house before she even knew she was leaving.
Then, from downstairs, the front doorbell rang.
Mr. Harris checked his watch.
“No one should know we are here.”
Maria appeared in the hall, holding the video monitor from the entry camera.
“There’s a woman outside,” she said.
Lauren’s breath caught.
“Is it Sierra?”
Maria shook her head.
“She says her name is Dr. Adrian Mercer.”
The psychiatrist from the white room.
The man connected to the day Lauren could no longer remember.
Lauren looked at Mr. Harris.
“How did he find us?”
The doorbell rang again.
Then the woman outside lifted her face toward the camera and said words none of them expected.
“Tell Lauren her mother sent me.”
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