Chapter 9 — The Second Car
Chapter 9 — The Second Car
Laura's body went limp.
“Laura!”
I dropped beside her.
Ethan was already calling emergency services.
“She has a pulse,” he said. “She's breathing.”
I pressed my hand against the wound.
Blood soaked through my fingers.
“Stay with me,” I whispered.
Laura's eyes opened for one brief second.
She looked at me.
Then at Ethan.
Then toward the warehouse entrance.
“Second…”
Her voice was barely audible.
“Second car…”
“What second car?”
She tried to speak again.
“The car…”
Then she passed out.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Ethan looked at me.
“We need to go.”
I didn't move.
“Who shot her?”
“I don't know.”
“You were standing behind me.”
“Yes.”
“You saw who fired.”
“No.”
His answer came too quickly.
I stared at him.
He noticed.
“What?”
“You didn't even think about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You immediately said you didn't know.”
“Because I don't.”
I stepped away.
For the first time, I was afraid of him.
Not because I believed Laura.
Because I no longer knew which version of Ethan was real.
The ambulance arrived.
Police followed.
The investigators we had hired began explaining what happened.
A detective named Mason pulled me aside.
“You said there were three people inside.”
“Yes.”
“You, your fiancé, and the woman.”
“Yes.”
“Where is the fourth?”
I looked at him.
“There was no fourth person.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Then explain the second set of footprints.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
He pointed toward the warehouse entrance.
Wet footprints.
Four sets.
One belonged to me.
One belonged to Ethan.
One belonged to Laura.
The fourth led from the entrance directly toward the table where the recorder had been.
Then disappeared.
Mason crouched.
“Whoever fired the gun was standing here.”
I stared at the footprints.
“Can you identify them?”
“Not yet.”
“Was the shooter inside when the lights went out?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
He pointed to the security system.
“The warehouse has an old backup camera.”
My heart jumped.
“CCTV?”
“Partially operational.”
“Can we see it?”
“Not until we recover the footage.”
I looked at Ethan.
He was standing across the room.
Watching us.
His face was unreadable.
Mason noticed.
“You know him?”
“My fiancé.”
“Does he have a reason to be involved?”
“No.”
The answer came automatically.
Then I corrected myself.
“I don't know.”
Ethan heard me.
His expression broke.
“Natalie.”
I turned away.
Laura survived surgery.
The doctor said the bullet had passed through her shoulder.
She would live.
But she couldn't speak for several hours.
I sat in the hospital corridor with Ethan across from me.
Neither of us said anything.
Finally he spoke.
“You really think I had something to do with your father's death?”
“I don't know.”
“You believe Laura.”
“I believe she was terrified.”
“She was confused.”
“She said your father's name.”
“My father wasn't there.”
“You don't know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
“Because my father was in New York that night.”
I stared at him.
“Can you prove it?”
“Yes.”
“Then prove it.”
He pulled out his phone.
A photograph.
His father at a business dinner.
Timestamped.
10:41 PM.
I looked at it.
“That's not enough.”
“I know.”
He swiped.
Another photograph.
10:53 PM.
His father entering a hotel.
Then another.
11:08 PM.
Leaving.
I stared at the images.
“If your father was in New York…”
“He couldn't have ordered the hit from the warehouse.”
“Someone could have acted for him.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at him.
“That's the problem.”
He lowered his phone.
“Natalie, I loved your father.”
I said nothing.
“I never met him properly.”
“But you knew about him.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“My father talked about him.”
“What did he say?”
“That Daniel Carter was dangerous.”
“Why?”
“Because he wouldn't stop investigating.”
“Investigating what?”
“My father's company.”
I felt a chill.
“So your father had a motive.”
“Yes.”
“Then why marry me?”
He looked directly at me.
“Because I fell in love with you.”
I wanted to believe him.
That was the worst part.
I wanted to.
But nineteen years of lies had taught me one thing.
Wanting something to be true didn't make it true.
At three in the morning, Detective Mason returned.
“We found the footage.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“Security office.”
“Show me.”
He shook his head.
“There's something you need to know first.”
“What?”
“The footage doesn't show anyone entering the warehouse.”
“Then how did the fourth person get inside?”
“That is the problem.”
He handed me a still image.
A black vehicle.
Parked behind the warehouse.
I recognized it immediately.
The black SUV.
The same vehicle from the night my father died.
My heart stopped.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because that vehicle was destroyed.”
Mason looked at me.
“Was it?”
“Yes.”
“According to whom?”
“My mother.”
He stared at me.
“Your mother was wrong.”
The footage showed the SUV arriving at 11:38 PM.
The driver's door opened.
A person stepped out.
Face hidden.
Black coat.
Gloves.
The person entered through a side door.
Twenty minutes later, the lights went out.
The gunshot followed.
Then the person emerged.
But this time, the camera caught their face.
I leaned closer.
My heart stopped.
I knew her.
I knew that face.
I had known it my entire life.
My mother.
Mason watched me carefully.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“That's your mother?”
“Yes.”
He paused the footage.
“She entered the warehouse before you.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“What?”
“She was already there.”
Mason frowned.
“Explain.”
“She wasn't at home when I arrived.”
“Then where was she?”
I looked at Ethan.
“With Richard.”
Mason's expression hardened.
“That's a problem.”
“What?”
“Because Richard entered the warehouse too.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where is he now?”
“We don't know.”
“Then find him.”
“We're trying.”
I turned toward the footage again.
My mother entered.
Richard entered ten minutes later.
Then someone else.
A third person.
The footage showed them meeting.
I zoomed in.
The third person removed their hood.
My heart stopped.
It wasn't Laura.
It wasn't Thomas.
It wasn't Richard.
It wasn't my mother.
It was Chloe.
I stepped backward.
“No.”
Mason looked at me.
“You recognize her?”
I couldn't speak.
Ethan whispered:
“Chloe?”
I nodded.
The footage continued.
Chloe handed my mother something.
A small envelope.
My mother opened it.
Then looked at Richard.
Richard shook his head.
Chloe began crying.
My mother grabbed her arm.
Then the footage cut.
I stared at the screen.
“What did she give them?”
Mason shook his head.
“We don't know.”
I walked out.
I called Chloe.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then her phone turned off.
My stomach tightened.
“She knew.”
Ethan followed me.
“What?”
“She knew about the warehouse.”
“And she didn't tell us.”
“She knew Mom was there.”
“Maybe she was forced.”
“Maybe.”
I stopped.
“Or maybe she was part of it.”
Ethan didn't answer.
We found Chloe's apartment empty.
The door was unlocked.
Her bag was gone.
Her clothes were still there.
Her passport was on the bed.
Her phone was missing.
The only thing left was a note.
On the kitchen counter.
My name.
Natalie.
I opened it.
I didn't betray you.
I was trying to save you.
Don't trust Mom.
Don't trust Richard.
Don't trust Thomas.
And whatever happens—
don't believe the first thing you see.
At the bottom was one final sentence.
Dad didn't die on the road.
I stared at it.
Ethan looked over my shoulder.
“What does that mean?”
I whispered:
“The accident was staged.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Not just the accident.”
I remembered the photograph.
My father standing beside the road.
Alive.
Bruised.
Then I remembered Laura's words.
Second car.
I turned toward the bedroom.
“Chloe saw something.”
“What?”
“She was driving the second car.”
“She told us that.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“She told us she was driving the second car.”
I grabbed the photograph from the cemetery.
“Look.”
Ethan studied it.
“What am I looking for?”
“The position of Dad's car.”
He frowned.
Then understood.
“The crash happened here.”
“Yes.”
“And Chloe's car was behind them.”
“Yes.”
“But the photograph was taken from another angle.”
I nodded.
“From a third car.”
Silence.
“There were three cars.”
I felt a chill.
“Dad's car.”
“Your mother's.”
“Chloe's.”
“And the third?”
We looked at each other.
“The black SUV.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“The black SUV was the fourth.”
Ethan stared at me.
“Then what was the second car?”
I pointed to the photograph.
The white sedan.
“My mother wasn't driving it.”
“What?”
I enlarged the image.
The driver was barely visible.
But the silhouette was wrong.
My mother was tall.
The person behind the wheel wasn't.
It was smaller.
Younger.
I stared.
Then I understood.
“Chloe wasn't driving the second car.”
Ethan's face changed.
“Then who was?”
I whispered:
“My mother's car was being driven by someone else.”
We returned to the cemetery.
Bennett arrived with the recovered documents.
I showed him the photograph.
“Who is driving?”
He studied it.
“I can't tell.”
“Look at the height.”
He leaned closer.
“That's a woman.”
“I know.”
“Could be Margaret.”
“No.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because Mom was photographed leaving the house at 10:32.”
Bennett looked at me.
“And?”
“She couldn't have been here at 10:41.”
“Unless someone else drove.”
I nodded.
“Exactly.”
He examined the documents.
“There is another problem.”
“What?”
“The accident report says your father's car was struck from the rear.”
I looked at him.
“So?”
“The damage doesn't match.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was hit from the side.”
My heart pounded.
“Then why did they say rear impact?”
“To make it look like he lost control.”
I closed my eyes.
Everything had been staged.
Not just the crash.
The entire scene.
The police report.
The photographs.
The timeline.
Even my father's death certificate.
Someone had rewritten reality.
That afternoon, Laura finally woke.
I entered her hospital room alone.
Her eyes opened.
She looked at me.
“Did you find it?”
“Find what?”
“The second car.”
I sat beside her.
“Yes.”
Her face tightened.
“Then you know.”
“Who was driving?”
She looked toward the door.
“Lock it.”
I did.
She whispered:
“Your mother.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You don't.”
“What do you mean?”
“Margaret wasn't driving.”
My heart stopped.
“Then who?”
Laura's eyes filled with tears.
“Someone she trusted.”
“Who?”
She grabbed my hand.
“I tried to stop them.”
“Who?”
“Chloe.”
I froze.
“My sister?”
“She was there.”
“She drove the second car.”
Laura nodded.
“But she wasn't alone.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Who was with her?”
Laura looked at me.
“The person sitting beside her.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“Your father.”
I stared at her.
“That can't be.”
“He survived the crash.”
My entire body went cold.
“What?”
“Your father wasn't in the car when it crashed.”
I couldn't speak.
“He was moved.”
“Where?”
Laura's eyes filled with tears.
“I don't know.”
“You saw him.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After the crash.”
“Where?”
“In the second car.”
I stood.
“Chloe had Dad in her car?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she was trying to save him.”
I felt dizzy.
“Then why did she tell me she left?”
“Because she was protecting him.”
“Where did she take him?”
Laura closed her eyes.
“To the old clinic.”
“What clinic?”
“St. Mary's.”
“That place was abandoned.”
“Not then.”
I grabbed my phone.
“Was Dad alive?”
Laura nodded.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Long enough to talk.”
“What did he say?”
She opened her eyes.
“He asked about you.”
My tears came.
“What else?”
“He gave Chloe something.”
“What?”
“A key.”
“What key?”
Laura looked toward the window.
“The key to the second trust.”
My heart stopped.
“There were three trusts.”
“Yes.”
“Where is the second one?”
Laura whispered:
“Not in a bank.”
“Then where?”
“In your father's clinic.”
I stared at her.
“St. Mary's.”
She nodded.
“And Natalie…”
“Yes?”
“Your father didn't die that night.”
My blood froze.
“What?”
Laura's voice trembled.
“He disappeared.”
I couldn't breathe.
“He lived for another six months.”
Silence.
“Then what happened?”
Laura looked at me.
“He was killed later.”
My knees weakened.
“By whom?”
She closed her eyes.
“I don't know.”
I stepped closer.
“But you saw him.”
“Yes.”
“Six months later?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
She swallowed.
“In Chicago.”
My heart stopped.
“Where in Chicago?”
She looked at me.
“Your engagement party.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He was there.”
I shook my head.
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
Laura whispered:
“You've been looking for a dead man.”
I stared at her.
“And he was standing in the same room as you.”
My blood turned cold.
“Who?”
She squeezed my hand.
“The man who gave you the engagement ring.”
I stopped breathing.
Ethan.
Laura looked toward the door.
May you like
Then whispered:
“Your father knew him.”
