Chapter 9 - The Woman in the White Coat
Claire did not intend to obey the message.
Detective Ortiz insisted that the demand was designed to isolate her and obtain the trust documents. The originals remained secured at the bank and could not be accessed until the following morning.
The photograph of Marisol provided several clues. A reflection in the clock face showed a narrow window. The wall behind her contained a faded green stripe. A distant sound in the audio file resembled a train horn.
Investigators compared the details with properties linked to Mercer and Northbridge.
They found an abandoned day-care center near a freight line.
Ortiz organized a discreet operation, but before officers could move, Claire received another message.
NO POLICE.
The sender included a photograph of Detective Ortiz standing inside the station.
Someone was watching them in real time.
Ortiz turned off the room’s security camera and removed the battery from her phone.
“We have an internal leak,” she said. “We change the plan now.”
Only four people were told the new location. Ortiz, Claire, Ethan, and a federal investigator named Samuel Ross, who had been quietly reviewing the financial evidence.
A decoy vehicle left the station carrying a box that appeared to contain the trust documents.
Meanwhile, Ortiz and Ross approached the abandoned day-care center from the rear.
Claire and Ethan waited in an unmarked car two blocks away.
They hated waiting, but Ortiz refused to place them in danger.
Seven minutes passed.
Then ten.
At twelve minutes, Claire saw smoke rising above the rooftops.
She opened the car door.
Ethan caught her arm.
“Ortiz said to stay here.”
“Marisol is inside.”
“Running into a police operation won’t help her.”
A burst of radio traffic came through the receiver Ortiz had left with them.
“Building clear. No victim located.”
The front room of the day-care center contained the chair and clock from the photograph. A heater had produced the smoke. The image of Marisol had been taken somewhere else and displayed on a screen behind the clock.
The entire location was another distraction.
But investigators found one useful object.
A white coat hung from a hook beside the door.
Inside the pocket was Evelyn’s gold ring.
The same ring police had already collected from Larkspur Lane.
The original remained sealed in evidence.
This one was a duplicate.
Someone wanted Claire to connect the white-coated woman to Evelyn.
They were constructing a story for her just as they had constructed stories for the family court.
When Ortiz returned to the car, she looked furious.
“The leak knew the first plan but not the second,” she said.
“Who was excluded?” Claire asked.
“Nearly everyone.”
“Then the leak is one of the four people who knew.”
Ortiz looked at Ethan.
Ethan looked at Ross.
Ross calmly removed his identification badge and placed it on the dashboard.
“You should verify this,” he said.
Ortiz did.
The badge number belonged to a federal investigator named Samuel Ross.
But the photograph in the federal database showed a different man.
The man sitting beside them opened his door.
Ethan grabbed for him, but the impostor shoved the door outward and ran between two buildings.
Ortiz pursued him while calling for assistance.
He disappeared through a crowded transit station.
The investigation team had never contacted a real federal agent.
The impostor had entered the police station with professional credentials, reviewed confidential evidence, and learned each planned move.
On the seat where he had been sitting was a folded note.
Ortiz opened it.
THANK YOU FOR CONFIRMING THE TRUST DOCUMENTS ARE STILL AT THE BANK.
Beneath the message was a second line.
MARISOL IS SAFE FOR NOW.
At that moment, Claire’s phone rang.
The caller identification displayed Marisol’s number.
Claire answered.
“Marisol?”
“Don’t speak,” Marisol whispered. “Just listen.”
Her voice sounded strained but controlled.
“I escaped through a rear door when they moved me. I’m at the old bus depot on Franklin. I have evidence from Kayla’s locker.”
Claire signaled to Ortiz.
Marisol continued.
“Do not bring anyone from the police department except Lena Ortiz.”
“Why?”
“Because the woman in the white coat isn’t Dr. Wynn.”
Claire felt cold.
“Who is she?”
“I found a photograph.”
A sound echoed behind Marisol.
Footsteps.
She began breathing faster.
“Marisol, leave the building.”
“I can’t. She’s here.”
“Who?”
The phone shifted.
A new voice came onto the line. It was calm, feminine, and familiar.
“Hello, Claire.”
Claire gripped the phone.
She had not heard the voice in eight months.
Not since her mother’s final hospital room.
May you like
The woman spoke again.
“You were always supposed to find the blue door.”
