Chapter 3 - The Call That Had No Number
Mara did not turn around immediately. The emergency phone felt heavy in her palm, and Naomi's breathing remained faintly audible through the receiver.
"The hospital," Mara said.
Cole stepped onto the porch. "At midnight?"
"I felt dizzy."
"Give me the phone."
Mara ended the call before he reached her and held it out. Cole took the device, checked the screen, and frowned.
The call history was blank.
Naomi had used a masked relay.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"It was in the kitchen drawer."
Cole looked through the glass door toward the kitchen. "There is no phone in the kitchen drawer."
"Then maybe it was in the utility room. I don't remember."
He turned the device over in his hand. For several seconds, only the rain spoke.
Then he smiled.
"You should have woken me."
He put an arm around her shoulders and guided her inside. His touch was gentle, but his fingers pressed too firmly against the back of her neck.
That night, Cole slept with one hand resting on her wrist.
At dawn, Mara woke before him. She lay still, listening to his breathing, and counted the seconds until his hand loosened. When she finally slipped free, she went to the bathroom and locked the door.
Under the sink, taped behind the drainpipe, was the small brass key her mother had worn around her neck. Mara had kept it without knowing what it opened.
Now she wondered whether Cole knew about it.
She placed the key inside the hem of her maternity coat.
At breakfast, Cole announced that he would drive her into town.
"I need groceries," Mara said.
"Then we will get groceries."
"You said you had work."
"It can wait."
The pharmacy on King Street sat between a bakery and a pawn shop. At ten fifty-seven, Cole parked directly across from the entrance.
"I will come in," he said.
Mara looked at the dashboard clock. "I also need prenatal vitamins. You hate waiting in that line."
"Today I am patient."
Inside, the pharmacy was crowded. Mara selected peppermint tea and vitamins while Cole stayed close enough to touch her shoulder. Near the back wall stood an old public telephone that had not worked in years.
She paid in cash.
As the cashier handed over the receipt, a child knocked over a display of cough medicine. Boxes scattered across the floor. Cole glanced toward the noise.
Mara folded the receipt twice and slipped it beneath the telephone ledge.
When she straightened, a man in a green work jacket was standing beside her.
"You dropped this," he said, handing her a coin.
His eyes did not meet hers.
"Your mother used the key at Union Station," he murmured. "Locker 317."
Then he walked away.
Cole appeared a second later.
"Who was that?"
"I don't know."
"What did he give you?"
Mara showed him the coin.
Cole took it, examined both sides, and tossed it into a trash can.
On the drive home, he asked no more questions.
That frightened her more than anger would have.
At three in the afternoon, he left for what he called a client meeting. Mara watched his car disappear down the road, waited ten minutes, and went to the garage.
The old sedan she had owned before meeting Cole sat beneath a canvas cover. He had disconnected the battery months ago, saying the car was unsafe. Mara reconnected it with trembling hands and prayed.
The engine started.
Union Station was forty minutes away. She had less than two hours before Cole usually returned.
Locker 317 stood at the end of a forgotten corridor near the bus platforms. The brass key turned smoothly.
Inside was a gray metal box, a cassette recorder, and an envelope bearing Mara's name.
She opened the envelope first.
My dearest Mara,
If you are reading this, then I failed to keep Meridian away from you.
Trust Naomi Vale, but trust no badge simply because it shines. The records are divided. One ledger shows the money. The other shows the names. Never keep them together.
Mara unfolded the next page.
A photograph slipped to the floor.
It showed her mother standing beside Naomi and the current deputy director of the task force, Adrian Kessler.
On Kessler's hand was the same black ring Cole wore.
May you like
Behind Mara, the corridor door clicked shut.
A man's voice said, "You were always going to open that locker."
