Chapter 2 - The Notebook)
The police arrived before the wedding guests had finished leaving.
The ceremony never resumed.
Grace remained in the bridal suite while Peter sat beside her, still clutching the notebook.
Her veil had been removed.
The flowers were gone.
The expensive wedding dress that had seemed magical an hour earlier now felt like a costume from someone else's life.
Detective Laura Bennett sat across from them.
She was in her early forties, calm and observant, with the careful manner of someone who had learned never to react too quickly.
"Peter," she said gently, "I need you to tell me exactly where you found these."
Peter looked at his mother before answering.
Grace squeezed his hand.
"It's okay."
Peter took a breath.
"Richard has an office at our house. Mom told me not to go in there because he works with important financial stuff."
Grace shut her eyes.
She remembered saying those exact words.
Richard had been a private investment consultant.
At least that was what he had claimed.
"He usually locks it," Peter continued. "Yesterday the door wasn't closed all the way."
"Why did you go inside?"
Peter looked down.
"Because I was looking for my dad's watch."
Grace's eyes opened.
"My dad gave me a watch before he died," Peter explained. "Richard took it away last week because I dropped it. He said he'd get it fixed."
Grace remembered that argument.
Peter had cried for nearly an hour.
The watch had belonged to Grace's first husband, Daniel Parker.
Daniel had died in a highway collision four years earlier.
Peter had been six.
Grace had spent two years barely functioning.
Then she had met Richard.
Kind.
Patient.
Successful.
He had never pushed her.
At least, that was how she had remembered it until today.
Peter continued.
"I thought the watch might be in his desk."
He paused.
"There was a drawer behind another drawer."
Detective Bennett leaned forward.
"A concealed compartment?"
Peter nodded.
"It opened when I pulled too hard."
Inside had been documents.
Six driver's licenses.
Three passports.
Marriage certificates containing different names.
Photos of women.
Financial records.
Insurance documents.
And the notebook.
"I started looking because one of the pictures looked like Richard."
Grace stared at the stack of documents.
"Why didn't you tell me immediately?"
Peter's lower lip trembled.
"I tried."
Grace's heart sank.
"When?"
"Last night."
She remembered.
Peter had knocked on her bedroom door while the rehearsal dinner was happening downstairs.
Richard had intercepted him.
Peter had said he needed to talk to her.
Richard had laughed and said Peter was nervous about the wedding.
Then he had taken Peter downstairs for cake.
Grace had never asked again.
Peter whispered, "Richard told me if I ruined your wedding because I was jealous, you'd never forgive me."
Grace covered her mouth.
Bennett's expression hardened slightly.
"What happened after that?"
"I put everything in my backpack."
"Did Richard see you?"
"I don't know."
Peter hesitated.
"Later he came into my room."
Grace went rigid.
"What?"
"He stood by my bed."
"While you were sleeping?"
"I pretended I was."
Peter's voice became quieter.
"He asked if I had gone into his office."
Grace could feel anger rising beneath the shock.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing. I kept pretending."
Peter looked at her.
"He stood there for a really long time."
Grace reached for him.
Peter climbed into her arms, and for a moment he was no longer the brave boy who had stopped a wedding.
He was ten.
Just ten.
Detective Bennett waited.
When Peter had settled again, she examined the notebook.
"Mrs. Parker..."
"Grace."
"Grace. Do you recognize any of these names?"
Grace leaned forward.
There were nineteen names written across several pages.
Most meant nothing.
But one made her stomach turn.
Marianne Cole.
"I know this one."
Bennett looked up.
"Who?"
"Richard told me Marianne was his sister."
Peter stared at her.
Grace continued.
"He said she died from cancer years ago."
Bennett flipped through the documents.
Then she found a marriage certificate.
The groom's name was Nathaniel Cross.
The bride was Marianne Cole.
The photograph attached to another document showed Nathaniel Cross.
Richard.
Different haircut.
Thin mustache.
Same eyes.
Grace whispered, "She wasn't his sister."
"No."
Bennett studied the dates.
"She was his wife."
Grace pressed a hand against her chest.
The wedding hall door opened.
An officer entered quickly.
"Detective?"
Bennett stood.
"What?"
"We checked the Coleman residence."
Grace's breath stopped.
"And?"
"He's gone."
"Car?"
"Gone too."
Bennett nodded.
"Alert highway patrol."
The officer did not leave.
"There is something else."
He looked at Grace.
"We searched the office."
Grace waited.
"The room has been cleared."
Peter frowned.
"No. There were boxes. Lots of them."
The officer shook his head.
"Not anymore."
Bennett's eyes narrowed.
"How quickly could he have done it?"
"He couldn't have."
"What do you mean?"
The officer placed a plastic evidence bag on the table.
Inside was a small electronic device.
"We found this wired into the office."
Bennett examined it.
"A camera?"
"Remote motion camera."
Grace looked confused.
The officer continued.
"Someone received an alert the moment Peter entered that office yesterday."
Peter stopped breathing.
Grace pulled him closer.
Richard had known.
He had known Peter had discovered everything.
And he had still walked Grace toward the altar.
Bennett looked at the notebook again.
"Grace, we need to understand why tomorrow's date matters."
Grace stared at her own name.
Then she remembered something.
"The honeymoon."
"What about it?"
"We were leaving tomorrow morning."
"For where?"
Grace's mouth went dry.
"A private cabin."
"Where?"
"Richard arranged everything. Somewhere in northern Wisconsin."
Bennett looked toward the officer.
"Find that cabin."
The officer nodded and left.
Grace looked at Peter.
For the first time, another memory pushed through her panic.
Richard insisting they travel alone.
Richard arranging a new life insurance policy.
Richard saying it was responsible financial planning now that they were becoming a family.
Grace whispered, "I signed an insurance policy three weeks ago."
Bennett's face changed.
"How much?"
"Five million dollars."
Peter went pale.
Grace looked back at the notebook.
POLICY ACTIVE AFTER MARRIAGE.
Tomorrow.
The honeymoon.
A remote cabin.
Suddenly Richard's plan no longer looked mysterious.
It looked terrifyingly simple.
But then Detective Bennett turned another page.
On the reverse side, faintly visible beneath a list of names, someone had written an address.
Grace recognized it.
Her parents' old house.
A property that had been empty for twelve years.
Beside it were two initials.
DP.
Grace stopped breathing.
May you like
Daniel Parker.
Her dead husband's initials.
