Chapter 11 - THE HUSBAND IN THE ELEVATOR
Claire nearly collapsed.
Only Daniel knew.
Emma.
Claire.
Daniel.
No one else had ever heard the ridiculous fox name until Claire spoke it at the Kansas City airport.
Unless Pike had been listening.
Or Ramirez.
Or someone had monitored the room.
Margaret picked up the figurine.
“It’s warm.”
“What?”
“The ceramic.”
Claire touched it.
Margaret was right.
Someone had placed it there recently.
A door closed in the hallway.
Claire ran.
At the far end, an elevator was closing.
For one second she saw a man inside.
Dark hair.
Beard.
Thin face.
Claire screamed.
“DANIEL!”
The man’s head snapped up.
The doors closed.
Claire sprinted.
She hit the elevator button.
Nothing.
Margaret reached the stairwell.
“Basement garage.”
They ran.
Three floors.
Claire nearly fell.
They burst into the garage.
A black sedan tore toward the exit.
Claire saw the passenger window.
Daniel.
She knew him.
Different hair.
Bruised face.
But Daniel.
He slammed his palm against the glass.
His mouth formed one word.
RUN.
The sedan disappeared.
Claire stood in the garage shaking.
Margaret grabbed her.
“You saw him?”
“Yes.”
“Are you certain?”
Claire shoved her away.
“I know my husband!”
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
Silence.
Then breathing.
“Daniel?”
A man spoke.
“Claire.”
Her knees buckled.
Daniel.
Alive.
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You let me bury you.”
“I know.”
“I had your baby alone.”
“I know.”
“Emma cried for you every night!”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know!”
Daniel fell silent.
Claire was crying now.
“You don’t get to come back as a voice on a phone.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“Where are you?”
“They found the safe house.”
Claire froze.
“What?”
“Hale knows Kansas City.”
Claire looked at Margaret.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Emma and Oliver are there.”
“Call Alan. Now.”
The line died.
Claire called.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Margaret was already dialing.
Nothing.
Claire felt terror rise.
They ran to the car.
Then Emma called.
Claire answered instantly.
“Emma!”
Her daughter whispered.
“Mom, don’t talk loud.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Oliver?”
“He’s with me.”
“Where’s Alan?”
Emma breathed carefully.
“Mom, someone came to the house.”
Claire gripped the phone.
“Who?”
“A woman.”
“What woman?”
“She says she’s Grandma.”
Claire stopped.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
Eleanor Hayes.
The woman Claire had not spoken to in twelve years.
May you like
Emma whispered:
“She says Oliver belongs to her.”
