I read Daniel’s handwriting again.
Rachel can never know about her.
The words blurred.
Marcus pulled out a chair, but I couldn’t sit.
“Did you know her?” he asked.
“No.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Mrs. Carter’s hand was on my husband’s arm.
He was smiling at her in a way I hadn’t seen him smile in months.
A terrible thought pushed its way into my head.
Had I spent Daniel’s final weeks believing I knew everything about his life when I didn’t?
My phone rang before I could ask Marcus anything else.
An unknown number.
I nearly ignored it.
Then Marcus glanced at the screen and said, “Answer it. Put it on speaker.”
“Hello?”
“Rachel,” a woman said. “You found the photograph.”
Mrs. Carter.
My grip tightened around the phone.
“You got me fired.”
“I did.”
“You accused me of stealing a ring you never lost.”
“Yes.”
Marcus leaned closer.
The recording light on his phone was already on.
“Why?” I demanded.
Mrs. Carter exhaled.
“Because you wouldn’t have spoken to me otherwise.”
“You could have knocked on my door.”
“I tried.”
I went still.
“Three months ago. And again last month. You didn’t answer.”
“I never heard anyone knock.”
“Someone did.”
Before I could ask who, a man’s voice spoke faintly behind her.
Mrs. Carter went quiet.
When she spoke again, her voice had changed.
“Go to the hospital. Ask for the billing office. Daniel’s account number is written behind the photograph.”
The call ended.
I turned the photograph over.
Beneath Daniel’s handwriting, in much smaller letters, was a string of numbers.
Marcus looked at me. “I can go with you.”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to go home, lock the door, and pretend I had never seen any of it.
Instead, I thought of my daughters.
If someone had come looking for me twice, I needed to know why.
“First, we show your manager the footage,” I said.
Marcus hesitated.
“What?”
“I already told him I found something. He’s calling corporate security. But Mrs. Carter’s husband is still in the hotel.”
“Good. He can see what she did.”
“That’s the thing,” Marcus said. “He checked out this morning. Alone. She’s still here.”
I remembered the man’s voice behind her on the phone.
“Where is she?”
Marcus pulled up the guest list.
His expression tightened.
“Room 814. She booked it under another name.”
My phone buzzed.
A text from the same unknown number.
Please don’t tell my husband I called you.
Then another.
He knows where your daughters go to daycare.
Marcus saw my face and read the messages over my shoulder.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, “We’re calling the police.”
“Show them the footage. I’m calling the daycare.”
My fingers shook so badly I dialed the wrong number once.
When the director answered, I asked her to keep my daughters inside and release them only to me. She promised she would.
I was pulling on my coat when the security office door opened.
My manager stood there with a tall man in a dark suit.
I recognized him immediately.
Mrs. Carter’s husband.
He looked from me to the photograph in my hand.
For the first time since he had arrived at the hotel, his polished expression slipped.
“Rachel,” he said softly. “I was hoping she hadn’t shown you that.”
Marcus stepped between us.
The man raised both hands.
“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”
“Then stay where you are,” Marcus said.
Mr. Carter’s eyes remained on me.
“My wife has been trying to tell you something. But she doesn’t understand what happens if you start asking questions about Daniel’s hospital account.”
My heart pounded.
“What happens?”
He glanced at the photograph again.
Then he said the last thing I expected.
“You find out why your husband was afraid of her.”…………….
One Comment on “PART 3: THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH”