Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO SAVED MY WIFE
My father's arrival changed everything.
Michael said he had seen Robert at the crash scene.
“He pulled Claire from the car.”
“Why didn't he call an ambulance?”
“He did.”
“Then why did Claire die?”
Michael shook his head.
“She didn't.”
I stared.
“What?”
“She survived.”
My knees nearly gave way.
“If she survived, where is she?”
Michael looked toward the files.
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“Richard told me she was dead.”
I looked at Officer Miller.
“We need the original hospital records.”
She nodded.
We searched the hospital archives.
The records had been altered.
But a nurse had kept handwritten notes.
Three years earlier, a woman matching Claire's description had been admitted under a false name.
The patient had survived the crash.
She had been transferred the same night.
The destination was a private clinic.
The clinic had closed.
But the doctor who worked there was still alive.
We found him.
He remembered Claire.
“She was unconscious.”
“Was she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Who brought her?”
“A man.”
“Robert Carter?”
The doctor hesitated.
“Yes.”
My heart pounded.
“What happened?”
“He told me she was in danger.”
“Why?”
“He said someone was trying to kill her.”
“Did she regain consciousness?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Two days later.”
I couldn't breathe.
“What did she say?”
The doctor looked at me.
“She asked for Daniel.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“Did you contact me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Robert told me your life was in danger.”
I closed my eyes.
My father had kept me away.
But why?
The doctor continued.
“Claire believed Richard had people watching the hospital.”
“Where did she go?”
“She left with Robert.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
Then he remembered something.
“She left a message.”
“What message?”
“For you.”
He gave me a small envelope.
Inside was Claire's handwriting.
Daniel, I am alive. Please don't look for me until it is safe.
I couldn't speak.
Three years.
Three years believing my wife was dead.
Three years raising our daughter alone.
Three years grieving someone who had been alive.
I asked:
“Why didn't she come home?”
The doctor shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Then he gave me one more piece of information.
“Your father returned six months later.”
“For what?”
“To ask about Claire.”
“Was she still alive?”
“Yes.”
I stared.
“Where did she go?”
The doctor lowered his voice.
“She was taken to another facility.”
“Which one?”
He gave me an address.
We went there.
The building was abandoned.
But inside, we found fresh footprints.
Someone had been there recently.
A room contained photographs of Claire.
And Lily.
And me.
Someone had been watching us.
On the wall was a map.
Pins connected our house.
The hospital.
The warehouse.
Richard's office.
And one final location.
A lake house.
My father's old property.
We drove there.
The house was empty.
But the basement door was unlocked.
Inside was a bed.
Medical supplies.
A wheelchair.
And photographs.
Claire.
Alive.
I found one photograph dated six months ago.
Claire was standing beside my father.
She looked older.
But alive.
My hands shook.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
“Daniel.”
I turned.
My father stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Alive.
Older.
His hair completely gray.
He looked at me.
Neither of us spoke.
Then I walked toward him.
“You let me bury her.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“You let me believe my wife was dead.”
“I know.”
“You watched me raise our daughter alone.”
“I know.”
“Where is Claire?”
He looked away.
“She left.”
“Where?”
“She wanted to protect you.”
“From whom?”
“Everyone.”
I stepped closer.
“Where is my wife?”
He finally looked at me.
“She is coming home.”
Then he handed me a photograph.
Claire was sitting beside a woman.
A woman I didn't recognize.
My father whispered:
“She knows who ordered the accident.”
“Who?”
He looked toward the door.
“Your wife's mother.”
I froze.
“My wife's mother is dead.”
My father shook his head.
“No.”
Then the lights went out.
A car door slammed outside.
My father grabbed my arm.
“We have to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because they found us.”
Through the basement window, headlights appeared.
Three vehicles.
People were getting out.
My father whispered:
“Richard brought them.”
Then another figure stepped out of the middle vehicle.
Rachel.
She wasn't alone.
She was standing beside a woman I had never seen before.
May you like
My father looked at me.
“That is Claire's mother.”
