Chapter 3
I wanted Jordan to be wrong.
I wanted the repair invoice to be a coincidence.
I wanted the entire afternoon to end with an apology, a family conversation, and a promise that we would listen more carefully next time.
But Claire's expression frightened me.
She wasn't angry anymore.
She looked trapped.
I held the invoice.
"Claire, is this yours?"
She stared at the paper.
Then whispered, "Where did you get that?"
Jordan answered before I could.
"From the storage boxes in the garage."
Claire turned toward him.
"You had no right to go through my things."
I stared at her.
"That's what you're worried about?"
She looked at me.
"Marcus, those were private records."
I held up the invoice.
"Your car was repaired two days after Simone died."
Claire swallowed.
"Cars need repairs."
I nodded slowly.
"Of course."
Then I pointed toward the description.
"Front passenger-side collision damage."
Her eyes shifted.
I felt sick.
Jordan moved beside me.
"Dad, there's more."
I looked at him.
He handed me another document.
A photograph of a silver Lexus.
The front bumper was damaged.
The passenger-side headlight was broken.
The image was dated two days after Simone's accident.
I stared at it.
Then I looked toward Claire.
"What happened to your car?"
She folded her arms.
"I hit a parking barrier."
Jordan shook his head.
"That's not what you told the insurance company."
Claire's face tightened.
"Jordan, stop."
He looked at me.
His voice broke.
"The claim says she struck another vehicle."
My heart stopped.
I looked at the documents.
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
Then I turned toward Maya.
She was sitting on the sofa, crying quietly.
I realized something important.
Whatever happened eight years earlier, my ten-year-old daughter wasn't responsible.
She was two years old at the time.
She couldn't have known anything about the accident herself.
Someone had told her something.
Or she'd discovered something she didn't understand.
I knelt beside her.
"Maya, sweetheart, I need to ask you one question."
She looked at me.
"Did somebody tell you to take Jordan's notebook?"
She shook her head quickly.
Then stopped.
I waited.
Her lips trembled.
"Mommy said Jordan was making up stories."
Claire stepped forward.
"Maya!"
I raised one hand.
"Let her speak."
My daughter began crying.
"She said he was trying to break our family."
My chest tightened.
"And?"
Maya wiped her cheeks.
"She said if he found old papers, I should tell her."
I stared at Claire.
Her face was white.
Maya continued.
"I saw the notebook on Jordan's desk."
Her voice broke.
"I wanted to see what he wrote."
I nodded gently.
"Okay."
"Then I saw Mommy's name."
I swallowed.
"What did you do?"
"I took it to show her."
Jordan looked devastated.
Maya began sobbing.
"But Jordan came upstairs before I could."
I closed my eyes.
She continued.
"He told me to give it back."
I nodded.
"Then?"
"He said I couldn't keep going into his room."
My throat tightened.
"And that made you upset?"
She nodded.
"I thought he was going to tell you I was stealing."
I looked at her.
"So you shouted that he came into your room?"
She shook her head.
"I was scared."
I took a breath.
"Maya, I know you're frightened."
She began crying harder.
"But accusing someone of doing something they didn't do can seriously hurt them."
She nodded.
"I'm sorry."
Jordan looked away.
His eyes were wet.
I stood.
Then turned toward Claire.
"Did you tell Maya to watch Jordan?"
Claire's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I waited.
Finally, she whispered, "I was trying to protect her."
I stared at her.
"From what?"
"From Jordan's obsession."
My chest tightened.
"He's trying to understand his mother's death."
Claire snapped.
"He's been digging through everything!"
I took a step backward.
For years, I'd believed Claire cared about Jordan.
She helped raise him after we married.
She attended his school events.
She made birthday cakes.
She called him her son.
But now she was treating his grief like a threat.
I looked at Jordan.
"How long have you been investigating?"
He swallowed.
"Three months."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
His eyes filled.
"Because I didn't want to hurt you."
My throat tightened.
He continued.
"You finally seemed happy."
I stared at him.
"Son—"
"And Claire kept saying I needed to move on."
His voice broke.
"So I thought maybe I was wrong."
I pulled him into my arms.
For several seconds, he stood stiffly.
Then he hugged me back.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
He shook his head.
"You didn't know."
I closed my eyes.
But I knew I'd missed something.
Jordan had been suffering alone.
And I hadn't noticed.
Then he pulled back.
"Dad, I found something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
He reached for his phone.
Then opened an audio file.
I frowned.
"What's this?"
"A message from the repair shop."
I stared at him.
Jordan explained that he'd contacted the shop after finding the invoice.
A former employee had remembered the unusual repair.
The man agreed to speak with him.
I listened.
A deep voice came through the speaker.
"I remember that Lexus. The customer wanted the repairs done quickly and didn't want an insurance inspection."
My heart pounded.
Then the voice continued.
"She said nobody could know where the damage came from."
I looked toward Claire.
She was trembling.
Jordan stopped the recording.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Claire whispered,
"You don't understand what happened that night."
I froze.
May you like
Because those weren't the words of someone denying involvement.
They were the words of someone preparing to explain it.
