Chapter 3: What Was Behind the Steel Door
"Come home," Jessi said finally.
"Please.
Just come home and I'll explain everything."
"Explain it now."
"I can't do this on the phone."
"Our daughter is in that building, Jessi.
With a man you told me was de@d.
You're going to explain it right now."
Another silence.
Then I heard her breath change — the way it does when she's deciding how much to give up.
"He's not de@d," she said.
"He never was."
I looked at the steel door.
Still closed.
"Why did you tell me he was?"
"Because it was easier."
"Easier." I repeated the word like it was in a foreign language.
"Easier than what?"
"Than explaining what he did.
What our family did.
What I did." Her voice cracked on the last word.
"Please.
Come home.
Fiona is safe, I promise you she is safe."
"How do you know that?
How do you know anything about what happens in that building when I'm not here?"
She didn't answer.
That silence told me more than anything she had said.
I got out of the Range Rover.
The industrial street was empty.
A loading dock sat unused across the road.
Two security cameras were mounted above the steel door — one pointing left, one pointing right.
I stayed close to the building's edge and moved toward a narrow side passage.
There was a window.
Frosted glass, but the inner light was on.
I could hear voices.
Wendy's first.
Low and steady, the way she spoke when she thought she was the smartest person in the room.
"He doesn't suspect anything.
He never has."
Then a man's voice.
Older than I expected.
Rougher.
"You said that six months ago."
"And I was right six months ago."
"Wendy." Daniel's voice had an edge to it.
"If he finds out before the papers are signed—"
"He won't."
"You don't know that."
"I know my son-in-law.
He works.
He travels.
He trusts Jessi completely." A pause.
"That's the problem with men like him.
They think love is the same as loyalty."
I pressed my back against the brick.
Papers.
Signed.
Before he finds out.
I pulled out my phone and opened the voice memo app.
Held it toward the gap at the bottom of the window frame.
"What about Fiona?" Daniel said.
"She's fine.
She thinks this is an adventure.
Children that age don't ask the right questions."
"She asked me last time why she couldn't tell her dad."
"And what did you say?"
"I told her it was a surprise."
"Good." Wendy's voice softened in a way that made my skin crawl.
"She's a sweet girl.
She won't be a problem."
My daughter.
They were talking about my daughter as a variable in a plan.
I checked the recording.
Still running.
Then Fiona's voice came through the glass — small and clear.
"Uncle Daniel, when is Daddy going to know about you?"
The room went quiet.
Daniel answered carefully.
"Soon, sweetheart.
Very soon."
"Will he be happy?"
Nobody answered her.
I walked back to the Range Rover, sat down, and stared at the recording on my phone.
Forty-one seconds.
Wendy's voice.
Daniel's voice.
The word *papers*.
The phrase *before he finds out*.
I called my lawyer before I called Jessi back.
Marcus picked up on the first ring.
"I thought you were in Chicago."
"Change of plans," I said.
"I need you to find out if anyone has filed anything against my assets, my company, or my name in the last six months.
Quietly.
Today."
A beat.
"How serious is this?"
I looked at the steel door.
May you like
"I don't know yet.
That's what worries me."
