Chapter 7: The Second Name
Marcus Webb was Vivian's first cousin on their mother's side.
He was forty-one, unmarried, and had worked in commercial real estate for fifteen years.
He and Vivian had been close since childhood — the kind of close that had always seemed natural to Daniel, because families had their clusters and Marcus had always been Vivian's.
Daniel had never had reason to question it.
He had reason now.
He pulled up his phone records first.
The morning of the estate meeting, Marcus had texted at 8:14 a.m.: *Good luck today.
Let me know how it goes.* Friendly.
Normal.
The kind of message that meant nothing on its own.
Except Daniel had not told Marcus about the meeting.
He had mentioned the general stress of the estate process over dinner.
He had not given a date.
Someone had told Marcus the date.
Daniel called Detective Reyes at six that evening.
Reyes had been the lead officer on Noah's missing persons case and had been present when Vivian was taken in.
"I need to tell you about someone," Daniel said.
Reyes listened without interrupting.
When Daniel finished, he said: "We've already pulled her phone records from the last thirty days.
I can tell you there are seventeen calls between your sister and a number registered to a Marcus Webb in the two weeks before the incident."
"Seventeen."
"The last one was at 7:58 the morning you and your wife left for the estate meeting."
Daniel sat down.
"He confirmed the schedule," Daniel said.
"That's what it looks like," Reyes said.
"We're bringing him in tomorrow morning."
Daniel thanked him and ended the call.
He sat in the kitchen for a long time.
He had eaten dinner with Marcus three months ago.
He had talked about his father, about the estate, about how tired he was.
Marcus had refilled his glass and nodded and said *family stuff is always the hardest* and Daniel had felt, for an hour, slightly less alone.
He had been talking to the person helping Vivian plan it.
Elena came home at eight with the children.
She got them to bed quickly, efficiently, without making it feel rushed.
She had a gift for that — for moving through hard moments without letting the children feel the weight of them.
When she came downstairs, Daniel told her about Marcus.
Elena sat down across from him.
She didn't speak for a moment.
"The dinner," she said finally.
"Three months ago."
"Yes."
"He asked you a lot of questions that night.
About the estate timeline.
About when the lawyer meetings were scheduled." She looked at the table.
"I remember thinking he seemed very interested."
"I thought he was being supportive."
"So did I." She looked up.
"Daniel, who else knew?
Who else could Vivian have used?"
It was the right question.
Daniel thought about the last six months.
The people who had been around them.
The conversations he had not thought twice about.
He thought about Vivian's friend Caroline, who had helped them move into the house and had spent two hours in the living room complimenting the renovation.
He thought about the estate lawyer's assistant, a young man named Todd, who had rescheduled their appointment twice before landing on the date that became the day of the incident.
He thought about how many small pieces a plan like this required.
And how many people, knowingly or not, had handed those pieces over.
"I don't know yet," he said.
Elena reached across and took his hand.
Her grip was firm.
"Then we find out," she said.
"All of it.
We don't stop until we know the whole shape of it."
He looked at her.
Three years ago, when his father had first gotten sick, Vivian had told Daniel privately that Elena was only with him for the inheritance.
*She's smart,* Vivian had said.
*She sees what you have.
Just be careful.*
He had dismissed it at the time.
He had been right to.
"Patricia wants to meet in person tomorrow," he said.
"She thinks the case is strong enough to move quickly."
"Good." Elena didn't let go of his hand.
"What time?"
"Ten."
"I'll be there."
He nodded.
From upstairs came the soft sound of Lily's voice — not distressed, just talking, the way she did sometimes when she was falling asleep, narrating something to herself or to her stuffed animals or to the room.
Daniel listened until it stopped.
Then he said: "She's the one who found him.
Lily.
She heard him through the floor."
Elena's eyes went bright.
"She kept saying she heard him," Daniel said.
"I almost told her to go back to bed."
Elena pressed her lips together.
She didn't say anything.
She didn't need to.
Daniel looked at the ceiling.
"I'm going to check on them," he said.
He went upstairs.
He stood in the doorway of Noah's room for a long time, watching his son sleep.
Noah was on his side, one arm around a stuffed dog, his breathing slow and even.
Daniel pulled the blanket up an inch.
Noah didn't stir.
On the way back down the hall, Daniel stopped at Lily's door.
She was asleep, finally, her face relaxed, the dinosaur hoodie tucked under her arm.
He stood there for a moment.
Then he went back downstairs.
May you like
He had work to do.
And tomorrow, Marcus Webb was going to sit across from a detective and explain seventeen phone calls.
