Then whoever had planned it already knew exactly what I would do next.
The thought settled over me like ice.
I looked at Detective Miller.
“What would I do next?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
I realized something.
He wasn’t looking at me anymore.
He was looking at the fingerprint report.
“Detective?”
He finally raised his eyes.
“We need to get you somewhere safe.”
I almost laughed.
“Safe from whom?”
“We don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I agree.”
“No. You don’t understand.”
I stood slowly.
“For the last twelve hours, everyone has told me they don’t know. Daniel doesn’t know. Rachel doesn’t know. Thomas apparently knows enough to threaten me, and you don’t know who is behind any of it.”
Detective Miller remained calm.
“But you do know one thing.”
“What?”
“You are at the center of it.”
Those words hurt.
Not because they were accusing me.
Because they were true.
Every road seemed to lead back to me.
My name.
My accounts.
My fingerprints.
My house.
My wedding ring.
My husband.
I looked toward the back door.
Rachel was still outside.
Thomas was somewhere nearby.
And Daniel was supposedly being held.
I suddenly realized I had spent the entire night reacting.
Canceling cards.
Changing locks.
Answering questions.
Following clues other people had left for me.
That was exactly what whoever created this wanted.
They wanted me frightened.
They wanted me confused.
They wanted me moving in circles.
I looked at Detective Miller.
“I’m done reacting.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“I’m done letting everyone else decide what I know.”
I walked to the study.
“Mrs. Harper—”
“No.”
I turned.
“If someone has been using my identity for eight months, I want to know everything.”
“We’ll investigate.”
“You’ve been investigating.”
I pointed at the laptop.
“And somehow I’m still the one standing in my bedroom staring at forged documents with my name on them.”
He didn’t speak.
“I want the truth.”
Detective Miller studied me.
Then he nodded.
“All right.”
He walked into the study.
“Then we’re going to start with your computer.”
Officer Grant remained near the hallway.
I sat down.
Detective Miller opened a forensic program on his department laptop.
“We’re going to check recent login activity.”
I watched the screen.
Numbers appeared.
Dates.
Times.
Locations.
Then one line caught my attention.
I leaned closer.
“Stop.”
Detective Miller paused.
“What?”
“That.”
A login appeared from six months earlier.
The location was listed as a hotel.
Not in Cancun.
Not anywhere near us.
Chicago.
I looked at the date.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“I was in Chicago that week.”
Detective Miller looked at me.
“Why?”
“My mother’s estate attorney had a meeting there.”
“Did Daniel go with you?”
“No.”
“Rachel?”
“No.”
I stared at the screen.
“Someone logged into my computer while I was in Chicago.”
“Apparently.”
“From where?”
“The hotel.”
I remembered that trip.
I had stayed at a hotel near downtown.
I’d spent two nights there.
I had left my laptop in the room while I went to dinner.
My heart started beating faster.
“Could someone have accessed it physically?”
“If they had your password.”
“I didn’t write my password anywhere.”
Detective Miller looked at me.
“What password did you use?”
I hesitated.
Then I said it.
His expression changed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Was it Daniel’s birthday?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
He looked at Officer Grant.
Then back at me.
“Mrs. Harper, what was your laptop password before that?”
“My mother’s birthday.”
“Did you ever change it?”
“Daniel suggested I use something easier.”
I felt sick.
“Six months ago.”
The same time Northstar appeared.
The same time someone began using my identity.
I whispered:
“Daniel knew my password.”
Detective Miller nodded.
“Yes.”
“But that doesn’t prove he did it.”
“No.”
“Then we need more.”
He continued scrolling.
Then he stopped.
“There.”
“What?”
“There was another login.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
He read the location.
“Your house.”
I stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because I was here.”
“At what time?”
“Between eleven and midnight.”
He pointed to the timestamp.
11:47 PM.
I remembered exactly where I had been.
Upstairs.
Standing in the bedroom.
Waiting for Daniel to call.
I had been alone.
Or so I thought.
“Someone logged into my computer while I was upstairs.”
Detective Miller nodded.
“Yes.”
I felt a chill.
“Can you tell what they accessed?”
He checked.
“Financial files.”
My stomach turned.
“Which ones?”
“Northstar documents.”
I closed my eyes.
Someone had been inside my computer last night.
And I’d been downstairs changing locks shortly afterward.
Then I remembered something.
“Wait.”
I stood.
“When the locksmith arrived, the front door was already locked.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“What’s your point?”
“I checked the house before he arrived.”
Detective Miller looked at me.
“Everything seemed normal.”
“Did you check your study?”
“No.”
“Then whoever accessed the computer could have been here while you were on the phone with the locksmith.”
I stared at him.
The realization was horrifying.
Someone could have been hiding in my house.
The whole time.
I looked toward the hallway.
“Search the house.”
Officer Grant nodded.
He moved upstairs.
Detective Miller followed.
I stayed behind.
A minute later, Officer Grant shouted:
“Detective!”
We rushed upstairs.
He was standing inside the guest bedroom.
The window was open.
My curtains moved in the morning breeze.
“Was this window open when you went to bed?” Miller asked.
“No.”
He looked down.
There were faint muddy marks on the carpet.
Not footprints.
Just the edge of a shoe.
Someone had stood there.
Then Officer Grant pointed beneath the bed.
“There.”
He pulled out a small black case.
Detective Miller opened it.
Inside were several memory cards.
And photographs.
I stepped closer.
The first photograph showed me leaving the grocery store.
The second showed me sitting at a restaurant.
The third showed me getting into my car.
The fourth showed me standing outside my mother’s attorney’s office.
I felt sick.
“How long?”
Detective Miller examined the photographs.
“Some are months old.”
I picked one up.
It showed me and Rachel together.
We were laughing outside a café.
I remembered that day.
Rachel had told me she wanted to tell me something important.
But she’d changed her mind.
I’d forgotten about it.
Now I wondered what she had planned to say.
I looked at another photograph.
Daniel was in it.
He was standing across the street from me.
Watching.
My breath caught.
“That’s Daniel.”
Detective Miller looked closely.
“When was this?”
I checked the date printed on the back.
Six months ago.
The beginning.
“He was following me.”
Detective Miller didn’t answer.
I turned to him.
“Why?”
He looked at the evidence.
“Maybe he wasn’t following you.”
“Then what?”
“Maybe he was watching someone else.”
I frowned.
“Who?”
He pointed at the photograph.
Behind me, almost hidden by a parked vehicle, was another person.
A woman.
I zoomed in.
My heart stopped.
It was Rachel.
I looked at Detective Miller.
“Daniel and Rachel were both watching me.”
“Looks like it.”
“Together?”
“Possibly.”
I suddenly understood why their betrayal had felt so carefully staged.
Maybe it was.
But I still didn’t know why.
Then I noticed something in the photograph.
Rachel wasn’t looking at me.
She was looking at Daniel.
And Daniel wasn’t looking at me either.
He was looking at someone behind Rachel.
I zoomed in again.
A black sedan.
The same type of vehicle I’d seen parked outside my house the previous evening.
“That car.”
Detective Miller looked.
“What about it?”
“It’s been following me.”
He stared at the photograph.
Then at me.
“You’re sure?”
“I’ve seen it before.”
“Where?”
“Outside my office.”
“How many times?”
“Three.”
“Did you report it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I thought I was imagining things.”
I felt embarrassed saying it.
Detective Miller didn’t judge me.
Instead, he asked:
“Did you ever take a photograph of it?”
“No.”
He looked back at the evidence.
“We may already have one.”
He held up the photograph.
The black sedan.
Six months ago.
The same vehicle.
My skin prickled.
“This started six months ago.”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel knew.”
“Maybe.”
“Rachel knew.”
“Maybe.”
“Thomas knew.”
“Likely.”
“Then why did nobody tell me?”
Detective Miller didn’t answer.
I knew why.
Because someone wanted me ignorant.
But who?
My phone suddenly buzzed.
This time it wasn’t a message.
It was a voicemail notification.
Unknown number.
I pressed play.
Rachel’s voice filled the room.
“Elena, if you’re hearing this, I’m probably already gone.”
I looked at Detective Miller.
Rachel continued.
“I need you to listen carefully.”
Her breathing sounded hurried.
“I lied about Daniel.”
I swallowed.
“I lied about Northstar.”
A pause.
“And I lied about Thomas.”
Detective Miller leaned closer.
Rachel’s voice became quieter.
“Thomas isn’t the person controlling this.”
My heart began pounding.
“He works for them.”
“Who?” I whispered.
The recording continued.
“I don’t know the name of the person at the top.”
“Rachel, tell me.”
“I only know the account number.”
I stared at the phone.
Then she gave me a series of numbers.
Detective Miller immediately wrote them down.
Rachel continued.
“That account has been receiving money from every transaction made using your identity.”
I felt numb.
“Elena, the account isn’t in Daniel’s name.”
A pause.
“It’s in yours.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
Detective Miller looked at me.
Rachel continued.
“Your real name.”
“Not the name they forged.”
“Your actual bank account.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“That’s impossible.”
Rachel’s voice cracked.
“I know.”
“That’s why I stayed close to you.”
“That’s why I became your friend.”
I closed my eyes.
Rachel wasn’t finished.
“I was assigned to watch you.”
My eyes opened.
“What?”
“I was supposed to make sure you never discovered the account.”
I couldn’t move.
For twenty-two years, I had believed Rachel was my best friend.
Maybe she had been placed in my life.
Not by accident.
Not because of Daniel.
But because of money.
Then Rachel said:
“And Daniel wasn’t your husband when this began.”
I stared at the phone.
“He was recruited.”
My heart sank.
“He was supposed to marry you.”
Detective Miller’s expression changed.
“For your identity.”
I felt like I had been punched.
“No.”
The recording continued.
“Elena, I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“I didn’t know how to get you out.”
“And then I fell in love with you.”
Tears filled my eyes.
That sentence hurt in a way I couldn’t explain.
Because suddenly every memory with Rachel became a question.
Every birthday.
Every holiday.
Every late-night conversation.
Every secret.
How much of it had been real?
Rachel’s voice became shaky.
“Daniel eventually realized what they were doing.”
“He tried to stop them.”
“That’s why they turned against him.”
“But Daniel made one terrible mistake.”
I leaned closer.
“What?”
“He told them he had copied everything.”
My heart raced.
“Everything?”
“Financial records.”
“Names.”
“Account numbers.”
“Payments.”
“And most importantly…”
She paused.
“The original document that proves who owns the nine million dollars.”
The recording ended.
I stared at the screen.
“Where is it?” I whispered.
Detective Miller looked at me.
“We need to find Daniel.”
I nodded.
Then the back door suddenly opened.
Officer Grant shouted.
“Detective!”
We rushed downstairs.
Rachel was standing in the kitchen.
Her clothes were dirty.
There was blood on her sleeve.
Her face was pale.
She raised both hands.
“Don’t shoot.”
Officer Grant kept his weapon trained on her.
Detective Miller stepped forward.
“Rachel Reed?”
Rachel looked at him.
“Yes.”
“Where is Thomas?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is Daniel?”
She looked at me.
Then she whispered:
“He was taken.”
“By whom?”
Rachel’s eyes filled with tears.
“The same people who have been watching Elena.”
I stepped toward her.
“You lied to me.”
“I know.”
“You used me.”
“I know.”
“You were assigned to watch me?”
Rachel nodded.
“For years.”
My chest tightened.
“Then why are you here?”
She looked at me.
“Because I found out what they were planning.”
“What?”
“They aren’t trying to steal your money.”
I frowned.
“Then what do they want?”
Rachel looked toward Detective Miller.
“They want Elena to take the blame for a murder.”
The room went silent.
“What murder?”
Rachel’s eyes locked onto mine.
“The person who originally owned the nine million dollars.”
“Who was that?”
Rachel whispered:
“Your father.”
I froze.
“My father died six years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then what does he have to do with this?”
Rachel swallowed.
“Everything.”
Detective Miller stepped forward.
“Explain.”
Rachel looked at me.
“Your father didn’t die naturally.”
My heart stopped.
“What did you say?”
“He was murdered.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Elena—”
“No.”
I backed away.
“My father had a heart attack.”
“That’s what the report said.”
“Because that’s what they wanted everyone to believe.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Who killed him?”
Rachel looked toward the window.
Her expression changed.
“That’s the part I never discovered.”
“Then how do you know?”
She looked at me.
“Because your father left something behind.”
“What?”
“A recording.”
“Where?”
Rachel opened her mouth.
Before she could answer, Detective Miller’s phone rang.
He answered.
“Detective Miller.”
He listened.
His face drained of color.
“You’re sure?”
Another pause.
“Send it now.”
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
“What happened?”
He looked at Rachel.
Then at me.
“They found Daniel.”
My heart jumped.
“Where?”
“In an abandoned warehouse outside the city.”
“Is he alive?”
Detective Miller didn’t answer.
“Is he alive?”
He finally looked at me.
“Yes.”
Relief rushed through me.
Then he added:
“But there’s a problem.”
“What?”
“They found him beside a dead man.”
My blood went cold.
“Who?”
Detective Miller hesitated.
Then he said:
“Your father’s former attorney.”
Rachel covered her mouth.
I stared at Detective Miller.
“My father’s attorney?”
He nodded.
“And Mrs. Harper…”
“What?”
“The attorney’s hand was holding a photograph.”
“What photograph?”
Detective Miller looked directly at me.
“It was a photograph of you.”
He paused.
“Taken six years ago.”
I felt the room spinning.
Six years ago.
The year my father died.
The year I thought my life had simply changed because I had lost him.
But maybe that wasn’t what happened.
Maybe my entire life had been built on a lie.
And as Detective Miller reached for the evidence photograph, my phone buzzed one more time.
A new message.
This time, there was no unknown number.
It came from Daniel.
Three words.
ASK YOUR MOTHER.
