Chapter 4: The Woman Who Disappeared
Wesley Pierce watched me from behind the wheel of his gray sedan, smiling as though he had every right to be there.
For one suspended moment, the years between us disappeared.
I saw the man who had helped me paint the walls of our first office. The man who used to bring me coffee when I worked late. The man who had held my hand at his mother's funeral and whispered that we would get through everything together.
Then I remembered his testimony.
My wife authorized the transfers. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen.
He had said those words while looking directly at me.
I had sat in the courtroom with my hands folded, waiting for him to look away.
He never did.
Now he was smiling again.
I lowered my phone and started walking toward the nearest crowded storefront.
“Paige!”” Wesley called.
I kept walking.
“Paige, don't be ridiculous. I just want to talk.””
I turned at the corner.
“Then talk to my lawyer.””
His smile vanished.
“You don't have a lawyer.””
“Not one you can intimidate.””
I saw him open the car door.
My pulse jumped.
I stepped into a pharmacy and moved toward the counter, where a woman in a white coat was arranging prescription bags.
“Excuse me,” I said.
“Could I stay here for a minute? Someone is following me.””
She looked past me through the glass storefront.
“Do you want me to call the police?””
“Yes, please.””
Outside, Wesley stopped beside the window. He looked at the pharmacy employee, then back at me.
He didn't come inside.
Instead, he raised one hand in a mocking little wave and returned to his car.
By the time the police arrived, he was gone.
I gave an officer his name, the vehicle description, and the details of the threatening messages. I also told her about Denise Harper's interrupted phone call.
She wrote everything down.
“Has he threatened you directly before?”” she asked.
“Not since my release.””
“And you believe he's connected to the person who sent these messages?””
“I believe he knows something he doesn't want me to discover.””
The officer closed her notebook.
“That's not quite the same thing.””
“I know.””
“Keep the messages. If he contacts you again, document it. If you feel physically threatened, call us immediately.””
I thanked her.
As I stepped outside, my hands were still shaking.
I had wanted justice for four years.
Now that I might finally be close to it, I was beginning to understand why people sometimes chose silence.
Silence was frightening.
But the truth could be dangerous.
Cora was waiting in the kitchen when I returned.
She had made tea and placed a plate of sandwiches on the table.
“You look as if you've seen a ghost,” she said.
“I saw Wesley.””
Her expression changed.
“Where?””
“Outside Howard's office. He followed me into town.””
“Did he approach you?””
“He tried. I went into a pharmacy and asked the staff to call the police.””
“Good.””
I sank into a chair.
“He knew I'd spoken to Howard. He knew I was investigating the transfers.””
Cora poured tea into my cup.
“Then we can assume someone has been keeping track of your movements.””
“I think so.””
I told her about Denise's call, the crash, and the message that had arrived immediately afterward.
Cora listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she placed the teapot on its stand.
“Did you save the message?””
“Yes.””
“Did you tell Howard?””
“Not yet.””
“Then do that first. Afterward, I want you to eat something.””
I stared at her.
“Cora, someone may have hurt Denise.””
“And starving yourself won't help her.””
“I can't just sit here.””
“I'm not asking you to sit here forever. I'm asking you to think before you act.””
Her voice was firm but not unkind.
I looked down at my hands.
“I spent years waiting for someone to believe me. Now Denise may have evidence, and I don't even know whether she's safe.””
Cora reached across the table.
“Then we find out what happened through people who know how to investigate it. We don't run into danger because we're frightened.””
I swallowed hard.
“Sometimes I feel like I'm back in Carrington. Every time someone raises their voice, I expect everything to be taken away again.””
Cora's expression softened.
“Look around this kitchen, Paige.””
I did.
The old clock. The pale curtains. The bowl of apples on the counter. The sunlight fading across the wooden floor.
“Where are you?””
“At your house.””
“Whose door is locked?””
“No one's.””
“Who decides when you leave?””
“I do.””
“Then remember that. You aren't back there.””
I took a shaky breath.
For the first time since seeing Wesley, I felt my shoulders begin to relax.
Cora squeezed my hand.
“Now call Howard.””
Howard answered immediately.
“I was about to call you,” he said.
“Why?””
“Because someone accessed the public case file through a request made this afternoon. I don't know whether it's related to you, but the timing concerns me.””
I sat straighter.
“Wesley followed me today.””
There was a pause.
“Tell me exactly what happened.””
I described the encounter and read him the threatening text. Then I told him about Denise's call.
When I repeated her final words, Howard went silent.
“She said the original payment logs showed the approvals came from somewhere else,” I continued.
“Then I heard a crash.””
“Did you recognize the man's voice?””
“No.””
“Did Denise give you any indication of where she was calling from?””
“No. She refused to tell me.””
“Did she mention having the original records?””
“Not directly.””
Howard exhaled.
“Listen carefully. Don't call her back. Don't try to locate her through unofficial channels. I've already contacted a colleague who can help determine whether there's a legitimate way to reach her.””
“What if she needs help?””
“If we learn she's in immediate danger, we'll contact the appropriate authorities. But we need to distinguish what we know from what we suspect.””
I hated how reasonable he sounded.
I wanted to drive across the state and search every street until I found Denise.
Instead, I forced myself to listen.
“What about the logs?”” I asked.
“I'm making progress. The company used a third-party payment platform, and I believe the vendor may still retain archived authentication records. I've submitted a formal preservation request through counsel.””
“Could those records prove Wesley lied?””
“They could help establish who accessed the system. Whether that proves fraud or perjury depends on what the records show and how they fit with the other evidence.””
I closed my eyes.
“Everything always depends on something else.””
“That's how evidence works, Paige. One fact leads to another. We don't get to skip the difficult parts.””
I almost laughed.
“I'm beginning to understand that.””
“Good. There's something else. I reviewed the corporate filings for Meridian Holdings. Claudia's name appears on an amendment dated six months before your arrest.””
“Six months?””
“Yes.””
“Could she have created the company before the transfers began?””
“Possibly. I haven't established the exact ownership timeline yet.””
My mind raced.
“If she owned Meridian, and Meridian received money from Northbridge—”
“We still need the complete transaction trail,” Howard interrupted.
“But the connection is significant enough to investigate.””
I stared at the kitchen wall.
“What should I do now?””
“Nothing that alerts your family. Continue documenting every contact. I'll update you when I have something verifiable.””
After the call, I sat quietly for several minutes.
Cora placed a sandwich in front of me.
“Eat.””
I obeyed.
Then I opened my notebook and wrote the date, the time, Wesley's vehicle description, the text message, and Denise's exact words as best I could remember them.
When I finished, I noticed something I had overlooked.
Denise hadn't said she thought the records would help me.
She'd said she had seen them.
She knew what they showed.
And someone had apparently been afraid of what she might say next.
That night, I dreamed of the courtroom.
Wesley stood in the witness box wearing the navy suit I'd bought him for our tenth anniversary. Claudia sat behind him, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
The prosecutor held up a stack of documents.
“Ms. Delaney authorized these transactions, correct?””
Wesley nodded.
“Yes.””
“And you attempted to stop her?””
“I did everything I could.””
The jury watched me.
I tried to speak, but no sound came out.
Then my father appeared at the back of the courtroom.
He was wearing his old fishing jacket, the one with the torn pocket.
He looked at the Rolex on Claudia's wrist.
“Why did you let her take it?”” he asked.
I woke with a gasp.
The room was dark.
My hands were clenched in the quilt, and my heart hammered against my ribs.
For a few seconds, I didn't know where I was.
Then I heard the grandfather clock downstairs.
I sat up and reached for the glass of water on my bedside table.
My phone lit up.
An email from Howard.
*Subject: Preliminary Findings — Clearwater Authentication Records*
I opened it immediately.
His message was short.
The payment platform had confirmed that archived logs existed. They were stored under a corporate account maintained by Clearwater's former technology contractor.
The records had not been included in the trial exhibits.
Howard was arranging access through the appropriate legal channels.
At the bottom, he had added one sentence.
*The archive may also contain a record of a security credential being replaced shortly before the first disputed transfer.*
I read the sentence twice.
A credential replacement.
Someone had changed something in the system.
I remembered the morning Claudia had come into my office carrying a cup of coffee and a folder.
“Your security token is acting up,” she'd said.
“I'll ask IT to reset it.””
I'd been preparing to leave for the hospital.
“Can it wait until tomorrow?””
“It's just routine maintenance, Paige. I'll handle it.””
I had barely looked up from my desk.
I'd trusted her.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the email.
Could Claudia have replaced my credentials before the transfers?
Had she done it herself, or had someone helped her?
And why had the original records disappeared from the case?
A second email arrived.
This one was from an address I didn't recognize.
There was no subject line.
Only an attachment.
The filename was *CLEARWATER_0421.pdf*.
I hesitated, then opened it.
The document contained a scanned internal access report from Clearwater Medical Supply.
At the top was the date of the first disputed transfer.
Below it were two entries.
One showed my account being disabled.
The other showed a replacement credential being issued to an administrative user.
The name beside that user was Claudia Delaney.
I stopped breathing.
Then I noticed the timestamp.
The credential had been replaced eleven minutes before the first $48,000 transfer.
May you like
At the bottom of the report, someone had typed a single sentence.
*This is only the beginning. Ask who authorized the override.*
