Chapter 8 - The Night Abigail Disappeared
I called Mrs. Ellis.
No answer.
I called again.
Still nothing.
My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the phone.
Then Abigail answered.
"Daddy?"
I stopped breathing.
"Peanut?"
"Hi!"
"Where are you?"
"Home."
"Is Mrs. Ellis there?"
"She's in the kitchen."
I closed my eyes.
"Give her the phone."
Mrs. Ellis answered.
I explained the concern.
She checked the locks and agreed not to open the door to anyone unexpected.
I called the police and shared the threatening call and the new unauthorized data access information.
Then I drove home.
By the time I arrived, two officers were outside.
Abigail ran into my arms.
"Daddy!"
I held her so tightly she complained.
"Too tight!"
I loosened my grip.
"Sorry."
She looked at me.
"Are we in trouble?"
I kissed her hair.
"No, peanut."
She frowned.
"Then why are police here?"
I looked toward Mrs. Ellis.
Then back at my daughter.
"Someone made me worried. The officers are helping us stay safe."
Abigail thought about that.
Then nodded.
"Okay."
The officers took statements and advised us on immediate safety measures.
Darlene called.
I answered.
"Blake?"
"We're safe."
She exhaled.
"Thank God."
I looked toward Abigail.
"Where's Adrian?"
"We don't know."
"Then find him."
Darlene's voice tightened.
"Investigators are working on it."
I closed my eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"No."
She paused.
"You have every right to be angry."
That night, we stayed somewhere secure while authorities assessed the threat.
Abigail fell asleep holding her rabbit.
I sat beside her.
Watching.
Waiting.
Thinking about Sarah.
Three years earlier, I'd been unable to protect my wife from whatever happened on that highway.
Now I was terrified history would repeat itself.
At two in the morning, my phone rang.
Evelyn.
"Blake."
I stood.
"What?"
"Adrian has been located."
"Where?"
"At the old warehouse."
My stomach tightened.
"The one Sarah visited?"
"Yes."
"What was he doing?"
"Trying to remove records."
I stared.
Evelyn continued.
"Investigators arrived while he was still there."
"Did they arrest him?"
"He's in custody on allegations connected to evidence interference. Other matters remain under investigation."
I closed my eyes.
Relief flooded through me.
Then Evelyn added:
"They found something."
"What?"
"A second vehicle registration."
My pulse changed.
Evelyn continued.
"The vehicle is connected to a company Adrian controlled."
I stared.
"And?"
"It may be connected to the car that struck Sarah."
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
Then I sat beside Abigail's bed.
My daughter slept peacefully.
Evelyn spoke softly.
"Blake?"
"I'm here."
"We don't have final answers yet."
"I know."
"But the evidence is significant."
I looked at Sarah's photograph on my phone.
For three years, I'd been told the driver disappeared without a trace.
Now the trail led to Oakridge.
To Adrian.
To a company car.
To the warehouse.
I closed my eyes.
"Please find out."
"We will."
The investigation took weeks.
Financial records were analyzed.
Vehicle maintenance documents were recovered.
Former employees were interviewed.
The picture became clearer.
Adrian had arranged for a company vehicle to follow Sarah after she left the family estate.
The driver confronted her on the highway.
A collision followed.
Sarah died.
The driver fled.
Adrian had concealed the vehicle's use through false maintenance and insurance records.
Investigators ultimately found the driver.
He cooperated.
His account, supported by recovered records, led to serious criminal charges.
I received the news sitting in my kitchen.
Abigail was at school.
Darlene sat across from me.
Not as my employer.
Not as my fake fiancée.
Just Darlene.
When Evelyn finished explaining the developments, I stared at the table.
Darlene reached toward my hand.
Then stopped.
I noticed.
I took hers.
We sat in silence.
Finally, I whispered:
"Sarah knew."
Darlene nodded.
"She knew too much."
I began crying.
Darlene moved closer.
"Blake."
I shook my head.
"I told her not to worry about work."
My voice broke.
"I told her everything would be fine."
Darlene held my hand.
"You didn't know."
"I should have listened."
"You did listen."
I looked at her.
She continued.
"She was protecting her evidence. She made choices because she cared about doing the right thing."
I closed my eyes.
"She should still be here."
"Yes."
For once, nobody tried making grief sound beautiful.
It wasn't.
It was cruel.
Unfair.
Permanent.
Darlene stayed until Abigail came home.
Then something happened I hadn't expected.
My daughter ran toward her.
"Princess!"
Darlene stood.
Abigail threw her arms around her.
Darlene froze.
Then carefully hugged her back.
I watched.
And something inside me shifted.
Because my daughter had spent three years missing a mother.
Darlene had spent seven years hiding pain.
And somehow, these two lonely people had found a way to make each other smile.
That evening, after Abigail went to bed, Darlene stood beside the door.
"I should go."
I looked at her.
"Do you want to?"
She hesitated.
"No."
I smiled slightly.
"Then stay for coffee."
Her eyes softened.
"Coffee?"
"Terrible coffee."
She laughed.
"My favorite."
We sat at the kitchen table.
No contract.
No gala.
No audience.
Then Darlene looked at me.
"Blake."
"Yeah?"
"I think I'm falling in love with you."
The words landed quietly.
I stared.
Then looked toward Sarah's photograph.
Darlene followed my gaze.
Her expression changed.
"I'm sorry."
I shook my head.
"Don't be."
She waited.
I took a breath.
"I think I am too."
For the first time since I'd met her, Darlene Stanley looked completely defenseless.
May you like
Then she smiled.
And I realized the woman who could control a billion-dollar corporation had no idea what to do with a man who simply wanted her to stay.
