Chapter 4 - Rebecca Carter
Rebecca Carter had been twenty-six when Catherine died.
Official payroll listed her as temporary household transportation staff.
She worked only four months.
Then resigned the morning after Catherine’s crash.
No forwarding address.
No tax filings in Illinois afterward.
No police interview.
Nothing.
I stared at the old employment file.
“How did this happen?”
James, my head of security, looked ashamed.
He had not run security then.
My father’s man, Leonard Pike, had.
“File was closed by Pike.”
Of course.
Everything kept circling back.
Emily stood near my desk.
Noah had gone upstairs under protest.
Daniel remained because I no longer trusted him out of sight.
I asked Emily:
“Rebecca is your sister?”
“Yes.”
“Older?”
“Six years.”
“Why did she work here?”
“To watch Catherine.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked her.”
I laughed once.
“You sent your sister into my house?”
“Catherine asked us.”
“Us?”
“She contacted both of us after she found the payment.”
“So Rebecca became her driver.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
My marriage had apparently contained an entire intelligence operation I never noticed.
That realization was humiliating.
“What happened the night Catherine died?”
Emily looked at Daniel.
He shook his head.
He didn’t know.
Emily began.
Rebecca was supposed to drive Catherine that evening.
But Leonard Pike changed the schedule.
Claimed Rebecca was sick.
She wasn’t.
Rebecca arrived anyway.
Saw Catherine leave with Pike.
Followed in her own car.
Then called Emily.
“She said something was wrong.”
“What?”
“Pike wasn’t driving toward the lake house.”
Daniel frowned.
“But Catherine called me from the highway.”
“After Rebecca intercepted them.”
We stared.
Emily continued.
“Rebecca forced Pike to stop at a gas station.”
“How?”
“She blocked his car.”
That sounded insane.
Emily smiled sadly.
“She was stubborn.”
“What happened?”
“Catherine got out.”
“Then?”
“Rebecca drove her.”
“So Pike wasn’t in the crash.”
“No.”
The official report said Catherine was driving alone.
That was because—
I looked at Emily.
“Rebecca drove.”
“Yes.”
“Then where was she?”
Emily began crying.
“I don’t know.”
The passenger compartment had burned badly after the collision.
One body found.
Identified through jewelry and dental records as Catherine.
If Rebecca was driving—
No.
I stood.
“Which body did they identify?”
Emily looked sick.
“That’s why I came here.”
My stomach turned.
“You think Catherine survived.”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel stood.
“Impossible.”
Emily looked at him.
“Is it?”
I remembered the funeral.
Closed casket.
Severe trauma.
I never saw her face.
I trusted identification.
Because grief makes paperwork feel merciful.
James immediately contacted the county medical examiner archives.
Old records.
Dental confirmation.
But the file had anomalies.
One missing photograph.
Chain-of-custody signature by Leonard Pike.
Again.
I wanted to tear the room apart.
Daniel whispered:
“Raymond.”
Everything seemed to point there.
Too neatly.
I had learned enough that morning to distrust neat answers.
“Why call Emily Rebecca?”
I asked.
Emily wiped her face.
“They look similar.”
“No.”
“Raymond knew Rebecca well?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel did.
His face showed it.
“What?”
He looked trapped.
“Raymond and Rebecca had a relationship.”
Emily turned.
“What?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“Before she worked here.”
Emily’s expression shifted from shock to betrayal.
“When?”
“A year.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw them.”
“Did Catherine know?”
“Eventually.”
Pieces moved.
Raymond.
Rebecca.
Catherine.
Pike.
The crash.
Maybe Rebecca was not simply Catherine’s ally.
Maybe she had divided loyalties.
I hated myself for thinking it.
Emily hated it too.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t turn my sister into the villain because she’s missing.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did in your face.”
She was right.
Again.
James returned with another file.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“A private storage account was opened two days after the crash.”
“Whose?”
“Rebecca Carter.”
Emily inhaled.
“Where?”
“Evanston.”
“Still active?”
“Yes.”
Someone had been paying annual fees for six years.
Not Rebecca.
Cash deposits.
We drove there that afternoon.
I did not allow Noah.
He argued.
Emily supported me this time.
That helped.
The storage manager opened Unit 318 under warrant obtained through a detective I trusted.
Inside:
One metal cabinet.
Three boxes.
A suitcase.
No dust on the floor near the door.
Someone visited recently.
The first box contained Catherine’s clothes.
Emily sat down.
I couldn’t.
I touched one scarf.
Remembered buying it in Paris.
Second box:
Rebecca’s identification.
Passport.
Driver license.
Photographs.
One photograph showed Rebecca and Raymond together.
Emily stared.
“She never told me.”
Daniel whispered:
“Maybe she couldn’t.”
Third box:
Medical records.
A woman admitted anonymously to a private rehabilitation center in Wisconsin the night after Catherine’s crash.
Severe burns.
Fractured ribs.
Head trauma.
Name:
Jane Doe.
Transferred three weeks later.
Destination confidential.
I felt sick.
Two women.
One body.
One survivor.
Which?
Then Emily found an envelope.
MICHAEL.
My name.
Catherine’s handwriting.
I opened it.
Michael,
If you are reading this, then either I failed to come home or somebody finally became brave enough to show you the truth.
My hands shook.
She wrote about Raymond.
The accounts.
Daniel.
Pike.
Then Rebecca.
Rebecca made mistakes. Do not judge her before you know what they were.
I looked at Emily.
Continued.
She is trying to help me now.
If something happens, trust her sister Emily.
Emily covered her mouth.
Catherine knew I might meet Emily.
Then:
There is one thing I have not told you because I have been afraid of what you will do with it.
Noah is not the reason Raymond wants me silent.
You are.
My heart pounded.
I kept reading.
Your father did not leave Harrington Logistics to you cleanly. He left a second ownership instrument that becomes active if criminal conduct by a controlling family member is proven.
I stared.
A morality clause.
My father?
Impossible.
Then:
If Raymond’s accounts become public, his shares revert to you permanently. If your own conduct is proven criminal, yours transfer into trust for Noah.
That explained everything.
Raymond wanted control.
But killing me might trigger trust review.
Weakening me?
Discrediting me?
Manipulating Daniel?
Better.
Catherine found documents that could destroy Raymond’s position.
Then final paragraph:
I hid the original instrument with the only person Raymond will never suspect.
I looked at Emily.
“Who?”
She shook her head.
Then a sound came from behind the cabinet.
A phone.
Old.
Charging.
Active.
James picked it up.
One missed call.
Today.
From:
R. CARTER.
May you like
Emily stopped breathing.
Her sister was alive.
