Chapter 15 - THE FRIEND AT THE TABLEEthan refused to believe it.
That frightened Claire more than anger would have.
“Marcus wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’ve known him fifteen years.”
Claire looked at him.
“You knew Elise for nine.”
The sentence hurt.
She regretted it immediately.
Ethan did not react defensively.
“That’s fair.”
Marcus arrived thirty minutes later.
He took one look at their faces.
“What happened?”
Ethan placed the insurance documents on the table.
Marcus read them.
Then became very still.
“You think I did this?”
“I think your authorization appears on a policy amendment made six days before the explosion.”
Marcus laughed.
Not humor.
Disbelief.
“I didn’t sign this.”
Claire studied him.
“Digital authorization.”
“Then someone used my credentials.”
Ethan looked toward him.
Marcus looked genuinely wounded.
“You believe this?”
“I don’t know what I believe.”
That was the correct answer.
It also broke something.
Marcus stood.
“I was there when she left you.”
Claire stiffened.
Marcus pointed at Ethan.
“I sat with you while you became a human disaster.”
“Marcus—”
“I told you when you were wrong even when you hated me for it.”
His voice cracked.
“And now somebody puts my name on a document and suddenly I’m capable of burning people alive?”
Ethan stood.
“No one said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Marcus left.
Claire exhaled.
“That went well.”
Ethan sat.
“I just accused my best friend of attempted murder.”
“Technically, you asked him about insurance fraud.”
“Thank you. Much better.”
That night, Claire woke at 2:14.
Ethan’s side of the bed was empty.
She found him downstairs staring at his phone.
“Can’t sleep?”
“No.”
She sat beside him.
“You want me to tell you Marcus is innocent?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t.”
“I know.”
Claire rested her head against his shoulder.
Five minutes passed.
Then Ethan said:
“I’m afraid.”
“Of Marcus?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“That every time we uncover something about my father, I understand myself less.”
Claire lifted her head.
“You aren’t an inheritance.”
He looked at her.
“You get to decide what continues.”
Ethan kissed her forehead.
Then Claire’s phone rang.
Hannah.
At 2:22 a.m.
Claire answered.
“Hannah?”
She heard crying.
Then:
“Claire, someone is inside my house.”
Claire stood.
“Where are you?”
“Bedroom.”
“Lock the door.”
“I did.”
A crash sounded through the phone.
Claire’s blood froze.
“Hannah?”
Ethan was already calling 911.
Then a man’s voice came faintly through Hannah’s phone.
May you like
“Tell Claire to stop digging.”
The line went dead.
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