Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Knew Too Much
I had spent nine years telling myself Olivia Reed was damaged.
That she needed compassion.
That losing her brother had left a wound nobody could reasonably expect to heal.
But looking at the photograph of my daughter, I felt something colder than anger.
I felt fear.
Olivia had been watching Lily.
And someone wanted me to know it.
I forwarded the email and photograph to Harris, preserving the original message and attachment.
Then I called the hospital security desk.
“Please make sure nobody enters my daughter's room without my approval.”
The officer asked whether there was a specific person I wanted restricted.
“Yes.”
I gave him Olivia's full name.
When Daniel arrived twenty minutes later, he was carrying two coffees and a bag of breakfast sandwiches.
He looked exhausted.
His hair was unwashed.
He had changed into jeans and the gray sweatshirt Lily bought him for Father's Day.
For a second, he looked like the man who used to bring me coffee after overnight shifts.
“Rachel,” he said, “you haven't eaten.”
I took the coffee.
Not because I wanted it.
Because I was too tired to refuse.
“Did Olivia call you again?”
He hesitated.
“She's having a difficult time.”
I stared at him.
“Our daughter is on a ventilator.”
“I know.”
“Then stop telling me about Olivia's difficult time.”
He put the food down.
“She's scared because investigators think she had something to do with the fire.”
“Did she?”
Daniel looked genuinely shocked.
“Of course not.”
“How do you know?”
“I know her.”
“You thought you knew me too.”
He frowned.
“What does that mean?”
I turned my laptop toward him.
The photograph filled the screen.
Daniel leaned closer.
His face lost color.
“Where did you get that?”
“Someone emailed it to me.”
He stared at Olivia's reflection.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“She told me she hadn't seen Lily in weeks.”
I waited.
Daniel swallowed.
“Rachel, there has to be an explanation.”
“There always is.”
“Don't do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make everything sound like I've already decided she's innocent.”
I looked at him.
“You have.”
He had no answer.
At noon, Harris arrived with Detective Sarah Whitcomb from Portland Police.
She was in her early forties, with sharp eyes and the patient manner of someone who knew silence could be more useful than shouting.
She asked Daniel to wait outside.
He objected.
“I'm Lily's father.”
“And this interview concerns information Rachel received independently,” Whitcomb replied. “We'll speak with you separately.”
After he left, she showed me a printed timeline.
Olivia had entered Mercer at 3:52 p.m.
Graham Voss arrived at 3:58.
At 4:09, Olivia called Daniel.
At 4:11, Eric Bell's maintenance credential was used.
At 4:17, the alarm activated.
The first emergency calls reporting visible smoke had come from the fifth floor.
“What about the photograph of Lily?” I asked.
Whitcomb folded her hands.
“We haven't established when it was taken or why Olivia was there.”
“She was watching my child.”
“That's one possibility. We need to verify the image and its source.”
I appreciated that she didn't tell me what I wanted to hear.
Fear was making me desperate for certainty.
But certainty without evidence was how people made terrible decisions.
I had just watched my husband prove that.
Whitcomb continued.
“Do you know whether Olivia had any business relationship with Graham Voss?”
“Not until yesterday.”
“Did she ever ask about your work?”
I almost said no.
Then I remembered Thanksgiving.
Six months earlier, Olivia had joined us for dinner because Daniel insisted she shouldn't spend the holiday alone.
After Lily went upstairs, Olivia asked whether I was still working on the Mercer renovation.
I said yes.
She asked whether the building was safe.
I told her I had concerns.
She smiled.
“Concerns like what?”
I explained that some fire doors had been altered, and that the smoke-control documentation didn't match the installed equipment.
She asked whether those problems could shut the building down.
I said they could, depending on their severity and whether the owner corrected them.
At the time, I thought she was making conversation.
Now I remembered how carefully she listened.
I told Whitcomb everything.
She wrote it down.
Then she asked a question that made my stomach tighten.
“Rachel, did you ever tell Olivia where your inspection files were stored?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Did Daniel have access to your home computer?”
“Yes.”
“Your work laptop?”
“He knew the password to my old laptop. Not my current one.”
“Could he have seen project documents you brought home?”
I thought about the nights I worked at our dining table.
The drawings spread across the wood.
The reports I left beside my coffee.
“Yes.”
Whitcomb closed her notebook.
“We'll need to establish who accessed the project records.”
Before she left, she handed me a receipt for the digital evidence I had provided.
“Don't confront Olivia. Let us handle it.”
I promised I wouldn't.
I meant it.
For approximately four hours.
At 5:30 p.m., I went downstairs to buy another coffee.
When the elevator doors opened, Olivia was standing in the lobby.
She wore a cream-colored coat and held a bouquet of white lilies.
Her hair was neatly styled.
There wasn't a visible scratch on her.
“Rachel.”
I stopped.
She looked at the flowers.
“I wanted to see Lily.”
“No.”
Her expression crumpled.
“Please. I love that little girl.”
I stepped closer.
“Then why were you photographing her outside my house?”
Olivia went completely still.
The flowers trembled in her hand.
“What?”
“I saw the picture.”
Her eyes darted toward the elevators.
“Rachel, I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
She lowered her voice.
“Not here.”
“Here is fine.”
“Please.”
For the first time in all the years I had known her, Olivia looked genuinely frightened of me.
Or frightened of something else.
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“I was trying to warn you.”
I didn't take it.
“About what?”
“Voss.”
The name came out in a whisper.
“He's not who you think he is.”
“I know exactly what kind of developer he is.”
“No, Rachel. You don't.”
She glanced over her shoulder.
“He knew about Lily's rehearsal. He knew you were going to be there.”
My heart began pounding.
“How?”
Olivia's eyes filled.
“Because somebody gave him your schedule.”
“Who?”
She looked toward the elevator again.
Then she said something I would replay in my mind for months.
“Daniel told me about the rehearsal. I mentioned it to Graham. I didn't know what he was planning.”
I stared at her.
“What was he planning?”
“I don't know.”
“Olivia.”
She stepped backward.
“I thought he only wanted you frightened enough to stop asking questions about Mercer.”
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
“You knew he intended to threaten me?”
She started crying.
“I never thought anyone would get hurt.”
I reached for the paper.
Olivia pulled it away.
“There's something else.”
“Give it to me.”
“Promise you won't tell Daniel I came here.”
“No.”
“Rachel, please.”
A security officer approached.
“Ma'am, is everything okay?”
Olivia quickly put the paper back into her pocket.
“Yes,” she said. “I was just leaving.”
I moved to block her path.
“Olivia, if you know something about the fire, tell the police.”
She looked at me with a strange mixture of terror and resentment.
“You don't understand. Graham has proof that could destroy Daniel.”
“Proof of what?”
She opened her mouth.
Then her phone vibrated.
She read the screen.
Every trace of color disappeared from her face.
She turned the phone toward me.
The message contained a photograph of Daniel standing outside the hospital.
Beneath it were six words.
Tell Rachel, and he goes first.
Olivia grabbed my wrist.
“He knows I'm here.”
Before I could respond, the hospital's emergency entrance erupted in shouting.
A man had collapsed beside a parked delivery van.
Security officers rushed toward him.
Olivia looked toward the doors.
Then she whispered, “That's Eric.”
I followed her gaze.
A man in a maintenance jacket lay on the pavement, barely conscious.
Eric Bell.
The missing technician.
As paramedics rushed him inside, he caught sight of me.
His lips moved.
I leaned close.
“What?”
He grabbed my sleeve with surprising strength.
“Your report,” he rasped.
I bent lower.
“What about it?”
His eyes widened.
“Rachel... the fire wasn't supposed to start while the children were there.”
May you like
Then he lost consciousness.
And Olivia Reed disappeared through the crowd.
