“Only a small circle knew last night.”
The meaning settled between them.
Someone close to Claire had leaked her movements.
Michael handed the folder back.
“That’s a problem for the police.”
“It is.”
“And your security people.”
“Yes.”
“Not me.”
Daniel closed the folder.
“No.
Not you.”
But he did not leave immediately.
He reached into his coat and produced a plain business card.
No handwritten number.
No dramatic offer.
Just a name and a direct line.
“If anything from last night feels wrong to you later, call me.”
Michael took the card only because refusing it would prolong the conversation.
Daniel walked toward the sedan.
Before he reached it, Michael spoke.
“Mr.
Mercer.”
Daniel turned.
“Your daughter didn’t look surprised when that first man called her by name.”
Daniel’s face changed.
“She didn’t tell the police they knew her name.”
“Maybe she didn’t realize it mattered.”
“It matters.”
Michael nodded.
“Then ask her who else knew where she planned to be.”
Daniel stared at him for another second, then entered the sedan.
The car disappeared down the street.
Michael went back inside, packed Emily’s lunch, and tried to return to the ordinary life he had fought so hard to build.
It lasted until 11:17 that morning.
He was carrying a stack of lumber across the construction site when his phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
Michael nearly ignored it.
Then he remembered Daniel’s face when he mentioned Claire’s name.
He answered.
“Ward.”
Claire’s voice came through, thinner than it had sounded in the alley.
“Mr.
Ward? This is Claire Mercer.”
Michael set the lumber down.
“Are you safe?”
There was a pause.
“Yes.
I think so.”
Those last three words bothered him.
“Where’s your father?”
“With detectives.
I asked one of his assistants for your number.”
“Why?”
Claire lowered her voice.
“Because I remembered something.”
