Chapter 5 - The Women Before Me
Her name was Rachel Donovan.
She had dated Adrian during law school.
Officially, they broke up.
Unofficially, nobody had heard from Rachel in eleven years.
“She moved to Europe,” Maya said.
“According to whom?”
“Adrian.”
Of course.
I opened my laptop.
It was almost three in the morning, but sleep felt impossible.
We searched.
Rachel Donovan. Stanford Law. Adrian Mercer.
Old photographs appeared.
There she was.
Brown hair.
Big smile.
Standing beside Adrian at a charity gala.
He had his arm around her waist.
I recognized the expression on his face.
Possessive pride.
The same expression he wore in our wedding photos.
My stomach turned.
“Did police ever investigate her disappearance?”
“Her family filed a missing-person report in Arizona,” Maya said. “Rachel was twenty-four. Adults can disappear if they want.”
“Especially when a wealthy lawyer’s family says they left voluntarily.”
Maya nodded.
We searched Natalie next.
Her missing-person page was still active.
Last seen: April 17, 2018.
Vehicle recovered at San Francisco International Airport.
Passport missing.
Police believed she may have left the country.
“How convenient,” I muttered.
Maya stared at the screen.
“Adrian’s father had connections everywhere back then.”
I knew Charles had served on boards, donated to political campaigns, represented developers, judges, and police unions.
Money didn’t erase evidence.
But it could make people look the other way.
At 4:12 a.m., my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then breathing.
Slow.
Deliberate.
“Who is this?”
A distorted voice whispered, “You should’ve stayed quiet.”
The call ended.
Maya stared at me.
“What happened?”
I showed her.
She immediately called Detective Reed.
While we waited for him to return the call, my email notification chimed.
One new message.
No sender name.
Subject line:
YOUR HUSBAND IS NOT THE WORST ONE.
My hands went cold.
I opened it.
There was no message.
Only an attachment.
A photograph.
I clicked.
It showed the Mercer vineyard at night.
Taken from behind the house.
In the corner of the frame, Charles stood beside a black SUV.
Two men were carrying something wrapped in a tarp.
Long.
Human-sized.
Timestamp: April 18, 2018.
The morning after Natalie disappeared.
Maya covered her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
I zoomed in.
One of the men carrying the tarp wasn’t Adrian.
It was Daniel.
Maya’s husband.
She backed away from the table.
“No.”
“Maya…”
“No. He told me he was in Sacramento.”
The phone rang again.
This time it was Daniel.
Maya stared at his name.
She answered on speaker.
“Where are you?”
His breathing came fast.
“Maya, listen to me carefully.”
She closed her eyes.
“What did you do?”
“Where are you?”
“Tell me what you did!”
“Maya!”
We both froze.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Charles knows you talked.”
Maya looked at me.
“How?”
“I don’t know. But you need to leave that hotel right now.”
“You know where we are?”
“No.”
A pause.
Then Daniel said something that made my skin crawl.
May you like
“But he does.”
At that exact moment, someone knocked on our hotel door.
