Chapter 3: The Night the Road Was Wet
Ethan stared at the message for a long time without moving.
The number had no name attached.
No area code he recognized.
He read the sentence three more times, and each time it landed differently.
*You should ask her where she was the night Eleanor's car went off the road.*
Eleanor's accident had happened on a Tuesday in November, two and a half years ago.
The police report said she had lost control on a wet road at just after ten in the evening.
No other vehicles involved.
No witnesses.
The road curved sharply near the reservoir, and Eleanor's car had gone through the guardrail and down the embankment.
Ethan had never questioned it.
He had been too destroyed to question anything.
He set the phone face-down on the table.
Then he picked it up again and called the number back.
It rang four times.
Then a woman's voice answered, careful and quiet.
"I wasn't sure you'd call."
"Who is this?" Ethan said.
"My name is Dana.
I was Corinne's roommate.
Before she met you." A pause.
"Before she met Eleanor."
Ethan's hand tightened around the phone.
"What does that mean — before she met Eleanor?"
"They knew each other," Dana said.
"Corinne and Eleanor.
Not well.
But Corinne knew who she was.
She knew about your family before she ever introduced herself to you."
The kitchen felt very still.
"How?"
"Corinne worked at the insurance firm that handled Eleanor's life policy.
She processed the paperwork after Eleanor d*ed." Dana's voice dropped.
"Ethan, she saw the payout amount.
She saw Maisie's trust.
She saw everything.
And then three months later she showed up at the fundraiser where you were speaking."
Ethan stood up from the table.
"That fundraiser was private.
You had to be invited."
"I know," Dana said.
"I was the one who got her the invitation.
She told me she'd met someone interesting at a conference.
She never told me it was you until after you were already engaged." A long pause.
"When I figured it out, I asked her directly.
She laughed.
She said she'd earned it."
"Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because I have a daughter," Dana said.
"She's three.
And when I heard what happened with Maisie on that bicycle, I couldn't keep quiet anymore."
Ethan walked to the window.
The street outside was empty.
"The night Eleanor d*ed," he said.
"Where was Corinne?"
The silence on Dana's end lasted long enough that Ethan checked the call was still connected.
"She told me she'd been home all evening," Dana said finally.
"But she came in after midnight.
I heard the door.
I didn't think anything of it at the time." Another pause.
"Her coat was wet.
She said she'd been caught in the rain walking from the car."
"It hadn't rained that night," Ethan said.
"No," Dana said quietly.
"It hadn't."
Ethan stood very still.
Outside, a car passed slowly down the street, its headlights sweeping across the wall.
"I need to ask you something," he said.
"And I need you to think carefully before you answer."
"Okay."
"Is there anything else?
Anything you saw, heard, or kept?
Anything at all?"
Dana was quiet for a moment.
Then: "She left a bag at my apartment once, about six weeks before Eleanor's accident.
She asked me to hold it.
Said it was some work documents she didn't want to lose.
I never opened it." A pause.
"I still have it."
Ethan closed his eyes.
"Don't open it," he said.
"Don't touch it.
I'm going to give you a name.
A detective.
I need you to call him first thing in the morning."
"Is Maisie safe right now?" Dana asked.
"She's asleep upstairs."
"Good." Dana's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Keep her close, Ethan.
Corinne doesn't give up on things she's decided she wants."
The call ended.
Ethan set the phone on the counter and looked at the trust document still spread open on the kitchen table.
Maisie's name at the top.
His own name in the beneficiary clause.
And below that, the secondary beneficiary line — the one that would only activate if Ethan were no longer alive.
Corinne's name.
Printed neatly.
Added by amendment fourteen months ago.
He had signed that amendment himself.
He remembered it clearly now.
Corinne had brought him the paperwork on a Sunday morning and told him the estate lawyer had recommended updating the document.
He had signed without reading it fully because he trusted her.
He pulled out a chair and sat down.
Upstairs, Maisie was asleep with her stuffed rabbit.
And somewhere across the city, Corinne was waiting to find out whether he had looked in the cabinet yet.
His phone buzzed.
A text from Corinne's number.
*Just checking in.
Hope Maisie had a good evening.
Miss you both.*
He read it once.
May you like
Set the phone down.
Did not reply.
