Chapter 6: What Was in the Bag
Callum called at half past four.
"I have the bag," he said.
"You need to come in."
Ethan arranged for Marcus to collect Maisie from school and take her to his house for the evening.
He told Marcus only that there was a work situation he needed to handle and that he would explain everything soon.
Marcus asked no questions, but before the call ended he said quietly, "She called me again this afternoon.
Corinne.
She asked if I'd been talking to anyone."
"What did you tell her?"
"I told her I talk to a lot of people," Marcus said.
"She didn't like that answer."
"Good," Ethan said.
"Keep Maisie close tonight."
He drove to the precinct and was taken through to a back room where Callum was waiting at a table.
The canvas bag sat open on a clean sheet of paper.
Callum had laid the contents out carefully.
A disposable phone, its battery long d*ad.
A folded paper with a set of handwritten notes — dates, times, a name Ethan didn't recognize, and a number that looked like a bank routing code.
A small envelope, sealed.
And a photograph.
Ethan looked at the photograph first.
It showed Eleanor's car.
Not after the accident.
Before.
It was parked in a lot Ethan recognized — the reservoir parking area, less than half a mile from where the guardrail had given way.
The timestamp in the corner of the photo read 9:41 PM.
Eleanor had d*ed just after ten.
"Who took this?" Ethan said.
"We don't know yet.
The photo was printed, not digital.
We're working on the paper stock." Callum pointed to the folded notes.
"The name on this paper — Victor Hale.
Do you know him?"
"No."
"He's a private investigator.
He was d*activated by the state licensing board fourteen months ago for falsifying accident reports." Callum let that sit for a moment.
"The routing number traces to an account that was opened and closed within a six-week window.
The account received one deposit and made one withdrawal.
Both in cash equivalents."
Ethan looked at the sealed envelope.
"What's in that?"
"We haven't opened it yet.
I wanted you here." Callum pulled on a glove and carefully lifted the flap.
He drew out a single folded sheet and opened it on the table.
It was a handwritten letter.
The handwriting was not Corinne's.
It was cramped and uneven, and it began without a greeting.
*If something happens to me, this needs to go to the police.
I was paid to make the road look like an accident.
I didn't know there was someone in the car.
I was told it would be empty.
I'm not saying anything more here but I'll say it in person if someone asks me directly.
— V.H.*
The room was very quiet.
"Victor Hale wrote this," Callum said.
"And then he put it in a bag and gave it to Corinne's roommate to hold."
"Why would he give it to Corinne's roommate?"
"He may not have known whose roommate she was.
Dana's last name is different.
He may have trusted her as a neutral party." Callum folded the letter carefully.
"Or he may have wanted it somewhere Corinne couldn't destroy it."
Ethan sat back in the chair.
"She didn't know the bag was still there," he said.
"She forgot about it.
Or she thought Dana had moved."
"Dana moved twice in two years.
Different borough each time.
Corinne may have lost track of her." Callum looked at him steadily.
"We need to find Victor Hale.
He's not currently reachable at his last known address, but we're looking."
"And if you find him?"
"If he'll talk, this goes from a forged document and a suspicious accident to something much larger." Callum paused.
"Ethan.
I have to ask you directly.
Is there any part of you that isn't ready for where this leads?"
Ethan looked at the photograph of Eleanor's car in the reservoir parking lot at 9:41 PM, twenty minutes before she d*ed on the road below.
"No," he said.
"There isn't."
Callum nodded.
"Go home.
Be with Maisie.
May you like
Don't contact Corinne tonight." He stood.
"And Ethan — change the locks."
