Chapter 7: The Woman in the Booth
I didn't call the number right away.
I sat in my car for ten minutes first.
I read the message four more times.
I checked whether the number was saved anywhere in my phone.
It wasn't.
Then I called it.
It rang once.
**"Thank you for calling back."**
A woman's voice.
Measured.
Not nervous, but careful — the voice of someone who had decided to do something they weren't sure about and was determined to see it through.
**"Who is this?"** I asked.
**"My name is Carol.
I've known Daniel for about six years.
We were — we were close for a while."**
I kept my voice even.
**"What do you want to tell me?"**
**"I want to meet.
Not over the phone."**
**"How do I know this isn't something he set up?"**
**"You don't,"** she said.
**"But I'm the one who texted you.
He doesn't know I have your number."**
**"How do you have my number?"**
**"He keeps a contact book.
Old-fashioned, paper.
Your name is in it.
Your number, your address.
He updated it when he found your daughter."**
I looked through the windshield at the empty street ahead.
**"Where are you?"** I asked.
**"I'm in the coffee shop.
The one you just left."**
I turned around.
Through the window, I could see Daniel still at his table.
And in the back booth — a woman in a grey coat, phone to her ear, watching me.
Our eyes met through the glass.
I got out of the car.
* * *
She was about my age.
Brown hair, careful posture, a coffee she hadn't touched.
She stood when I came in, which told me she was nervous despite the steady voice.
**"Renee,"** she said.
**"Tell me what you came to say."**
She sat.
I sat across from her.
Daniel was three tables away, his back to us, still hadn't moved.
**"Daniel is sick,"** she said.
**"He told you that."**
**"He did."**
**"What he didn't tell you is that he has a life insurance policy.
An old one — from before he disappeared.
And your name is still the beneficiary."**
I looked at her.
**"He never changed it,"** she said.
**"I found out eight months ago.
I saw the documents on his desk and I asked him about it and he said it was complicated, he hadn't gotten around to it."**
**"Eight months ago,"** I said.
**"Two months before he found Maya."**
She nodded slowly.
**"How much?"** I asked.
She told me.
I kept my face still.
**"That's not the part that matters most,"** she said.
**"The policy has a condition.
It was written a long time ago — old language.
It says that in the event of his death, the beneficiary must be contacted within a designated period.
If there's no contact made — if the beneficiary can't be located or doesn't respond — the policy reverts to his estate and goes through probate."**
**"And his estate,"** I said slowly.
**"Who manages that?"**
She looked at me steadily.
**"His business partner,"** she said.
**"The same one who was investigated with him twelve years ago.
They reconciled about five years back.
He's named in the estate documents as executor."**
I sat very still.
**"So if Daniel dies and I haven't been formally contacted—"**
**"The money goes to Thomas,"** she said.
**"Not you.
Not Maya."**
**"And Daniel came back now because—"**
**"Because his doctors told him fourteen months ago that he had maybe two years.
He came back because the clock was running."** Her voice stayed level, but something in it tightened.
**"I'm not saying he doesn't care about Maya.
I think he does, genuinely.
But I think he came back with more than one reason.
And you deserved to know that."**
I looked at the table between us.
Behind me, I heard a chair scrape.
I didn't turn around.
But Carol's eyes moved over my shoulder and her expression changed.
**"He's standing up,"** she said quietly.
**"I know,"** I said.
Daniel's voice came from directly behind me.
**"Carol."**
It wasn't a greeting.
She looked at him without flinching.
**"She deserved to know,"** she said.
A long silence.
Then he sat down in the empty chair beside me — not across from me, beside me, like he was trying to close a triangle before it became something else.
**"Renee—"**
**"Don't,"** I said.
**"Not yet."**
I picked up my coffee and took one slow sip.
May you like
Then I set it down, turned to face him, and said, **"Tell me about Thomas."**
And the colour left his face.
