Chapter 3 - The Woman in the Hospital Photograph
The hospital photograph consumed Claire's thoughts.
She stared at it for hours.
The image showed her leaving Allegheny General Hospital.
Her hair was shorter.
Her coat was different.
She remembered the day clearly.
She had gone there because of a migraine.
That was all.
At least that's what she remembered.
But the photograph showed Graham standing thirty feet away.
His expression was tense.
Beside him stood an elderly woman Claire did not recognize.
At the bottom of the photo was a timestamp.
3:17 a.m.
Claire had gone to the hospital at 10:00 p.m.
Why had Graham been there at three in the morning?
She called him using the secure phone he had delivered.
He answered immediately.
“Are you safe?”
“I think so.”
“What happened?”
“I found another photograph.”
Silence.
“What photograph?”
She described it.
Graham did not speak for several seconds.
Then:
“I was hoping you'd never find that.”
Claire's heart tightened.
“Why?”
“Because it changes what happened eleven months ago.”
She sat down.
“Tell me.”
“You were followed to the hospital.”
“By whom?”
“Three men.”
“Why?”
“They thought you had evidence.”
“But I didn't.”
“You did.”
Claire frowned.
“I didn't know.”
“You had a flash drive.”
She stared.
“I don't remember.”
Graham's voice softened.
“That's because you hit your head.”
“What?”
“You were attacked.”
Silence.
Claire closed her eyes.
Fragments surfaced.
A dark parking garage.
Rain.
A hand on her shoulder.
A flash of white.
Then nothing.
“My memory…”
“Yes.”
“I forgot?”
“You suffered a concussion.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Because your father told the doctors you were not to be contacted.”
Claire opened her eyes.
“My father?”
Graham said nothing.
Her breathing changed.
“My father was alive eleven months ago.”
“Yes.”
“And he knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he hide an attack from me?”
Graham answered quietly.
“Because your father was connected to mine.”
Claire felt as though the floor had disappeared.
“No.”
“He wasn't a criminal.”
“I didn't say he was.”
“He was a bank manager.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because the bank handled Mercer Foundry accounts.”
Claire stood.
“You're telling me my father knew about your father's operation?”
“I think he knew part of it.”
“Did he sell information?”
“No.”
“He didn't.”
“I don't think he did.”
“Then what?”
“He tried to expose it.”
Claire froze.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
Graham took a breath.
“He was supposed to meet an investigator the week after your hospital visit.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
Claire's voice broke.
“What happened?”
“He died.”
She closed her eyes.
Her father had died suddenly ten months ago.
Heart attack.
That was the official explanation.
She had believed it.
She had mourned him.
She had blamed herself for not answering his final call.
Now she whispered:
“Was it really a heart attack?”
Graham didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Claire sank into her chair.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I had no proof.”
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“You knew enough to watch me.”
“Yes.”
She stared through the window.
Traffic moved below.
The city looked normal.
That felt offensive.
“What exactly happened that night?”
Graham told her.
Claire had left work at 10:40 p.m.
Her father had called.
She'd missed it.
She'd gone to the hospital for the migraine.
Three men followed her.
Graham's security team had been monitoring them.
One attacked her in the parking garage.
Graham arrived seconds later.
He fought them.
Two escaped.
One was captured.
That man later died in custody.
Claire remembered none of this.
“What did you do after?”
“I asked the hospital to protect you.”
“Then?”
“I erased the connection to me.”
“Why?”
“Because my father was searching for whoever had saved you.”
She whispered:
“And you let me believe you were just another corporate executive.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you hire my firm?”
Graham's voice changed.
“Because I wanted you close enough to protect.”
Claire's heart pounded.
“And far enough away that you couldn't get hurt.”
“Yes.”
She laughed sadly.
“You thought you could decide all that for me.”
“I know.”
“Graham.”
“Yes?”
“You're an arrogant man.”
“I know.”
“You're controlling.”
“I know.”
“You are terrible at communication.”
“I've been told.”
Claire almost smiled.
Then she asked:
“Do you love me?”
Silence.
The longest silence yet.
Then:
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled.
Graham continued.
“I have for eleven months.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“What happened eleven months ago?”
“You walked into a boardroom and accused my company of hiding money.”
“I remember.”
“I watched you fight with twelve executives twice your age.”
She smiled faintly.
“You liked that?”
“I couldn't stop.”
“You could have said something.”
“I was afraid.”
She opened her eyes.
“Of what?”
“Of needing someone.”
Claire's breath caught.
“So what now?”
“I want to protect you.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Graham went quiet.
“I don't need a protector.”
“I know.”
“I need a partner.”
Silence.
“I don't know how to be one.”
“Then learn.”
For the first time, Claire saw something like hope in his eyes.
That evening, she returned to her firm's office.
Jonathan Cross was waiting.
He stood beside her desk holding two coffees.
“You disappeared this morning.”
Claire forced a smile.
“I had a rough night.”
“Graham Mercer?”
She watched him carefully.
“Why?”
“He came by.”
“He did?”
Jonathan nodded.
“Asked questions about the audit.”
Claire took the coffee.
“What questions?”
“Who has access to your files.”
Her pulse jumped.
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth.”
“What was that?”
Jonathan smiled.
“Me.”
Claire looked at him.
“Anyone else?”
He paused.
“The IT administrator.”
She nodded.
“Right.”
Jonathan watched her.
“You look tired.”
“I am.”
“You should take a few days off.”
“Maybe.”
He touched her shoulder.
Claire stepped away.
He noticed.
“Sorry.”
“No problem.”
He left.
Claire waited.
Then she checked the security ledger.
M. CROSS.
She looked at the date beside it.
Exactly eleven months earlier.
Jonathan had joined her firm twelve months ago.
One month before her attack.
That night, Claire found something hidden in her desk drawer.
A second USB drive.
She did not touch it.
She called Graham.
“Come to the office.”
“How quickly?”
“Now.”
“I'll be there in six minutes.”
He arrived in five.
Claire showed him the drive.
He studied it.
Then looked at her.
“This is bait.”
“How do you know?”
“Because they wanted you to find it.”
Claire swallowed.
“Then what do we do?”
Graham smiled without humor.
“For once?”
May you like
“What?”
“We let them think their plan worked.”
