Chapter 2 - Claire Returned From the Dead With a Gun in Her Hand and Told Vincent the Marriage Was Never Supposed to Become Real
Vincent stared at her.
For three years, he had thought he knew every detail of Claire's life.
Her birthday.
Her favorite food.
The name of her childhood school.
The little bakery where she had worked before their marriage.
Her father's supposed illness.
Her financial struggles.
Her mother's death.
Everything.
Now he realized none of it could be trusted.
Claire stood twenty feet away.
Gun in her hand.
Blood on her sleeve.
Rainwater dripping from her hair.
“Put the gun down,” Vincent said.
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Claire.”
“You shouldn't have come.”
“You left coordinates.”
“I needed you to come alone.”
“You know I don't do alone.”
A bitter smile crossed her face.
“I remember.”
Vincent stepped forward.
Her gun rose.
“Stop.”
He stopped.
“I won't hurt you.”
“You say that now.”
“I have never hurt you.”
“You've hurt me every day.”
The words landed.
Vincent's face changed.
“How?”
She laughed softly.
“By making me believe you didn't care.”
“I did care.”
“No.”
“I did.”
“Then why did you never ask?”
“Ask what?”
“Why I was afraid.”
Vincent stared.
“I thought you were afraid of me.”
“I was afraid of everyone.”
She lowered the gun slightly.
“Especially your family.”
Gabriel stepped forward.
Claire's weapon turned toward him.
“Don't.”
Gabriel froze.
Vincent raised a hand.
“She's not your enemy.”
Claire looked at him.
“You still defend people before knowing whether they're guilty.”
Vincent stared.
“I learned that from you.”
She looked away.
Then he asked:
“Who are you?”
Claire swallowed.
“My name is Claire.”
“But?”
“Claire Evelyn Bell.”
Vincent froze.
“Daniel Bell's daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Daniel is dead.”
“I know.”
“He was my father's prosecutor.”
“Yes.”
“He nearly destroyed my family.”
Claire shook her head.
“He was trying to save people.”
“From my father?”
“Yes.”
“And you married me to investigate?”
“Yes.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“When?”
“Before I met you.”
He stared.
“Who knew?”
“My father.”
“Your father is dead.”
“He's not.”
Silence.
Gabriel looked stunned.
Claire continued.
“Daniel survived the crash.”
Vincent stared at her.
“He has been living under another name.”
“Where?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“What does that mean?”
“He disappeared two years ago.”
“And you thought I killed him.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I thought you knew where he was.”
Vincent took a breath.
“And the marriage?”
Claire lowered the gun.
“My father asked me to get close to you.”
Vincent looked away.
“Three years.”
“Yes.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Everything?”
“No.”
“What was real?”
She looked directly at him.
“My feelings.”
He froze.
“You loved me?”
She nodded.
“That was the one thing I wasn't supposed to do.”
Vincent couldn't speak.
Claire continued.
“I was supposed to marry you, gather information, and leave.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because you weren't what they said you were.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
Vincent frowned.
“He told you I was dangerous.”
“He told me your family destroyed ours.”
“And?”
“I believed him.”
“Then you changed your mind.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The night you came home after your father died.”
Vincent remembered.
He had been devastated.
Claire had found him in the library.
She had sat beside him without speaking.
He had fallen asleep with his head against her shoulder.
She had stayed all night.
“You cried,” she whispered.
Vincent looked at her.
“I didn't know you heard.”
“I did.”
She wiped her eyes.
“That was when I knew you weren't the man my father warned me about.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“What happened tonight?”
Claire looked toward the warehouse doors.
“Someone wanted me dead.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Who shot you?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why disappear?”
She looked at him.
“Because the bullet wasn't meant to kill me.”
Vincent froze.
“What?”
“It was meant to make you think I was dead.”
“What?”
She pulled a small device from her pocket.
“The sniper used a signal round.”
Vincent didn't understand.
Claire continued:
“They needed you to believe I died in the chaos.”
“Why?”
“So you'd stop looking for me.”
“And why did they want that?”
“Because someone knows I found the files.”
“What files?”
“The original Rourke records.”
Vincent's blood chilled.
“The ones my father destroyed?”
Claire nodded.
“He didn't destroy them.”
“Where are they?”
She looked at him.
“Inside your house.”
Silence.
Vincent's mind raced.
“My house?”
“Yes.”
“For three years I've lived there.”
“I know.”
“And you had access.”
“Yes.”
“You could have taken them.”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
“I couldn't find them.”
“Why?”
“Because your father hid them somewhere nobody would look.”
Vincent stared.
“Where?”
Claire stepped closer.
“Inside your marriage.”
He frowned.
“What does that mean?”
She reached into her bag.
Pulled out a small black book.
Vincent opened it.
The pages contained his own handwriting.
Dates.
Locations.
Private conversations.
Three years of his life.
He looked at Claire.
“You kept records.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To protect myself.”
He turned another page.
There were notes about every time she had been alone with his family.
Every conversation with Margaret.
Every business meeting.
Every unexplained visit.
Then one entry stopped him.
Margaret knows where the records are.
He looked up.
“My mother?”
Claire nodded.
“Your mother knows everything.”
Vincent's voice became cold.
“What did she tell you?”
“She told me your father didn't die naturally.”
He stared.
“What?”
“Your father was murdered.”
Vincent stepped backward.
“By whom?”
Claire shook her head.
“We don't know.”
Then the warehouse lights flickered.
A gunshot hit the wall.
Claire tackled Vincent.
They fell together.
More shots.
Gabriel returned fire.
Men stormed the warehouse.
The gunmen scattered.
Claire pulled Vincent toward the rear exit.
“Come on!”
He followed.
“Where are we going?”
“To your mother's house.”
“My mother doesn't have a house.”
“She does.”
Claire looked at him.
May you like
“And she has been waiting for you.”
---
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