Chapter 12: The Last Copy
By the time we got back to Ruth’s house, the daylight had gone thin and gray. I kept seeing the empty drawer whenever I blinked—not Daniel’s face in the camera, but the pale outline where my things had been.
Mara sat at Ruth’s kitchen table with her hands wrapped around a mug she hadn’t touched. Detective Reyes stood beside her, listening. The red folder lay near my elbow. I’d kept it close enough to reach without looking.
“I should’ve told you sooner,” Mara said. “I made a backup of the reconciliation files on a company laptop. The one I used when I was still working there.”
Reyes didn’t sit. “Where is it now?”
“I don’t know. Daniel reported it missing.”
The room seemed to tighten around us.
Mara looked down at her untouched coffee. “The paper notes I brought are mine. They’re real. But the backup had the full working file—the entries behind the summaries. The thing that could’ve helped explain the gaps.”
“So now we have a ledger that doesn’t quite add up,” I said, “and the records that might explain it are gone.”
“For now,” Reyes said. Her voice was steady, not soft. “Missing isn’t the same as destroyed. But we can’t treat a file we haven’t recovered as proof.”
Mara flinched as if I’d blamed her. I wished I could take the sharpness out of my words. I couldn’t take the fear out of them.
My phone rang before I found anything else to say. Ruth glanced at the screen.
“The lender,” she said.
I answered and put the call on speaker. A woman introduced herself, confirmed my name, then explained that the review of Daniel’s application was paused. They had received additional material from him, including a notarized statement asserting that I had authorized the use of my property.
I stared at the table’s scratched surface.
“What does the statement say I agreed to?” I asked.
“I can’t interpret it for you,” the woman replied. “I can tell you it has been added to the file. Your submitted documents are still under review.”
“I don’t recognize that statement.”
“I’ve noted your response.”
The call ended without an answer. The quiet afterward felt worse than a refusal. Daniel had found another way to put his version of me on paper and make strangers weigh it against my own.
Then his name appeared on my phone.
Ruth saw it. “You don’t have to answer.”
I did anyway. Reyes lifted one finger, a reminder to keep the call on speaker. I tapped the screen.
“Claire,” Daniel said. He sounded worn down, almost gentle. “I’m glad you picked up.”
“What do you want?”
“To stop this from getting uglier.” He paused, as if giving me time to appreciate his restraint. “We can settle it. You withdraw your account of what happened with the company, and you let me keep the house. No more filings, no more calls, no more dragging my mother into it.”
His offer came dressed as a favor. I could hear the old bargain underneath: give up what’s yours, and I’ll stop hurting you.
“You don’t get to offer me my own house,” I said.
A short, humorless breath came through the speaker.
“You want to make this impossible.”
“You did that when you used my name.”
“I’m giving you a way out.”
“No. You’re asking me to disappear so you can keep what you took.”
The softness fell out of his voice. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
I looked at my bandaged wrist. The ache had been dulling day by day, but his voice still knew exactly where to press.
“I know I’m not withdrawing anything.”
I ended the call.
For a moment, nobody moved. Then my phone shuddered against the table.
A security alert filled the screen: BACK ENTRANCE—FORCED ENTRY DETECTED.
The house.
I stood so fast the chair legs scraped the floor. The old smart-home administrator had been changed; I’d seen the record of it. But the security alert was still coming through on the camera account I’d kept. A second notification appeared, then a third.
Ruth was already reaching for her phone.
“Don’t go,” Reyes said. “Claire, stay here.”
“I’m not going there.”
My voice sounded strange—thin, but not broken. I opened the app. The camera feed showed the back patio in a wash of infrared gray. The door shuddered in its frame. The timestamp in the corner ticked forward.
Reyes spoke into her phone, giving the address and requesting officers. Ruth moved closer, not touching me, her own screen glowing in her hand.
I found the emergency control and pressed it.
The house alarm began to howl through the app’s tiny speaker. I turned the volume up, then watched the camera feed as the back entrance went still.
For two seconds, nothing moved.
Then a figure stepped into view.
May you like
Daniel.
He held a crowbar low at his side. He looked up at the camera, directly into its lens, and lifted the tool.
