Chapter 7 - Daniel Begged Me to Believe HimDaniel called me from jail.
I almost refused.
Michael said I should listen.
“People talk when they’re scared.”
Daniel was terrified.
The moment I accepted the call, he said, “Claire, I didn’t kill Keller.”
Not hello.
Not I’m sorry.
Not how are you.
“I didn’t ask.”
“They’re saying I paid him.”
“Did you?”
Silence.
“Daniel?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“What for?”
“Medication.”
“For Sophie?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why?”
“I thought he could help.”
“With what?”
“He developed experimental formulations.”
“You gave our daughter experimental drugs without telling her oncologist?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It was exactly like that.”
“No.”
His breathing became ragged.
“I was trying to help her.”
“A bottle with four times the correct concentration?”
Silence.
“You know about that.”
“I know everything.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Then explain.”
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Keller was supposed to formulate a supplemental dose. Something to improve Sophie’s response.”
“That sentence doesn’t even make sense.”
“I was desperate.”
“You weren’t at the hospital.”
“I couldn’t watch her die!”
“She was your daughter!”
“I know!”
For the first time, genuine emotion entered his voice.
I hated that part of me still recognized it.
Daniel cried.
“I loved her.”
“Then why did you call her a problem?”
Silence.
Vanessa had told me the truth.
“Daniel?”
“She told you that?”
“Yes.”
“She’s protecting herself.”
“So are you.”
“You have to listen to me.”
“I’ve listened to you for eleven years.”
“No. You listened to the person my father taught me to be.”
That stopped me.
“What does Charles have to do with Keller?”
Daniel became quiet.
Then:
“Everything.”
I looked at Michael.
He had moved closer.
“Explain.”
“My father introduced me to Keller.”
“When?”
“After Sophie’s diagnosis.”
“Why?”
“He said Keller had connections to experimental treatments.”
“And you believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
“Did you know the dose was wrong?”
“No.”
“Did you know Keller was dead?”
“Not until police came.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
A long pause.
Then Daniel whispered, “But my father might have.”
I sat down.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to believe Charles Mercer is capable of things you never understood.”
“Like stealing my inheritance?”
Silence.
“Like arranging our marriage?”
Another silence.
“You knew.”
“Claire—”
“You knew from the beginning.”
“No.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I knew my father wanted me to meet you.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No. I met you because he pushed me to attend the auction. I fell in love with you afterward.”
I laughed.
It sounded empty.
“You researched me.”
“My brother did.”
“And you used it.”
“Yes.”
At least he finally admitted that.
“Did you marry me for money?”
A long silence.
“At first, it mattered.”
My heart cracked in a new place.
“At first?”
“I did love you.”
“You loved having access to my life.”
“I loved you.”
“You cheated on me for three years.”
“I know.”
“You stole from me.”
“I know.”
“Our daughter died because of medication you obtained from a criminal chemist.”
“I didn’t know it was dangerous.”
“Then what exactly do you want from me?”
His voice broke.
“I want you alive.”
I froze.
Michael looked at me.
“What?”
“Claire, listen carefully. My father has been moving money for months.”
“Your father always moves money.”
“Not like this.”
Daniel whispered.
“He has a contingency plan.”
“For what?”
“If the investigation ever reached Sophie.”
I could hear voices in the background.
A guard.
Doors.
Daniel spoke faster.
“Check the house in Newport.”
“What house?”
“My father owns it through a company called Mariner Holdings.”
Michael began writing.
“What am I looking for?”
“A safe.”
“Where?”
“Basement wine room. Behind the eastern rack.”
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“How do you know about it?”
“My father thinks I’m stupid.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“He took Peter there six months ago. I followed them.”
“And?”
“I heard them talking.”
“About Sophie?”
“No.”
“About you.”
My throat tightened.
“What did they say?”
Daniel lowered his voice.
“My father said if Thomas Bennett’s daughter ever became a liability, he would handle her the same way he handled Thomas.”
I stopped breathing.
Michael’s eyes went cold.
“Daniel.”
“I tried to convince myself I misunderstood.”
“You always do.”
“I know.”
“You let him near Sophie.”
“I know.”
“You let him near me.”
“I know.”
Rage exploded through me.
“You knew your father might have killed mine and you said nothing?”
“I didn’t know!”
“You suspected.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of losing money?”
“Of him.”
I almost hung up.
Then Daniel said, “Claire, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“The night your father died, I saw my father leave his house.”
My grip tightened on the phone.
“What time?”
“Just after midnight.”
Dad collapsed at 1:10.
“You never told me.”
“I told myself Charles was checking on him.”
“Did he have access?”
“My father knew the security code.”
I felt sick.
Daniel continued.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No. Sorry is what you say when you forget an anniversary. You watched my father warn you. You watched our daughter get sick. You slept with Vanessa while Sophie died. And every time the truth came close enough to inconvenience you, you looked away.”
He said nothing.
“That’s what you are, Daniel.”
“What?”
“A man who keeps his hands clean by letting other people do the dirty work.”
The call timer warned us thirty seconds remained.
“Claire.”
I waited.
“I didn’t kill Sophie.”
“Maybe not.”
“I swear.”
“But you failed her.”
He cried quietly.
“So did I.”
I wanted to hate him completely.
It would have been easier.
Instead, I felt something colder.
Finality.
The husband I remembered had never existed.
The call ended.
Michael was already contacting investigators in Rhode Island.
By midnight, federal agents had secured the Newport property.
At 2:18 a.m., Michael called.
“We found the safe.”
I sat up.
“And?”
“Cash. Passports. Records.”
“What records?”
“Payments to Keller.”
My heart sank.
“So Daniel did pay him.”
“Yes.”
“That proves—”
“Wait.”
Michael’s voice changed.
“The payments didn’t come from Daniel.”
“Who?”
“Charles.”
My breath caught.
“And there’s more.”
A second ledger documented transfers to a private nurse who had cared for my father during his final week.
I pressed a hand to my mouth.
Then Michael told me the amount.
Two hundred fifty thousand dollars.
Paid three days after Dad died.
“What does that mean?”
“We need to question the nurse.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“We found her.”
“Where?”
Michael hesitated.
“Arizona.”
“Get her.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“She already contacted us.”
I stared into the dark room.
“Why?”
“Because she heard about Sophie.”
May you like
A pause.
“And she says she knows how your father really died.”
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