Chapter 7 - The Parking Garage
Ethan did not tell Natalie everything immediately.
He told her police had found Allison’s car.
He did not mention the blood until Dr. Shah came in and confirmed Natalie would remain overnight for observation.
Then he told her.
Natalie looked horrified.
“She could be hurt.”
“She could also be running.”
“She’s my sister.”
“I know.”
“You hate her.”
“At this moment? Yes.”
Natalie’s eyes flashed.
“That does not mean I want her dead.”
“Neither do I.”
It was the first thing they had agreed on without pain since the announcement.
Sergeant Moreno met Ethan near the hospital entrance.
He was compact, gray-haired, and direct.
“The blood appears limited. Could be a cut hand, nosebleed, anything.”
“Was there a struggle?”
“Not obviously.”
“Cameras?”
“We’re pulling them.”
Moreno studied him.
“Your sister-in-law is currently a person we want to speak with about suspected financial fraud. She is not a kidnapping victim until evidence says she is.”
Ethan nodded.
At Logan, security footage told a stranger story.
Allison parked at 3:12 p.m.
She sat in the vehicle for six minutes.
Then a man approached.
Tall.
Dark jacket.
Baseball cap.
Allison got out willingly.
They argued.
He grabbed her wrist.
She slapped him.
He shoved her against the car.
She struck her mouth on the door frame.
Blood.
Then he took her phone.
She got into the passenger seat of his SUV voluntarily.
Moreno froze the image.
“Know him?”
Ethan leaned closer.
Something about the man looked familiar.
“No.”
Then the man turned slightly toward the camera.
Ethan’s stomach tightened.
He had seen that face at family dinners.
Christmas twice.
Natalie’s birthday three years earlier.
“Nolan Pierce.”
“Who?”
“Allison’s ex-boyfriend.”
“Occupation?”
“Financial adviser. Or he was.”
Moreno typed the name.
His eyebrows rose.
“License revoked eighteen months ago.”
“For what?”
“Misappropriation of client funds.”
Ethan stared at the screen.
That connected too neatly.
AG Consulting.
Insurance beneficiary changes.
Retirement withdrawal.
A former financial adviser with a revoked license.
Moreno said, “Do you know if they’re together?”
“Allison told us they broke up last year.”
“Maybe they didn’t.”
Ethan’s phone buzzed.
Natalie.
He answered.
Her voice was shaking.
“Ethan, somebody was in our apartment.”
“What?”
“The building manager called. Our front door was open.”
“Are police there?”
“Yes.”
“What’s missing?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stay at the hospital.”
“I am.”
A pause.
Then she said, “Ethan?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a safe in our bedroom closet.”
“I know.”
“No. Not the fire safe.”
He stopped.
“What other safe?”
Natalie lowered her voice.
“The one Allison told me to buy after the biopsy.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“What’s inside it?”
“My passport. Social Security card. Birth certificate. Insurance policies.”
Moreno heard enough to understand.
He was already moving.
At the apartment, the hidden safe was gone.
So was Natalie’s old laptop.
But on the bedroom floor, investigators found something Allison and Nolan had left behind.
A black plastic folder.
Inside were photocopies of eight airline employees’ identification documents.
And six of them were already dead.
— — —
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