Chapter 3: The Woman At The Door
By midnight, Abigail was asleep.
At least, she looked asleep.
Her fingers were still wrapped around the edge of my uniform jacket.
I sat beside her hospital bed and watched the city lights flicker through the window.
I had spent thirty-two years learning how to recognize threats.
Sometimes they came wearing uniforms.
Sometimes they carried weapons.
Sometimes they arrived smiling.
The Fergusons smiled beautifully.
That bothered me more than anything.
At 12:17 a.m., I received another message.
*Unknown Number:*
*You were warned. Take your daughter home.*
A second message followed.
*Unknown Number:*
*If she talks, everyone loses.*
I stared at the screen.
Then I typed:
*Who are you?*
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then:
*Ask your daughter what she saw in the Ferguson office.*
I looked at Abigail.
She was awake.
“Mom?””
I walked over.
“Did you tell anyone about the office?””
Her eyes widened.
“No.””
“Are you sure?””
“Yes.””
“Did Nicholas know you found the envelope?””
She shook her head.
“I don't think so.””
“What about Gregory?””
“I don't know.””
I sat beside her.
“Abigail, I need you to trust me.””
“I do.””
“Then tell me everything you remember.””
She stared at the ceiling.
“The envelope was in a locked drawer.””
“Locked?””
“Yes.””
“How did you open it?””
“I didn't.””
She looked at me.
“The drawer was already open.””
“What was inside?””
“Documents.””
“What kind?””
“Bank statements. Contracts. Copies of emails.””
“Anything else?””
She hesitated.
“A photograph.””
“Of what?””
“A woman.””
I frowned.
“Who?””
“I don't know.””
“What did she look like?””
“Dark hair. Maybe early forties.””
I reached for my phone.
“Did you recognize her?””
“No.””
“Did Nicholas?””
“He was terrified when he saw the photograph.””
That was new.
“What did he say?””
Abigail lowered her voice.
“He said, ‘You were never supposed to find her.’”
I felt something shift into place.
“Who was the woman?””
“I don't know.””
“What happened to the photograph?””
“Nicholas took it.””
“And the envelope?””
“I hid it.””
“Where?””
She closed her eyes.
“In the attic.””
I stood.
“Whose attic?””
“The Ferguson house.””
I looked at the clock.
12:31 a.m.
“We're going.””
Abigail stared at me.
“What?””
“We're not leaving you there alone.””
“Mom, no.””
“I didn't say you were coming.””
She looked almost offended.
“You can't go into that house.””
“Why?””
“Because Nicholas has cameras everywhere.””
I paused.
“Then I'll know where they're watching.””
Before she could respond, someone knocked on the door.
Three slow knocks.
Abigail went completely still.
The door opened.
A woman stepped inside.
She was tall, elegantly dressed, and carried a black leather folder.
She had dark hair.
Early forties.
Abigail stopped breathing.
“Mom.””
I looked at the woman.
The woman looked at Abigail.
Then she looked at me.
“Colonel Gardner?””
“Yes.””
“My name is Evelyn Mercer.””
I glanced at the folder.
“Why are you here?””
Evelyn closed the door behind her.
“I need to speak with you before the Fergusons realize I've found your daughter.””
Abigail whispered:
“That's her.””
I turned.
“What?””
“The woman in the photograph.””
Evelyn's expression changed.
She looked at Abigail.
Then back at me.
“They told me you didn't know.””
I stepped closer.
“Know what?””
Evelyn placed the folder on the table.
Inside were photographs, bank records, and several pages covered in highlighted names.
At the top of one document was the Ferguson family crest.
Underneath it was a list of payments.
Abigail leaned forward.
“What's that?””
Evelyn didn't answer her.
She looked only at me.
“Your daughter's husband isn't the person you need to be afraid of.””
My eyes narrowed.
“Then who?””
Evelyn opened the folder to the final page.
I saw my own name.
*COLONEL RACHEL GARDNER.*
Below it were three words:
*OPERATION SILVER HARBOR.*
I stared at the page.
I hadn't heard that operation mentioned in fifteen years.
Nobody outside a very small circle should have known that name.
I looked up.
“Where did you get this?””
Evelyn's voice dropped.
“From the same people who have been watching your daughter.””
“Who?””
She glanced toward the hallway.
Then she said:
“They're already inside this hospital.””
A sound came from outside.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Coming closer.
Evelyn grabbed the folder.
“Colonel, you need to listen to me.””
The door handle began to turn.
Evelyn whispered:
“Because the person walking through that door is the reason your daughter was attacked.””
The door opened.
And a familiar voice said:
“Rachel?””
May you like
I turned.
And the blood drained from my face.
