Chapter 2 - WHAT THE CAR HEARD
I put in my earbuds.
Mason’s voice filled my head.
The dashboard camera showed him driving through rain toward Lookout Mountain.
The passenger was a blonde woman I recognized.
Lauren Pike.
Twenty-eight.
Marketing coordinator at Mason’s former firm.
I had met her twice.
Once at Christmas.
Once at a company charity dinner where she had hugged me and told me she loved my novels.
Now her hand rested on my husband’s thigh.
Lauren laughed.
“You keep talking like Audrey’s already dead.”
Mason smirked.
“She doesn’t have to be dead yet.”
My fingers froze over the screen.
Lauren looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“You worry too much.”
“I’m carrying your baby, Mason. I have a right to worry.”
He took one hand off the wheel.
“Relax.”
Then he said something so calmly that I replayed it three times.
“Accidents happen every day.”
Lauren’s smile disappeared.
Mason continued.
“She drives too fast. She works late. She travels constantly. One bad night on a mountain road and everybody calls it tragic.”
Lauren stared at him.
“You’re serious.”
“I’ve already increased the life insurance.”
My heart started hammering.
“And your mom knows?” Lauren asked.
Mason gave a short laugh.
“Mom knows Audrey is worth more dead than divorced.”
I stood so abruptly that the plastic chair scraped across the floor.
A nurse glanced toward me.
I walked outside.
The rain had weakened to a cold drizzle.
I called Elliot Nash.
Elliot and I had attended Northwestern together before taking very different paths. I became a novelist. He became a Denver attorney specializing in high-asset divorces and financial litigation.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Audrey?”
“Mason crashed my Porsche.”
Silence.
“With someone else.”
Longer silence.
“She’s pregnant.”
“Audrey…”
“There’s more.”
I sent him the video.
He called back six minutes later.
His voice was completely awake now.
“Do not delete anything.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Download copies. Preserve the original cloud files. Email a copy to me. Then send one to secure storage.”
“You heard what he said?”
“Yes.”
“He was talking about killing me.”
“Yes.”
“And Diane knew something.”
“Maybe. Don’t assume more than the recording proves.”
That was why I trusted Elliot.
He never let anger become evidence.
“You need the police,” he said.
“I know.”
“And Audrey?”
“Yes?”
“Do not confront his family alone.”
I looked through the hospital window.
“I don’t have to.”
Because at that moment my home security app sent another alert.
Front door opened.
I tapped it.
Diane and Brooke entered my condo.
At 4:37 in the morning.
They had used Mason’s emergency key.
Brooke carried two empty shopping bags.
Diane carried a folder.
For several seconds I simply watched them.
Then Brooke walked directly into my bedroom.
She opened my closet.
“Oh my God.”
Diane hurried in.
Brooke pulled down a designer handbag.
“I’ve always wanted this.”
“Take it.”
My jaw tightened.
Diane opened drawers.
“Find the jewelry.”
“What about Audrey’s safe?”
“We’ll get someone to open it.”
They still believed I was dying.
Maybe already dead.
Brooke held one of my coats against herself in the mirror.
“Do you think Mason will let me have the Porsche insurance money?”
Diane snorted.
“Mason will do what I tell him.”
Then she opened my desk.
She began searching for financial documents.
I recorded everything.
Not only through the cloud system.
I screen-recorded the live feed on my phone.
Then I called Denver police.
I did not frighten them with flashing lights.
I did not lock them inside.
I did not play games.
I simply reported two people inside my home without permission, taking property while believing the owner was hospitalized.
Officers arrived eleven minutes later.
The camera captured Brooke’s face when she opened my front door and found two police officers standing there.
Diane tried explaining that they were family.
One officer asked, “Does Audrey Whitmore know you’re here?”
Diane hesitated.
“She’s been in an accident.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Brooke slowly returned the handbag.
The police contacted me.
I told them clearly that neither woman had permission to enter.
They were escorted out.
Some of the property was photographed as evidence.
I chose not to pursue immediate charges that morning because Elliot advised preserving our options until we understood the bigger picture.
At 6:18, the trauma surgeon found me.
His expression told me the answer before he spoke.
“We lost your husband.”
I said nothing.
“We performed emergency surgery. His injuries were catastrophic. I’m sorry.”
I looked through the glass doors at the pale morning sky.
For four years Mason had slept beside me.
He had kissed me before book tours.
He had held my hand at my grandmother’s funeral.
And sometime between those ordinary moments, he had begun calculating the financial value of my death.
“What about Lauren?”
“Alive. Still critical.”
I nodded.
Then another question entered my mind.
“Has anyone notified his parents?”
“We’re trying.”
I almost laughed.
They had already been notified.
They simply thought the wrong person had died.
At 7:04 a.m., Diane texted me.
Not knowing I could read it.
Not knowing I was alive.
Not knowing her son was dead.
Her message consisted of five words:
I hope they don’t revive her.
I showed Elliot.
He called immediately.
“Save that.”
“I already did.”
“Audrey, listen carefully. Mason is dead. That doesn’t erase what he planned.”
“I know.”
“His family is going to discover the truth soon.”
I looked toward the elevator.
The doors opened.
Diane, Russell, and Brooke stepped into the corridor.
Diane was smiling.
Brooke was carrying an empty tote bag.
May you like
Then she saw me.
And screamed.
