Chapter 3 - THE FIRST BLACK BAG
By evening, Emily had been examined at the hospital and released into my care.
The doctors said she needed rest, food, hydration, and time.
More than anything, she needed to feel safe again.
I brought her home with me.
She refused to sleep alone.
I made a bed for her beside mine and left every hallway light turned on.
At 11:18 p.m., Detective Alvarez called.
“We opened the bags.”
I sat upright.
Emily was asleep.
“What was inside?”
“Not what we expected.”
I waited.
“The first bag contained electronic devices.”
“How many?”
“Seven phones, three tablets, two laptops, several external drives.”
“Sarah’s?”
“Some might be.”
“What about the others?”
“We don’t know yet.”
He continued.
“The second bag contained documents.”
“What kind?”
“Bank statements, property records, insurance paperwork, copies of passports.”
I looked toward Emily.
“What was he doing?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
“And the third bag?”
There was a short pause.
“Clothing.”
My heart started pounding.
“Sarah’s?”
“We believe some of it belongs to her.”
“Was there anything else?”
“A purse.”
I stood.
“Her purse?”
“We’re confirming that.”
“What about the fourth bag?”
Alvarez became quiet again.
“Cash.”
I frowned.
“How much?”
“Enough to make us interested.”
That was not the answer I expected.
“How much?”
“Approximately ninety thousand dollars.”
I stared at the dark window.
“Why would Jason throw ninety thousand dollars into a swimming pool?”
“Because he may have been trying to hide it temporarily.”
“Or destroy evidence.”
“Possibly.”
Then Alvarez told me something even stranger.
One of the passports recovered from the second bag had Jason’s photograph.
But the name printed beneath it was not Jason Miller.
It was Daniel Cross.
Another document used the name Aaron Blake.
A third used Michael Reed.
Alvarez had already contacted federal investigators.
“We believe your daughter may have accidentally witnessed something much larger than whatever happened Friday night.”
I thought about the blue folder.
“Emily said Jason was searching for something Sarah had hidden.”
“The blue folder.”
“Yes.”
“We searched the house.”
“And?”
“No folder.”
After the call ended, I walked quietly into the kitchen.
I could not sleep.
I kept thinking about Sarah.
Our marriage had ended badly, but she was still Emily’s mother.
She loved our daughter.
Whatever mistakes Sarah and I had made with each other, I had never doubted that.
At midnight, I opened the last text Sarah had sent me.
It was from five days earlier.
Can Emily stay with you next weekend?
I had replied immediately.
Of course.
Sarah never answered.
I read the message again.
Something about it felt different now.
Why had she suddenly wanted Emily out of the house?
Then I noticed something I had ignored before.
Sarah had sent the message at 2:14 in the morning.
Sarah never stayed awake that late.
Maybe she had already known something was wrong.
Maybe she had been trying to move Emily somewhere safe without explaining why.
I scrolled farther back.
Two weeks earlier, Sarah had sent another message.
Do you still have the little fireproof box from our old apartment?
I had responded.
I think so.
Why?
She never answered that question either.
I walked to the hall closet.
Behind old photo albums and winter coats sat a small gray fireproof box I had not opened in years.
My hands suddenly started shaking.
I carried it into the kitchen.
The original key was still taped beneath it.
I unlocked the lid.
Inside were tax documents, Emily’s old school records, and photographs from before the divorce.
May you like
Then I saw something that absolutely did not belong there.
A blue folder.
