Chapter 4 - THE MAN WITH THE HOUSE KEY
I was in my office when Calvin Rourke entered.
He didn't know I was home.
I heard footsteps in the hallway.
Then the quiet opening of a drawer.
I remained still.
Through the partially open office door, I watched him move toward Teresa's study.
He placed the briefcase on her desk.
Opened it.
Removed a folder.
Then took photographs of several documents.
I reached for my phone.
Called Daniel.
“Rourke is inside my house.”
Daniel's voice sharpened.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Don't confront him.”
I looked toward the hallway.
“He has a key.”
“Call the police.”
I hesitated.
The old version of me would have handled this privately.
But the old version of me had helped create the situation I was in.
So I called.
Two patrol officers arrived eleven minutes later.
Rourke was still inside.
He emerged from Teresa's study wearing an expression of mild irritation.
“Dominic,” he said.
I stood beside the officers.
“Calvin.”
He smiled.
“Your wife invited me.”
“She's not here.”
He glanced at the officers.
“This is a misunderstanding.”
I looked at him.
“Then explain why you're photographing documents in my home.”
His smile faded.
The officers separated us.
Rourke claimed Teresa had authorized him to retrieve materials for a business transaction.
I explained that I had not approved any such transaction.
The officers documented the incident.
Rourke left after being warned not to return without clear authorization.
No dramatic arrest.
No gunfire.
No threats.
Just a report number.
I had never been so grateful for something ordinary.
When Teresa returned at nine thirty, I was sitting at the kitchen table.
She stopped.
“Where's Chloe?”
“At my mother's.”
That was true.
I'd arranged for Chloe to spend the night with my mother, Rosa Salazar, who lived twenty minutes away.
Teresa's face tightened.
“Why?”
“Because we need to talk.”
She set down her purse.
“About what?”
“Calvin Rourke.”
Her expression didn't change.
But her fingers tightened around the strap.
“What about him?”
“He was here.”
She blinked.
“Here?”
“In our house.”
Teresa looked toward the hallway.
Then back at me.
“Oh.”
I waited.
She swallowed.
“He was picking up some documents.”
“Why does he have a key?”
Silence.
“Teresa.”
She looked down.
“I gave it to him.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because he's helping with the company.”
I laughed once.
A cold, humorless sound.
“My company?”
She flinched.
“Dominic, you need to calm down.”
“No. You need to explain.”
Her eyes filled.
“I've been trying to protect us.”
“From what?”
She looked away.
“From you.”
The words hung between us.
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
Teresa began crying.
“You've changed.”
I said nothing.
“You come home angry. You disappear for meetings. You don't tell me where the money comes from.”
I felt the accusation land.
Some of it was true.
Not all of it.
But enough.
She continued.
“I was afraid something would happen to you.”
“So you arranged to take my company?”
She shook her head.
“That's not what happened.”
“Then what happened?”
She covered her face.
“I made a mistake.”
I waited.
She looked up.
“A terrible mistake.”
Before she could continue, her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen.
Her face drained of color.
I saw the name.
MARTIN.
She rejected the call.
It rang again.
Then a message appeared.
HE KNOWS. MOVE THE DATE.
I looked at her.
“Move what date?”
Teresa began shaking.
And suddenly I understood.
May you like
Whatever she had planned for Friday—
Someone wanted it to happen sooner.
