Chapter 2 - THE COAT WITH THE MISSING BUTTON
At 4:22 a.m., Julian Cross walked into St. Anselm wearing a charcoal suit.
No coat.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Julian never traveled without an overcoat between October and April. He was meticulous about his appearance, the kind of man who sent shoes back to Italy if a single stitch was crooked.
Tonight, he arrived bareheaded and breathless.
"Vincent." He gripped my shoulder. "My God. Claire."
I watched his face.
"She's in critical condition."
"Is she conscious?"
"No."
His expression flickered.
"Doctors optimistic?"
"Too early to say."
He lowered himself into the chair beside me.
"Vanessa called. She's hysterical."
"Interesting."
He frowned. "What is?"
"Vanessa seems to know things the doctors haven't told me."
Julian folded his hands.
"She's frightened. People say strange things when they're frightened."
"Do they?"
"Vincent, you need rest."
I turned toward him.
"Where were you between midnight and one?"
His face tightened almost imperceptibly.
"At home."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Your housekeeper says you visited my home around eleven."
Julian blinked.
"I stopped by to deliver documents."
"To Claire?"
"She asked for them."
"What documents?"
"Household accounts."
I leaned forward.
"Claire wasn't responsible for my household accounts."
Julian gave a weary smile.
"She'd become interested in finances lately. You know how she was."
How she was.
He spoke about my wife in the past tense.
A muscle tightened in my jaw.
"She's alive, Julian."
"Of course. I didn't mean—"
"I know exactly what you meant."
He stood.
"You're exhausted. We'll talk tomorrow."
As he turned, I noticed a small pale thread caught beneath his cuff.
Camel-colored.
I watched him leave without another word.
Detective Mara Ellis arrived twenty minutes later.
She was forty-five, with tired eyes and a reputation for refusing favors from powerful men.
We had met twice before.
Neither encounter had been pleasant.
"Mr. Hale."
"Detective."
She glanced through the ICU window.
"Your wife?"
"Still alive."
"Good."
She opened her notebook.
"Tell me what happened."
I told her about the ambulance, the sedative, Vanessa's remark, and Julian's visit.
When I mentioned the button, Ellis interrupted.
"Where is it?"
"With the hospital."
"Leave it there. We'll collect it through evidence procedures."
I nodded.
She looked surprised.
"Something funny?"
"No," she said. "Just not used to you cooperating."
"Neither am I."
At dawn, Theo returned.
"Vanessa's at the Lexington apartment."
"Did she try to leave?"
"Twice."
I looked up sharply.
"Theo, tell me you didn't stop her."
He hesitated.
"Boss—"
"Tell me."
"I stood in front of the door."
I closed my eyes.
"Move your men away. She isn't our prisoner. Tell Detective Ellis where she is."
Theo stared.
"You're letting her walk?"
"I'm letting the police do their job."
He nodded reluctantly.
Then handed me his phone.
"There's something else."
A photograph filled the screen.
Julian Cross outside a twenty-four-hour dry cleaner.
At 2:06 a.m.
Carrying a camel-colored coat.
The timestamp came from a street camera near the shop.
I stared at it.
"Who found this?"
"One of our drivers saw Julian there."
I handed the phone back.
"Give it to Ellis."
Theo looked almost offended.
"Boss, we could handle—"
"No."
My voice came out harder than I intended.
"Somebody attacked my wife. I'm not going to destroy the evidence because my men want revenge."
He studied me.
Then nodded.
"Understood."
At seven, Rachel Porter allowed me five minutes beside Claire.
I sat close enough to hear the ventilator.
"Claire."
Nothing.
I swallowed.
"I don't know whether you can hear me."
Her face remained still.
"But I'm here."
I looked at the bruises on her wrist.
"I know I haven't acted like a husband."
My throat tightened.
"I know about the nights I came home smelling like another woman's perfume. I know about the calls I ignored. I know how many times you waited for me."
I touched the edge of her blanket.
"I'm sorry."
The machines continued their steady rhythm.
Then I noticed something beneath her pillow.
A folded piece of paper.
My heart jumped.
I called Rachel before touching it.
She carefully lifted the pillow and retrieved the note.
On it were six handwritten words.
CHECK THE BLUE FILE. TRUST NO ONE.
I recognized Claire's handwriting.
And I knew immediately what she meant.
The blue file was the one thing I'd forbidden anyone to open.
It contained the records of my father's first shipping company.
May you like
The company that had built our fortune.
The company Julian Cross had been trying to purchase for months.
