CHAPTER 10 The Third Passenger #2
“Good.”
Kim’s phone vibrated again.
This time she looked at the screen longer.
Then she looked directly at Mason.
“The USB is clean enough to open.”
Everyone froze.
“Now?” he asked.
“Yes.”
My pulse accelerated.
Kim opened a secure laptop brought in by another officer.
We gathered around the dining table.
Noah stood opposite Mason.
Derek beside him.
I remained beside Mason.
Kim inserted the drive through an isolated adapter.
A folder appeared.
Then another.
Hundreds of files.
Photographs.
Screenshots.
Messages.
Mason stopped breathing.
Lily had documented everything.
Evan’s gambling apps.
Bank transfers.
Text conversations with unknown numbers.
Photographs of handwritten debts.
Threats.
One message read:
**You have until Friday.**
Another:
**Your girlfriend won’t save you.**
Another:
**Tell Cole to stop asking questions.**
Mason leaned closer.
“I never asked questions.”
Noah frowned.
“Maybe they meant you.”
“Why?”
Derek pointed at the date.
“This was before Mason knew Evan was gambling.”
“So someone thought he knew.”
Detective Kim opened another folder.
Audio files.
Lily had recorded conversations.
The first was mostly static.
The second contained Evan’s voice.
Angry.
Scared.
Another male voice answered.
Distorted by distance.
Kim raised the volume.
Evan said, “I’ll get the money.”
The other man replied, “You already said that.”
“I need another week.”
“No.”
“You don’t understand.”
“We understand perfectly.”
Then:
“Friday. Or we collect another way.”
The recording ended.
My stomach turned.
Mason’s face had gone rigid.
“Another way.”
Noah looked at him.
“Lily.”
Maybe.
Nobody said it.
Kim opened another audio file.
This one began with Lily whispering.
“If something happens to me, this is why.”
Mason’s hand found mine.
His fingers were ice cold.
Then Lily’s recorded voice continued.
“Evan says I’m paranoid. Maybe I am. But someone followed me home Tuesday. Same black sedan I saw outside the apartment viewing.”
Noah froze.
“She saw the apartment?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Lily continued.
“I haven’t told Mason. I know he’ll lose his mind. Noah knows enough. I think.”
Noah closed his eyes.
Mason stared at the screen.
Then Lily said:
“There’s something else. Evan keeps saying his cousin will fix it.”
Derek leaned closer.
“Cousin?”
Mason frowned.
“I never knew he had one.”
The recording continued.
“I heard them arguing last night. Evan said, ‘You promised nobody would get hurt.’ Then the other person said, ‘Then stop making me clean up your mistakes.’”
The audio ended.
Silence.
Detective Kim looked at the file metadata.
“Recorded three days before the accident.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“Could the cousin have been the third person in the car?” I asked.
Kim nodded.
“Possible.”
Noah stared at the laptop.
“Do we know the cousin’s name?”
Another folder.
CONTACTS.
Evan’s contact list.
Most normal.
Then one entry labeled simply:
**J**
Kim opened the associated messages.
Only fragments remained.
**J: You owe them because you never listen.**
**Evan: Help me one last time.**
**J: That’s what you said last time.**
**Evan: Lily knows.**
Then:
**J: How much?**
**Evan: Everything.**
The next message was sent two days before the accident.
**J: Keep her quiet.**
Mason recoiled.
Noah swore.
Kim continued.
The final message from Evan:
**I won’t hurt her.**
Then a response.
**J: I didn’t ask you to.**
No more messages.
The room felt colder.
“Who is J?” I asked.
No one answered.
Then Derek suddenly went still.
Mason noticed.
“What?”
Derek said nothing.
“Derek.”
He looked at the contact number displayed beside J.
His face changed.
“I know that number.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?” Noah asked.
Derek looked toward Mason.
“Jason Mercer.”
Mason frowned.
“Evan’s cousin?”
“Yes.”
“What does he do?”
Derek didn’t answer immediately.
Then:
“He worked in sports management.”
Noah’s face tightened.
“For who?”
Derek stared at him.
“For your agency.”
Silence.
Noah stepped back.
“What?”
“Years ago.”
Mason’s expression sharpened.
“You knew him?”
Noah shook his head slowly.
“Maybe.”
“What does that mean?”
“There were dozens of agents and assistants.”
Derek pulled out his phone.
He searched.
Then turned the screen toward us.
A photograph.
Jason Mercer.
Mid-thirties.
Brown hair.
Clean-cut.
Normal.
Painfully normal.
My stomach dropped.
I knew him.
“No.”
Everyone turned toward me.
Mason’s face changed instantly.
“What?”
I stared at the photograph.
I had seen him before.
Not recently.
But definitely.
“Emma?”
Mason stepped closer.
“Where do you know him from?”
My throat went dry.
“The gallery.”
Noah frowned.
“What gallery?”
“The one I told you I went to in Portland.”
Mason’s jaw tightened.
“When?”
“Saturday.”
I looked at the photo again.
“He was there.”
Mason went completely still.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“He talked to you?”
I thought back.
Eleven minutes.
The photographer’s work.
People with wine.
A man beside one of the exhibits.
Friendly.
Casual.
He had asked if I was from Seattle.
I had assumed small talk.
“Oh my God.”
“What did he say?” Mason demanded.
“He asked what kind of photography I did.”
“What else?”
“He said he recognized me.”
Noah’s face changed.
“From what?”
“I thought from the internet.”
My blood ran cold.
“He asked whether I was staying in Portland.”
Mason grabbed the back of a chair.
“Emma.”
“I told him no.”
“Did you tell him where you were going?”
“No.”
I stopped.
Maybe.
“He asked if I had plans after.”
Mason’s voice hardened.
“What did you say?”
“I said I was meeting someone.”
Derek swore.
“Did you say Mason?”
“No.”
“Did he follow you?”
“I don’t know.”
The photographs from the game.
The restaurant.
My car at Mason’s house.
Someone had been tracking me.
Detective Kim became all business.
“Describe every part of that conversation.”
I did.
Every detail I could remember.
Jason had been polite.
Interested in photography.
He had mentioned knowing sports people in Seattle.
He had joked about rivalries.
At the time, it meant nothing.
Now it sounded like reconnaissance.
Kim wrote everything down.
Then Mason said, “Where is he?”
Derek looked at the photograph.
“I don’t know.”
Detective Kim gave Mason a warning look.
“You are not going after him.”
“I asked where he is.”
“And I’m telling you now, you stay out of this.”
Mason laughed coldly.
“He has been following Emma.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Mason,” I said.
He looked at me.
“Don’t.”
His jaw tightened.
“No running.”
I held his gaze.
“No stupid decisions.”
For several seconds, I thought he might argue.
Then he exhaled.
“Fine.”
Kim looked between us.
“Good.”
Then her phone buzzed.
Again.
She checked it.
Her face changed.
“What now?” Noah asked.
Kim looked toward me.
“Your building security just reported someone entered your apartment.”
My blood went cold.
“What?”
“Claire?”
I grabbed my phone.
No response.
I called.
Once.
Twice.
Voicemail.
My heart accelerated.
“Claire was supposed to be there.”
Mason’s face drained of color.
Kim was already moving.
“Call dispatch.”
The officer beside her did.
I called Claire again.
Nothing.
“Emma,” Mason said.
I barely heard him.
Another call.
Another voicemail.
Then my phone rang.
Claire.
I answered instantly.
“Claire?”
Her voice was shaking.
“Emma.”
My knees weakened.
“Where are you?”
“In my car.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I went upstairs.”
She was crying now.
“There was someone inside.”
Mason moved closer.
“Did you see them?”
“No.”
“I heard something break in the bedroom and ran.”
“Good.”
“Emma…”
“What?”
“There’s something on your door.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“I saw it when I ran out.”
“What is it?”
Claire inhaled shakily.
“A photograph.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of what?”
“You.”
Silence.
Then:
“You and Mason at the rink.”
My blood turned to ice.
No one except us had been there.
At least we thought no one had.
“What else?”
“There’s writing on it.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“What does it say?”
Claire was silent for a second.
Then she read:
“Tell Mason to stop digging, or next time I won’t miss.”
The entire room froze.
Mason’s face changed.
Every trace of restraint disappeared.
Detective Kim took the phone from my hand.