Chapter 7 - The Woman Who Vanished.
Detective Kim took my phone before I could touch the message.
The number was routed through an internet service and vanished behind layers of disposable accounts.
That did not make it anonymous.
It made it deliberate.
The search for Maya intensified overnight.
Her husband, Adrian’s younger brother, Lucas, claimed he had no idea where she was.
He also claimed their marriage was happy.
Kim did not believe him.
Neither did I.
At 6:40 the next morning, Lena woke me by shaking my shoulder.
“There is someone at the door.”
My security camera showed a man in a brown delivery jacket holding a cardboard box.
He kept his face turned away.
“I didn’t order anything.”
Lena called building security.
The man left the box in the hallway and walked toward the stairwell instead of the elevator.
Security intercepted him three floors down.
He ran.
They did not catch him.
The bomb squad cleared the package.
Inside was not an explosive.
It was worse in a quieter way.
The box contained a framed photograph from my wedding.
Someone had cracked the glass directly over my face.
Beneath the photograph sat a copy of the forged deed.
Across it, someone had written one sentence in red marker.
YOU COULD HAVE MADE THIS EASY.
Kim photographed everything.
Then she told me to stay somewhere the Caldwells did not know.
Lena’s apartment was too obvious.
My office was too obvious.
A hotel registered under my name was too obvious.
My company placed me in a corporate apartment used for visiting engineers.
Only three people knew the address.
That afternoon, Kim called with news about Maya’s SUV.
Traffic cameras had captured another vehicle following it.
A black Range Rover.
Registered to Caldwell Vineyard Holdings.
The driver was Peter Sloan.
The financial administrator.
The notary whose stamp appeared on the forged deed.
The man who had followed me through my own garage.
Police went to Peter’s house.
He was gone.
His closets were half empty.
His passport was missing.
His laptop had been wiped.
But he had forgotten one thing.
His home printer retained a temporary copy of the last document he printed.
It was a map.
A rural road north of Calistoga had been circled.
At the end of the road stood a small property owned by an LLC.
The LLC traced back to Charles Caldwell.
Kim obtained a search warrant.
I waited in the corporate apartment with Lena while deputies drove north.
Every minute stretched.
At 9:18 p.m., my phone rang.
Kim did not say hello.
“We found Maya.”
I stood so quickly my chair fell backward.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Then Kim continued.
“She was locked inside a guesthouse.”
My relief disappeared.
“Who locked her in?”
“She says Peter Sloan brought her there.”
“Why?”
“Because she took something from the basement before dinner.”
“What?”
Kim’s voice dropped.
“A ledger.”
May you like
“And according to Maya, it contains payments connected to at least nine women.”
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