Chapter 24: The Discarded Phone

Richard’s phone was gone. I searched the pockets of his discarded Gala suit, his briefcase, even the charger in the mudroom. Nothing.

The phone from Chapter 1—the one that had buzzed with *Is it done?*—had vanished.

Richard was in the shower again, washing off the sweat of his panic attack. I had five minutes.

I went to his golf bag in the corner of the bedroom. He kept a “course phone” in there, an older model he claimed was just for GPS range-finding. I unzipped the side pocket.

Empty.

My heart thudded. Richard never threw anything away. He was a hoarder of data, terrified of deleting a contact or a text message he might need later. If the phones were gone, he had disposed of them.

I checked the wastebasket in the bathroom. Empty.

I checked the recycling bin in the office. Empty.

Then I remembered the receipt I had found in the jewelry box. The one for the bracelet. It had listed the time: 11:15 AM.

I ran downstairs to the garage. Richard’s car was unlocked. I opened the glove compartment, rifling through the mess of registration papers and old parking stubs.

I found a small, white bag from an electronics store. Inside was a receipt, dated yesterday afternoon. 4:30 PM.

*Item: Prepaid Burner Device x 2.*
*Payment: Cash.*

He had bought two burner phones. One for him.

And one for someone else.

I stared at the receipt. Why would my husband, the CEO of Vane Construction, need a burner phone? Unless he was communicating with someone he couldn't risk being traced to the corporate network.

Like the Cayman Islands Bank. Or Catherine.

I heard the water shut off upstairs. I shoved the receipt into my pocket and closed the glove compartment.

As I turned to leave, I saw something wedged between the passenger seat and the center console. A sleek, black rectangle.

It wasn't a burner. It was his primary phone. The one he "lost."

It must have slid out of his pocket.

I grabbed it. The screen was cracked, a spiderweb fracture across the glass. I pressed the home button.

*Enter Passcode.*

I tried the twins' birthday. *Incorrect.*
I tried our anniversary. *Incorrect.*
I tried the date of the Blackwood merger. *Incorrect.*

The phone vibrated in my hand. A notification appeared on the lock screen.

**New Message from Unknown Number**

*Don't bring her to the cabin. It's not clean yet.*