Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO WATCHED ME BURN
“BROOKE, YOU STOOD BESIDE MY HUSBAND WHILE HE LEFT ME AND MY BABY TO DIE. NOW YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE YOU'RE TRYING TO SAVE US?”
My voice was remarkably calm.
I hadn't known I could sound that calm while speaking to someone I despised.
On the other end of the phone, Brooke Ellis began crying.
"Claire, please. You don't understand."
"Then explain it."
"Grant told me the cabin would be empty."
My fingers tightened around the phone.
I remembered her standing in the snow.
Her white coat.
Her frightened eyes.
Her exact words.
You promised she wouldn't feel anything.
"Don't lie to me, Brooke."
"I'm not."
"You knew he was going to hurt me."
Silence.
"You knew," I repeated.
Finally, she whispered:
"Yes."
The admission should have satisfied something inside me.
Instead, it made me feel sick.
There was an enormous difference between suspecting your husband was unfaithful and hearing his mistress admit she had helped him plan your death.
"Why are you calling?"
Brooke took a shaky breath.
"Grant thinks someone escaped from the cabin. A fire investigator mentioned that the search area had been expanded beyond the building."
My heart began pounding.
"Does he know it's me?"
"Not yet. But he's afraid."
"Good."
"Claire, he's hired a private security contractor. Someone who used to work with Northstar. He's trying to find hospital admissions from the night of the fire."
I looked toward Detective Ortiz.
She had moved closer after recognizing the name I spoke.
I put the call on speaker.
"What contractor?"
Brooke hesitated.
"Daniel Cross."
Ortiz immediately wrote it down.
"Why would Grant hire him?" I asked.
"Because Daniel knows people in medical transportation and hospital security."
I felt a sudden fear for Noah.
The doctors had promised me his condition was improving.
But a hospital wasn't a fortress.
And Grant had money, professional connections, and a terrifying willingness to remove obstacles.
"Brooke," I said, "you need to tell the police everything."
"I can't."
"Then why are you calling me?"
"Because I thought I could live with what happened."
She swallowed.
"But I can't."
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered:
"I keep hearing your voice through that window."
I closed my eyes.
"Good."
"Claire—"
"I hope you hear it every time you try to sleep."
I ended the call.
Thomas was standing beside the doorway.
His face looked pale.
"Are you all right?"
"No."
I placed the phone on the bed.
"But I know what I have to do."
Detective Ortiz immediately contacted hospital security and arranged an additional protective detail.
The restricted records system was reviewed, and Noah's care team was informed that no unauthorized visitors or inquiries should be accommodated.
My new temporary phone had been assigned my existing number, which explained how Brooke had reached me.
Ortiz recommended replacing it with a secure number known only to a small group.
I agreed.
Grant had controlled enough of my life.
He wasn't going to control my safety anymore.
That evening, Rebecca brought documents for an emergency protective court filing.
They included evidence that I was alive, medically competent to direct my affairs, and actively contesting Grant's claims.
"Once these are filed," Rebecca explained, "Martin and Grant will receive notice."
"How quickly?"
"We're requesting immediate relief."
I looked at Noah's photograph.
"Then do it."
Rebecca studied me.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
I took a slow breath.
"For five days, I've been afraid Grant would find me."
I looked directly at her.
"Now I want him to know he failed."
The following morning, I received a call from Elena.
Her voice sounded strained.
"Claire, Grant called me into his office."
"What did he want?"
"He demanded to know why N417NR was grounded."
"What did you tell him?"
"That we couldn't verify its airworthiness."
"And?"
"He accused me of sabotaging the company."
I shook my head.
"Of course he did."
"He also asked whether I'd been contacted by anyone outside Northstar."
I became still.
"Did you tell him?"
"No."
"Elena—"
"I told him our safety procedures don't require his personal approval."
Despite everything, I smiled.
"That sounds like you."
There was a pause.
Then Elena lowered her voice.
"Claire, I've worked here twelve years. I've seen difficult executives, aggressive investors, and people who care more about quarterly reports than patients."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I've never seen Grant look as frightened as he did this morning."
She hesitated.
"He kept asking whether anyone had found evidence that the cabin fire wasn't an accident."
I glanced at Ortiz.
"Did he mention me?"
"No. But when I asked why the fire had anything to do with our helicopter maintenance reports, he ended the meeting."
I thanked her and hung up.
Grant was connecting the pieces.
He didn't know how much we had discovered.
And he was beginning to panic.
Later, Thomas accompanied me to a quiet conference room in the hospital's secured wing.
We were reviewing the original Northstar founding agreement.
I asked him about the years after he left my mother.
He told me he had worked in several states, flying emergency missions, repairing aircraft, and eventually settling near Cedar Ridge.
"Did you ever marry?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"No."
"Why?"
"I loved someone once. Losing her and the daughter I believed we'd buried made it difficult to imagine beginning again."
I looked down.
"That's a long time to be alone."
He smiled sadly.
"I wasn't always alone. I had friends. Coworkers. People I helped. But I never had another family."
My throat tightened.
"Well," I whispered, "you might have one now."
Thomas looked at me.
I reached across the table and took his hand.
We sat that way for several minutes.
No dramatic speeches.
No promises about replacing lost years.
Just two people beginning to understand that something precious had been returned.
Then Rebecca entered.
She looked unsettled.
"I just heard from the courthouse."
I stood.
"Did they grant the protective order?"
"Not yet. But the judge has scheduled an emergency hearing."
"Why?"
"Grant's attorney submitted additional documents."
Rebecca placed a photocopy on the table.
I recognized the signature at the bottom.
Mine.
Dated thirteen months earlier.
"What's this?"
May you like
Rebecca swallowed.
"It's a durable financial power of attorney. And unless we can prove it was obtained through deception or otherwise invalid, Grant may use it to argue that you voluntarily gave him authority over your personal financial affairs."
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