Chapter 7 - The Second Phone
Before going to the Clock Mill, Ethan insisted on one thing.
“We need to know how Vivienne communicates with Julian.”
“Her phone.”
“Her regular phone will be clean.”
He was right.
Vivienne had always been careful.
Too careful, I now understood.
She never left her phone unlocked.
Never synced messages to shared tablets.
Never used household Wi-Fi for banking.
I had once called it privacy.
Now it looked like tradecraft.
At nine that morning, she went upstairs to change before meeting the wedding planner.
I entered her dressing room while Ethan watched the hallway.
I hated searching her belongings.
Even after everything.
That surprised me.
Betrayal doesn’t immediately erase love. It contaminates it.
Every drawer I opened contained memories.
A scarf I bought in Paris.
A jewelry case from our first Christmas.
Photographs from Italy.
A ticket from the night I proposed.
I found nothing.
Then I noticed her handbag.
The bottom was unusually rigid.
I emptied it.
Wallet.
Lipstick.
Keys.
Tissues.
Nothing.
I ran my hand along the lining.
There was a zipper sewn beneath another pocket.
Inside was a second phone.
Cheap.
Black.
No case.
Locked.
I photographed the device and returned it exactly where I found it.
“Can you get into it remotely?” I whispered.
“Not without risking a wipe.”
“Then what?”
“We watch.”
At ten-fifteen, Vivienne left.
Caleb followed at a distance.
The moment she was gone, Ethan and I drove toward the Clock Mill.
The place had been abandoned for almost twenty years.
Brick walls.
Broken windows.
A clock frozen at 4:17.
Graffiti covered the lower doors.
One warehouse section had been rented intermittently for storage.
According to property records, the current lessee was an LLC.
Owned by another LLC.
Connected to Julian.
We parked behind an overgrown tree line.
Through binoculars, I saw a black panel van.
No Mercedes.
No people visible.
Then I heard it.
A bark.
Deep.
Familiar.
Once.
Then silence.
I moved forward.
Ethan grabbed my shoulder.
“That could be him.”
“It is.”
“We call Morales.”
“We called her at Crosswood. They moved him.”
“We have stronger probable cause now.”
“Every minute we wait—”
A second bark echoed from inside.
Then a yelp.
I stopped arguing.
Detective Morales arrived with two officers twelve minutes later.
She was in her late thirties, compact, sharp-eyed, with the permanent expression of someone who had no patience for wealthy people assuming rules were optional.
“You stay outside.”
“That’s my dog.”
“And that’s my warrant.”
“You have one?”
“Emergency entry based on suspected animal cruelty and stolen property. You interfere, I put you in my car.”
Ethan nodded toward me.
“She means it.”
I stayed.
Barely.
Police entered through the side door.
Thirty seconds.
One minute.
Two.
Then Morales called.
“Come in.”
I ran.
The warehouse smelled like oil and damp concrete.
A metal cage stood beside a support column.
Empty.
My chest collapsed.
On the floor was a stainless water bowl.
A torn blanket.
Black hair.
Bruno’s.
I knelt.
The bowl was still wet.
“They just left.”
Morales pointed toward tire marks on the floor.
“Probably within an hour.”
I wanted to break something.
Instead, I noticed a brown paper bag beside the cage.
Prescription bottle.
Veterinary sedative.
The label had been removed.
Ethan photographed it.
Then one officer called from an office.
“You need to see this.”
Inside was a desk.
A laptop had been smashed.
Papers burned in a trash can.
But not completely.
One page survived.
At the top were two words:
WEDDING TIMELINE.
Beneath were entries.
8:00 — Staff arrival.
11:30 — Legal counsel.
1:00 — Photographer.
3:30 — Ceremony.
4:15 — Reception.
5:00 — Private toast.
5:20 — Signature.
5:45 — Bedroom.
6:10 — Doctor call.
I read the final line twice.
“What does that mean?”
Morales’s expression hardened.
“We don’t speculate.”
Ethan did.
“They were planning a medical event.”
At the bottom of the page was a handwritten note:
DOG MUST REMAIN OFF PROPERTY UNTIL CONFIRMATION.
I stared at it.
They feared Bruno coming home.
Even sedated.
Even old.
Because if he was present, something about their plan became harder.
A sound came from outside.
One officer shouted.
We ran toward the loading dock.
A motorcycle was speeding away.
Someone had been watching the raid.
Caleb called me.
“Vivienne just changed direction.”
“Where is she?”
“She canceled the wedding planner. She’s driving home.”
“They know.”
Ethan looked at me.
“Second phone.”
She had received a warning.
We drove back fast.
Vivienne arrived five minutes before us.
When I entered the mansion, she was in the bedroom.
Her handbag lay open.
The hidden pocket was empty.
Second phone gone.
She turned.
“Where were you?”
“Office.”
“In those clothes?”
I looked down.
Dust covered my shoes.
“Construction site.”
She watched me.
Then smiled.
“Adrian.”
“Yes?”
“I think we should sign the marital documents tonight.”
My stomach tightened.
“Tonight?”
“The lawyer can come.”
“Why the rush?”
She stepped closer.
“Because I want everything settled before the wedding.”
I touched her cheek.
“And after I sign?”
“We stop worrying.”
She smiled.
I smiled back.
But in her eyes, I saw something different now.
Fear.
She didn’t know exactly what I had discovered.
But she knew I was getting close.
And desperate people accelerate plans.
That evening, her attorney delivered a folder.
Buried among thirty pages of routine agreements was one document Ethan had predicted.
A temporary voting proxy.
Twelve percent of my company.
And attached to it was a medical authorization form.
I pretended not to understand.
“What’s this?”
Vivienne laughed lightly.
“Standard estate planning.”
I looked at her.
“Then I’ll sign tomorrow.”
Her smile vanished for half a second.
“Why not tonight?”
“Because my attorney reviews everything.”
“You don’t trust mine?”
I leaned back.
“I trust you.”
Those words hit her.
I saw it.
For one fleeting second, guilt crossed her face.
Then the second phone hidden somewhere on her body vibrated.
Once.
She looked down.
And I knew the message wasn’t good.
Because when she looked back at me, she said something I had never expected.
May you like
“Maybe we shouldn’t get married.”
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