Chapter 3 - The Man Across Franklin Street
Clara watched the security clip twelve times.
Each time, the result was the same.
The man across Franklin Street looked like Gabriel.
Not the Gabriel from the hospital.
The Gabriel from before the crash.
His shoulders were leaner, his hair slightly longer, and the image quality was poor, but the tilt of his head was unmistakable.
"Enhance it," Clara said.
Dante shook his head.
"This is not television."
"Then find another camera."
Leonardo was already speaking into his phone.
He ordered someone to collect exterior footage from nearby businesses, parking garages, and traffic cameras that could be legally obtained.
Clara heard the word legally and almost smiled at the irony.
She didn't.
"If that's Gabriel, why didn't he come inside?"
Leonardo ended the call.
"Maybe because he saw me."
"Or maybe because he wanted you to see him."
Dante pointed at the timestamp.
"He was there before Leo arrived."
Clara felt another chill.
That meant the man had been watching her, not Leonardo.
"How long?"
Simon checked the footage.
"He appears at 5:42."
"Clara started at five."
"He leaves at 6:18."
Leonardo had entered at 6:21.
Three minutes later.
The timing was too precise to ignore.
Clara reached for her coat.
"I'm going home."
Leonardo blocked her path without touching her.
"You're not going alone."
"Watch me."
"Someone followed you to work."
"Someone called this restaurant asking for the ring."
"And the person who may be responsible knows where you live."
Clara's hand stopped on her coat sleeve.
"How would they know where I live?"
Dante answered gently.
"If they know your name, it would not be difficult."
That truth irritated her because it was ordinary.
She had spent years imagining danger as something obvious and dramatic.
Now it looked like a man standing under an awning while she clocked in for work.
"Fine," she said.
"You can take me home."
"One car."
"No parade."
Leonardo nodded.
Dante started to protest.
Leonardo silenced him with a look.
Twenty minutes later, Clara sat in the back of a black sedan beside Leonardo while Chicago passed in wet reflections beyond the windows.
Dante drove.
No one spoke for the first several blocks.
Clara finally broke the silence.
"Tell me something true about Gabriel."
Leonardo turned toward her.
"Something that has nothing to do with rings, boats, or secrets."
He considered the request.
"He hated olives."
Clara blinked.
"He told me he loved them."
Leonardo almost smiled.
"He was trying to become a different person."
"Apparently that included lying about olives."
Clara looked out the window.
"He always picked them off pizza and put them on my plate."
"So he still hated them."
For one brief moment, the tension loosened.
Then Leonardo said, "He also played piano badly."
Clara looked back at him.
"He played beautifully."
"Then he practiced."
"When we were kids, he knew six songs and played all of them too fast."
Clara smiled despite herself.
The smile hurt.
"He used to play when he couldn't sleep."
"Moon River, mostly."
Leonardo's face changed.
"Our mother used to hum that."
"His mother?"
"Yes."
Clara leaned back against the seat.
A thousand small habits she had believed belonged only to their marriage now seemed connected to a history Gabriel had hidden.
She did not know whether that made her feel closer to him or farther away.
The sedan turned onto her block in Lincoln Park.
Dante slowed before reaching her building.
"Something is wrong."
Clara leaned forward.
"What?"
Her apartment windows were dark.
That was normal.
The front door looked normal.
Then she saw the narrow strip of yellow police tape fluttering from the frame.
Clara's stomach dropped.
She opened the car door before it fully stopped.
Leonardo caught the back of her coat.
"Wait."
"That's my home."
"Exactly."
Dante got out first and spoke to the building manager, who stood under the awning in pajamas and a winter coat.
The manager pointed upstairs with both hands.
Clara could not hear the conversation through the glass.
Dante returned.
"Your neighbor called police about a noise around eight."
"They found your door open."
"Nothing obvious was taken."
Clara pushed past him.
"I need to see."
Leonardo followed.
Two officers remained in the hallway taking notes.
After confirming Clara's identity, they allowed her inside with a warning not to touch anything until photographs were complete.
Her apartment looked as though a storm had passed through only selected parts of it.
Couch cushions were opened.
Books had been pulled from shelves.
Kitchen drawers stood open.
Her television remained on the wall.
Her laptop sat untouched on the small desk.
A jar containing nearly three hundred dollars in cash was still on the kitchen counter.
Leonardo noticed the same thing.
"They weren't stealing."
Clara walked toward the bedroom.
The closet floor was covered with clothes.
Boxes had been emptied onto the bed.
The wooden chest where she kept Gabriel's belongings stood open.
Her pulse quickened.
She crossed the room.
Gabriel's watch was still there.
His wedding tie was still there.
The old paperback he had carried on their honeymoon was still there.
But one item was missing.
Clara searched the chest again.
Then again.
"No."
Leonardo stood in the doorway.
"What?"
"A letter."
"What letter?"
"Gabriel wrote it before surgery."
"He asked the nurse to give it to me if he didn't wake up."
"It was still sealed."
Dante stared at her.
"You never opened it?"
Clara shook her head.
"I tried once."
"I couldn't."
"It felt like opening it would make everything final."
Leonardo stepped into the room.
"Where did you keep it?"
Clara pointed to the empty space beneath a folded sweater.
"Right there."
Dante swore under his breath.
"Who knew about it?"
"No one."
"Not even family?"
"I don't have much family."
"My friend Maya knew there was a letter, but she never saw where I kept it."
Leonardo crouched beside the chest.
"Whoever came here knew exactly what mattered."
Clara's throat tightened.
"Then why leave the ring with me?"
Dante looked at her hand.
"Maybe they didn't know you wore it."
Leonardo shook his head.
"They knew by tonight."
Clara looked toward the window.
Across the street, traffic moved through the rain.
A bus stopped.
Pedestrians hurried beneath umbrellas.
For a second, she imagined Gabriel standing among them.
Watching.
Waiting.
The thought made her furious.
"If he is alive," she said, "I don't care what danger he was in."
"He had three years to tell me."
Leonardo did not argue.
One of the police officers called from the living room.
"Ms. Bennett?"
Clara walked out.
The officer held a small evidence bag.
Inside was a folded restaurant receipt.
"We found this under your kitchen table."
Clara frowned.
"That's not mine."
The receipt was from a coffee shop near Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
It had been printed that morning.
On the back, someone had written six words in black ink.
Clara read them twice.
May you like
Then she handed the bag to Leonardo.
The note said, "Ask who visited him last."
