Chapter 3 - THE MAN IN THE BLACK CAR
The next morning, a black sedan appeared outside the house.
It wasn't Diane's.
It wasn't Chloe's.
And the man who stepped out didn't look like a lawyer.
He looked like someone who had spent his life making people disappear.
Diane opened the front door before he knocked.
That told me everything.
They had been expecting him.
I watched from the upstairs hallway.
The man handed Diane a folder.
She glanced toward the staircase.
I stepped back.
Ten minutes later, Diane called me downstairs.
"This is Mr. Mercer."
The man extended his hand.
"Pleasure."
I shook it.
His grip was cold.
"Likewise."
Diane smiled.
"Mr. Mercer has prepared the documents."
"Already?"
"Your retirement package is time-sensitive."
I looked at the folder.
"Of course."
Mercer opened it.
There were contracts.
Transfers.
Signatures.
Everything.
Too much.
Too fast.
I pretended to read.
Then I noticed something.
A clause near the bottom.
In the event of death or incapacitation prior to completion of transfer...
I stopped.
"What is this?"
Mercer smiled.
"Standard language."
"Death?"
"For estate protection."
I laughed.
"Interesting."
Diane interrupted.
"Don't overthink it."
I closed the folder.
"I'll sign tomorrow."
Diane's expression tightened.
"Why not today?"
"Because I want my attorney to review it."
Mercer looked at Diane.
She shook her head.
"No attorney."
I looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because attorneys complicate things."
I smiled.
"Then they should be excellent at their jobs."
Silence.
Mercer closed the folder.
"Tomorrow."
He stood.
As he walked past me, he whispered:
"You're making this harder than it needs to be."
I smiled.
"I've been told that before."
He left.
I waited.
Then I went upstairs.
Natalie was standing by the window.
"You saw him?"
She nodded.
"Who is he?"
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Not about him."
"Then about what?"
She looked toward the hallway.
"Diane isn't the person making decisions."
I froze.
"What?"
Natalie lowered her voice.
"She's afraid of someone."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've heard her talking at night."
"What did she say?"
Natalie swallowed.
"She always says the same thing."
"What?"
"Tell him to wait."
I stared at her.
"Tell who?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
Then she reached beneath the mattress and pulled out another object.
A tiny memory card.
"I found this inside Diane's jewelry box."
I stared at it.
"What's on it?"
"I don't know."
We went into the bathroom and locked the door.
I inserted the card into my laptop.
There were twelve videos.
The first showed Diane meeting someone.
The second showed Chloe withdrawing money.
The third showed documents being signed.
The fourth showed Natalie.
My heart stopped.
The video was from three months ago.
Natalie was sitting in a chair.
Her hair was still long.
Diane stood behind her holding electric clippers.
Natalie was crying.
The video had no sound.
Then Diane shaved her head.
I clenched my fists.
Natalie turned away.
She couldn't watch.
I continued.
The next video showed Diane taking a photograph of Natalie's hair.
Then another person entered.
A man.
I paused the video.
I knew him.
It was Mr. Mercer.
I looked at Natalie.
"He was here."
She nodded.
"Who is he?"
"I don't know."
I continued.
The man handed Diane an envelope.
She opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
I zoomed in.
My own photograph.
Taken at the airport six months earlier.
On the back were handwritten words:
He must not return before the papers are complete.
My heart pounded.
Then the video ended.
The final file was labeled:
AFTER HE RETURNS.
I clicked it.
The screen showed Diane speaking directly to the camera.
She looked calm.
"By the time he watches this, he'll already know too much."
I stared.
Diane continued.
"He will either sign willingly..."
She smiled.
"Or we will make him sign."
The video ended.
Natalie covered her mouth.
I stared at the black screen.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a man's voice whispered:
"You're not supposed to be alive."
The call ended.
I looked at Natalie.
Neither of us moved.
Then headlights appeared outside.
The black sedan had returned.
But this time—
there were two cars.
And four men.
I grabbed Natalie's hand.
"We're leaving."
She shook her head.
"The doors are locked."
I looked toward the bedroom.
"Then we'll find another way."
Before we could move, the power went out.
The entire house went black.
And from downstairs—
we heard Diane scream.
Not in anger.
In terror.
"He's here!"
I looked at Natalie.
"Who?"
May you like
She whispered:
"I think the person Diane has been afraid of just came inside."
