Chapter 3 - The Wolf In Wolf's Clothing
By six o'clock that evening, the corporate lodge in Sonoma had canceled the opening cocktail party, but Caleb Vance hadn't stayed behind to offer comfort to his injured co-workers. He had driven three hours back to Oakland, frantic, disheveled, and hunting for answers.
When the frantic pounding rattled my apartment door, I didn't jump. I calmly walked to the entryway, verified through the peephole that Caleb was alone, and made sure my phone was tucked securely into my front pocket, audio recorder running.
I opened the door, deliberately letting my shoulders slump, clutching a box of tissues to my chest.
"Caleb?" I said, blinking as if woken from a feverish nap. "What are you doing here? Evelyn told me what happened to Madison. Is she—"
Caleb pushed his way past me without wiping his wet boots, tracking muddy water across my polished hardwood floor. His hair was damp, his expensive cashmere sweater was wrinkled, and the panic in his dark eyes was raw and vicious.
"Why didn't you drive her, Harper?" he demanded, whirling around in the middle of my living room. His jaw was clenched so hard the tendons in his neck looked like wire cables. "You were supposed to pick her up! You’ve picked her up for every single corporate event for three years!"
I took a slow step backward, letting genuine revulsion mask itself as hurt confusion.
"I was sick, Caleb! I threw up half the night! I emailed Evelyn before sunrise and told her I couldn't make the drive. Why are you screaming at me like this? She’s your coworker! You sound like... you sound like you’re blaming me for her drunk driving!"
"Because if you had been behind the wheel, none of this would have happened!" Caleb shouted, slamming his fist onto my kitchen counter. The decorative ceramic bowl rattled against the granite. "She wouldn't have been speeding! She wouldn't have been alone! She wouldn't be facing felony DUI charges and corporate termination!"
"If I had been behind the wheel?" I repeated, my voice dropping into a deadly, quiet register. "Caleb, she was drunk. If I had been driving her car, why would I have been driving her car? She’s a grown woman. Why is it my responsibility to keep Madison Reed from breaking the law?"
Caleb froze. For a split second, the mask of the loving, supportive fiancé slipped, revealing the calculating sociopath underneath. He realized he had overplayed his hand. He realized how bizarre, how irrational his fury sounded to someone who supposedly knew nothing about their hidden arrangements.
In my previous life, Caleb had convinced me to put Madison's name on my personal car insurance policy as an authorized driver. He had subtly maneuvered our schedules so that whenever Madison went somewhere, I was always the designated driver, the designated babysitter, the invisible shield. They had been planning an exit strategy for their embezzlement for months, and I had been designed from day one to be the crash dummy.
"I'm sorry," Caleb stammered, running a trembling hand through his hair, trying desperately to dial back his rage. "I’m sorry, babe. I’m just... I’m rattled. You know how close our families are. My uncle is threatening to fire her from the firm entirely. He's talking about voiding her stock options. If she goes down for a felony, it ruins our entire department's bonus pool."
"Is that all this is to you? Company bonuses?" I asked, looking at him with wide, disappointed eyes. "A woman almost died today. A truck driver could have been killed."
"Of course that’s not all," he said quickly, stepping forward to wrap his arms around me.
The moment his hands touched my shoulders, my skin crawled. Every nerve ending in my body screamed in protest. This was the man who had sat in the courtroom gallery holding hands with Madison’s mother while the judge read my seven-year sentence. This was the man who had emptied our joint bank accounts the week I was booked into county jail, claiming the funds were needed for 'restitution fees' that never materialized.
"We need to stick together," Caleb whispered against my hair, his voice smooth, oily, trying to re-exert control. "Madison’s lawyer is already looking at options. They might try to argue that her drink was spiked at the mixer last night. They might need character references from us. Harper, when the police interview the team, you need to tell them Madison was completely sober when you talked to her this morning. You need to tell them she never drank during work functions."
I pulled back just enough to look directly into his lying eyes.
"The police are going to interview me?"
"Just routine background," he urged softly, caressing my cheek with fingers that felt like ice. "Just tell them she was clear-headed, that she seemed fine, and that her car had mechanical issues you noticed earlier this week. If we establish the car malfunctioned, it softens the state's case."
He was already doing it. Even without me in the wreck, he was trying to use me to construct their perjury. He was asking me to commit a crime to save the woman who had been warming his bed behind my back.
"I'll think about what to say, Caleb," I lied softly, lowering my gaze. "I just need to sleep. My head is pounding."
"Good girl," he murmured, kissing my forehead. "Get some rest. I’ll handle Uncle Marcus."
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The moment the door clicked shut behind him, I went to the sink, scrubbed my forehead with boiling water and soap until the skin turned raw red, and then walked back to my computer.
I opened Caleb’s voicemail, uploaded his audio recording from my living room right beside it, and labeled the folder: Exhibit A: Witness Tampering.
