Part 4
Ortiz arrived within twenty minutes and placed the key in an evidence envelope.
“Mason sewed it into the lining,” Claire said.
“We’ll have the lab check it,” Ortiz replied. “But that’s what it looks like.”
“He put it on me.”
Jack stood near the sink, arms folded. “So Pike wasn’t supposed to find the key in her apartment.”
Ortiz nodded. “Mason may have assumed Claire would be questioned, searched, or followed. If everyone believed she had access to the unit, they would concentrate on her while he moved somewhere else.”
Claire looked down at the torn coat. “He knew they’d come.”
“We don’t know exactly what he expected.”
“He hid stolen money in my name and put the key in my clothes. What do you think he expected?”
Ortiz did not soften the answer. “I think he expected you to buy him time.”
The search team opened Unit 214 that afternoon. Inside were two duffel bags of cash, several boxes of altered vehicle records, and a handwritten ledger connecting Mason and his associates to a regional theft operation. Ortiz kept the details broad, but the meaning was clear: the people looking for Mason had reasons to fear what he had taken.
Claire was not under arrest. Investigators found no evidence that she had entered the storage facility or handled what was inside. Her identity had been used, her signature copied, and the key concealed without her knowledge.
That cleared her legally.
It did nothing to make her feel safe.
Victim services offered to move her to the shelter in Helena the next morning. Claire packed her duffel before dinner and set it beside the front door.
Jack noticed but said nothing until she began forcing her textbooks into the top.
“You don’t have to leave because Mason planted the key.”
“I’m leaving because people almost killed me over it.”
“The key is with the sheriff’s office now.”
“They might not know that. And I’m not waiting here until someone throws a brick through your window.”
“It’s my window.”
“That’s your answer to everything.”
Jack set down the dish towel in his hand. “What does that mean?”
“You act like getting hurt is acceptable as long as you’re the one who decided it.”
He had no immediate response because the accusation was uncomfortably accurate.
Claire pulled the zipper shut. “You should’ve let me take the motel.”
“I gave you a choice.”
“And now I’m making another one.”
Jack moved away from the door. “Then I’ll drive you in the morning.”
She looked at him, surprised by the lack of argument.
“I don’t think you should go,” he continued. “But I’m not Mason, and I’m not Pike. I won’t block the door and call it protection.”
Claire’s hand remained on the duffel. Gradually, her grip loosened.
That evening, Ortiz returned with new information. Evan Rusk, the younger of the two men arrested at the marsh, had agreed to speak with investigators. He claimed Mason told Pike that Claire had helped steal the money and was hiding the storage key.
“Mason gave them your address,” Ortiz said. “He also told them you knew where he planned to go.”
Claire sat at Jack’s kitchen table. Ghost lay beneath it, his shoulder against her ankle.
“Where did he plan to go?”
“Rusk says he doesn’t know. Mason fed different stories to different people.”
Ortiz placed Claire’s phone on the table. “He sent another message.”
The screen displayed three sentences.
I never wanted them to hurt you. I needed two days. Bring the key tomorrow and I can fix this.
Below it was a location: the parking lot of a closed roadside diner outside Mill Creek.
Jack read the message over Claire’s shoulder. “No.”
Ortiz looked at him. “We’re not asking her to go alone.”
“You’re not asking her to go at all.”
Claire lifted her eyes. “She’s asking me.”
“He left you for Pike.”
“I know.”
“He may be armed.”
“I know that too.”
Ortiz spoke carefully. “We can arrange a controlled meeting. Deputies will be close. Claire can walk away at any point.”
Jack turned toward the window. Darkness had settled beyond the porch, erasing the lane and cottonwoods. His first instinct was to take every decision out of Claire’s hands, lock the doors, and stand watch until someone else solved the problem.
That instinct frightened him more than Mason’s message.
“What do you want?” he asked her.
Claire rested both palms on the table. “All my life, people have decided where I live, when I leave, what I’m allowed to keep, and whether I’m worth coming back for. Mason counted on that. He thought I’d wait for him to tell me what this meant.”
She looked at Ortiz. “Tell him I still have the key…”
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