She swiped at her tears, suddenly frantic. “I loved him, Jess! I met him months before the accident. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Loved him? You loved my husband?” I spat, my pulse racing. “This is sick!”
Diane shook her head violently. “It wasn’t like that. We were friends first. He never meant to hurt you either.”
The room felt suffocating. I stumbled back, trying to process the betrayal. “You let me grieve for him while you—”
“I thought he was dead! We thought he was dead!” She cried, her voice breaking.
But Evan stepped forward, his presence grounding. “Can I say something?”
Both of us turned to him. “What do you know about this?” I demanded, glaring at him. He looked between us, then swallowed hard.
“Paul told me things before the accident,” Evan said, taking a deep breath. “Important things.”
My heart thundered. “What things?”
“He was involved in something dangerous. He was trying to expose a corrupt fishing company. They were dumping waste, and he had proof.”
“Proof?” I echoed, my voice falling to a murmur.
“Documents, photographs, everything. He wanted to take them down. That’s why he was…” Evan hesitated, looking at Diane. “That’s why he was worried.”
“Worried? Worried about what?” I felt dizzy, like the ground was shifting beneath me. I had lost Paul to the ocean, but he was fighting a different kind of battle.
“He didn’t want you to get hurt, Jess,” Evan said softly.
Before I could respond, Evan pulled out a folder from under his arm and opened it. “Look—”
Photographs of a fishing boat, documents marked “Confidential”, and a logo I recognized from the news. My throat tightened. “He was risking everything.”
All my grief, my anger, morphed into confusion. Just as I began to grasp the implications of his words, my phone buzzed violently on the table, cutting through the tension.
“It’s a private number,” I muttered, disorientated.
“Answer it,” Diane urged, her eyes wide. “It might be important.”
I hesitated, but something in Evan’s expression pushed me forward. I swiped to answer. “Hello?”
A voice, clipped and urgent, came through the speaker. “Is this Jessica? You need to meet me. It’s about Paul.”
My breath caught. “What do you mean? Where is he?”
“He’s alive,” the voice said. “And it’s critical you understand everything.”
Every shred of my world tilted as disbelief coursed through me. “Alive?” I whispered. My heart raced. “But how? Why?”
“I can’t explain over the phone. Just… please, come to this address. Now.”
The call ended abruptly, leaving a silence that roared in my ears. Paul was alive, hiding from me, tangled in a web I couldn’t comprehend.
The Call
My fingers trembled as I stared at the unfamiliar number on my phone. I hesitated, my heart racing, half-expecting it to be a cruel prank. With a deep breath, I pressed the green button. “Hello?”
A gravelly voice responded, “Is this Sara?”
“Yes… who is this?”
“I’m a private investigator. I have information about your husband, Paul.”