Chapter 3: The Truth About Dallas Was Worse Than Noah Expected
Chapter 3: The Truth About Dallas Was Worse Than Noah Expected
“Say that again.”
My voice sounded calmer than I felt.
Brandon stood beside the pool, dripping water onto the concrete.
“Dallas,” he repeated.
I stared at him.
“What happened there?”
He looked at Lauren.
Then at me.
“I don’t know how much you remember.”
“I remember enough.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
I remembered Dallas.
Not everything.
But enough.
A hotel hallway.
A red exit sign.
Someone shouting.
A black SUV parked beneath a streetlight.
And a man’s voice saying my name.
What I couldn’t remember was why I had been there.
Brandon swallowed.
“You weren’t supposed to remember any of it.”
Lauren stepped between us.
“Would somebody please tell me what is going on?”
Neither of us answered.
Brandon looked toward the backyard gate.
The black sedan was still there.
Its engine was running.
I took a step toward it.
Brandon grabbed my arm.
“Don’t.”
I looked down at his hand.
“Let go.”
“You don’t understand.”
“No,” I said quietly. “I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand.”
He released me.
I walked back toward the patio.
“Six years ago,” I said, “someone told me about Dallas.”
Brandon’s face tightened.
“Who?”
“You know who.”
He shook his head.
“Noah, I don’t.”
“The last person who mentioned Dallas to me died six years ago.”
Brandon went completely still.
Lauren looked between us.
“Who died?”
I didn’t answer.
Because saying the name out loud suddenly made the afternoon feel colder.
Ethan Cole.
My former colleague at Redwood Holdings.
Ethan had been the closest thing I had to a mentor when I worked there.
Six years ago, I received a call telling me he’d died in what police described as a highway accident.
I had attended his funeral.
At least, I thought I had.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
You remember Ethan. Good.
I showed it to Brandon.
His face lost what little color remained.
“Where did you get that?”
“My phone.”
“No. I mean who sent it?”
“That’s what I’m asking you.”
Lauren took the phone from my hand.
She read the message twice.
Then she looked at Brandon.
“Who is Ethan?”
Brandon didn’t respond.
Lauren’s expression hardened.
“Brandon.”
He finally sighed.
“Ethan worked for Redwood.”
“I know.”
“Noah, you don’t know everything.”
“Then start talking.”
Brandon glanced at the other guests.
Most of them had gone quiet.
Some were pretending not to listen.
Lauren lowered her voice.
“Maybe we should go inside.”
“No.”
I kept my eyes on Brandon.
“Whatever happened in Dallas happened because of Redwood.”
Brandon nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
“And you were there.”
His silence answered me.
Lauren’s eyes widened.
“You were both there?”
Brandon looked at me.
“So were you.”
The world seemed to stop for half a second.
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I suddenly remembered something.
A parking garage.
Rain.
Ethan standing beside a black SUV.
And Brandon arguing with him.
“You’re going to destroy all of us.”
Ethan had looked directly at me.
“Noah already knows.”
Then everything went dark.
I grabbed the edge of the table.
Lauren immediately stepped toward me.
“Noah?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
I closed my eyes.
Another memory surfaced.
A folder.
A signature.
My signature.
And a woman crying.
Then the memory disappeared.
I opened my eyes.
“Brandon.”
“What?”
“Why did my name authorize your accounts?”
He looked away.
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s a lie.”
His jaw tightened.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“You authorized the first transfer.”
Lauren stared at me.
“What transfer?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I genuinely didn’t remember.
Brandon continued.
“Six years ago, Redwood was moving money through several companies. You discovered it.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“You did.”
“I would remember something like that.”
“You didn’t get the chance.”
“What does that mean?”
Brandon stepped closer.
“Your accident wasn’t an accident.”
Lauren covered her mouth.
I stared at him.
“What accident?”
He looked confused.
“You don’t remember?”
“No.”
Brandon whispered,
“You crashed outside Dallas.”
The memory came back violently.
Rain against a windshield.
Headlights.
Metal twisting.
Ethan screaming my name.
And someone sitting in the passenger seat.
Someone I couldn’t see.
Then a woman’s voice.
“Drive.”
My stomach turned.
I looked at Lauren.
She was crying now.
But there was something else in her expression.
Fear.
Not surprise.
Fear.
I noticed it immediately.
“You knew.”
She shook her head.
“Noah…”
“You knew about Dallas.”
“I knew there was something you weren’t supposed to remember.”
“Who told you?”
She didn’t answer.
Brandon suddenly looked toward the street.
The black sedan was gone.
His phone buzzed.
He checked it.
Then dropped it.
“What?”
I picked it up.
A photograph was displayed on the screen.
It was old.
Six years old.
Taken inside a parking garage.
I recognized Ethan.
I recognized Brandon.
And I recognized myself.
But there was someone standing beside me.
Lauren.
My wife.
Six years before we supposedly met.
I stared at the photograph.
Lauren began shaking her head.
“Noah, please let me explain.”
I couldn’t speak.
Because beneath the photograph was one final message.
Ask your wife why she was in Dallas before you ever met her.