Part 2: The Folder Lauren Was Desperate For Me Not To Open
Part 2: The Folder Lauren Was Desperate For Me Not To Open
Chapter 2: The Folder Revealed What Lauren Had Hidden From Me
I stared at the folder name.
MASON REED — INCIDENT REPORT
My hand stopped above the trackpad.
Mason Reed.
I knew that name.
Not personally.
But I had seen it six months earlier.
At work.
Mason had been one of the contractors involved in a financial investigation at my company.
He had disappeared from the project without explanation.
His access credentials had been revoked.
And according to the last report I’d seen, he had moved out of Ohio.
At least, that’s what everyone believed.
Lauren’s voice came through the phone.
“Daniel, please don’t open it.”
I looked at the screen.
“How do you know what’s in this folder?”
Silence.
“Lauren.”
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
She took a shaky breath.
“I wasn’t supposed to have access to it.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I know.”
“Where are you?”
Another pause.
“At work.”
“You’re lying.”
Her breathing stopped for a second.
“How do you know?”
“Because I can hear the gym.”
She didn’t respond.
I stood up.
“You’re at the gym.”
“Daniel…”
“Why?”
“I’ll come home.”
“No.”
I walked toward the kitchen.
“Stay where you are.”
“Please.”
“I just want the truth.”
“I’ll tell you everything.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
I looked back at the laptop.
“That’s what you said last week.”
She started crying.
I almost softened.
Almost.
Then I noticed something in the corner of the screen.
A notification.
A new message.
From the same workout partner.
You shouldn’t have let him see the folder.
My stomach tightened.
Lauren went silent on the phone.
I stared at the message.
“You’re still talking to him.”
“No.”
“Then who sent that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lauren.”
“I swear.”
Another message appeared.
Get home before he finds the second file.
I looked at my wife.
“You’re not at the gym for training.”
“No.”
“What are you doing there?”
She didn’t answer.
Then the line went dead.
I stood in the kitchen for several seconds.
The house suddenly felt unfamiliar.
The laptop was still open on the dining table.
I sat down again.
There were dozens of folders.
Most were harmless.
Workout schedules.
Insurance documents.
Old photographs.
Receipts.
But one folder had been deliberately hidden.
ARCHIVE — 11:48
I clicked it.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
The first showed Lauren entering the gym.
The second showed her leaving.
The third showed her sitting inside a dark sedan.
The fourth showed a man standing beside her.
I recognized him immediately.
Mason Reed.
My heart began pounding.
I opened another photograph.
Mason was handing Lauren an envelope.
Another showed Lauren entering an office building.
Another showed her talking to a woman I didn’t recognize.
Then I found something that made me stop breathing.
A photograph of me.
Taken outside my office.
I zoomed in.
Someone had been watching me.
For weeks.
I opened the next image.
Another photograph.
Me leaving work.
Another.
Me driving home.
Another.
Me standing beside Lauren in our driveway.
I stared at the screen.
This wasn’t about the gym.
Someone had been tracking me.
I clicked another folder.
SUBJECT — DANIEL
Inside was a document.
My full name.
My address.
My work history.
My bank information.
My daily schedule.
Even the time I usually left the house.
I felt cold.
Then I noticed the date.
The file had been created four months ago.
Before Lauren ever mentioned her new workout partner.
My phone rang.
Lauren.
I answered.
“What is this?”
She was crying.
“Daniel, listen to me.”
“Were you spying on me?”
“No.”
“Then why are there files about me?”
“Because they were using me to get information.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“I swear I’m not.”
I stared at the photograph of Mason.
“Who is Mason Reed?”
Lauren didn’t answer.
That silence told me everything.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Almost a year.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“You told me you met him three weeks ago.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of him?”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“Of the people behind him.”
I looked toward the window.
A car slowly passed our house.
Then continued down the street.
I lowered my voice.
“What people?”
Lauren whispered:
“I don’t know their names.”
“Then what do you know?”
“They have been watching our family for months.”
“Our family?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
She started crying again.
“I don’t expect you to believe anything.”
I stared at the laptop.
“Then tell me something I can verify.”
She hesitated.
“Go to the gym.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Go to the gym.”
“Why?”
“There’s a locker.”
“Whose?”
“Mason’s.”
“What am I looking for?”
“A key.”
“What key?”
“I don’t know.”
I almost laughed.
“You’re telling me to find a key without knowing what it opens?”
“There’s a number engraved on it.”
“What number?”
“114.”
I wrote it down.
“Then what?”
“Don’t open anything there.”
“Lauren.”
“Please.”
She whispered:
“If you find the key, call me.”
The call ended.
I stared at the number.
Then I looked at the laptop.
The folder marked ARCHIVE — 11:48.
I suddenly noticed another detail.
Every photograph had been taken at exactly 11:48 p.m.
Every single one.
I opened the metadata.
The locations were different.
But the timestamps were identical.
That couldn’t be right.
Someone had altered them.
I clicked the last photograph.
It showed Lauren standing outside the gym.
She wasn’t wearing workout clothes.
She was holding a black envelope.
Behind her was Mason.
But there was someone else.
A man standing near the entrance.
I zoomed in.
My heart stopped.
I knew that man.
He had attended my father’s funeral.
He had shaken my hand.
He had told me he was sorry for my loss.
And I had never seen him again.
My father’s former attorney.
I stared at the screen.
Why would he be meeting Lauren at the gym?
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
You found Mason.
I froze.
Another message arrived.
Now find out why your wife was recruited.
Then:
And don’t trust the woman calling herself Lauren’s trainer.
I stared at the screen.
Trainer.
That word suddenly meant something completely different.
I grabbed my keys.
If Lauren was telling the truth, the gym held answers.
If she was lying, it held something worse.
Either way, I had one place to start.
Locker 114.
I reached the front door.
Then my phone rang again.
This time, it wasn’t Lauren.
It was Mason.
I answered.
For several seconds, there was only silence.
Then a man’s voice whispered:
“Daniel, whatever you do…”
A pause.
“Don’t let Lauren come home.”
I froze.
“Why?”
His answer made my blood run cold.
“Because she isn’t being followed anymore.”
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“Then who is following her?”
Mason breathed heavily.
“You are.”
The call ended.
I stood motionless in the doorway.
Then I looked back at the laptop.
The screen had changed.
A new folder had appeared.
11:48 — TONIGHT
And inside it was a single photograph.
Taken less than one minute ago.
It showed me standing in my own house.
