Chapter 6
Police found the stuffed dinosaur on Ethan’s bed.
At first, nothing seemed unusual.
Then a forensic technician noticed the stitching along the back had been opened and resewn by hand.
Inside the stuffing was a flash drive.
Daniel had hidden it there.
Eight months ago.
And Ethan had slept beside it almost every night.
The thought made me cry.
My brother had known he might die.
He had tried to protect us anyway.
The flash drive was encrypted.
There was a text file outside the protected folder.
Only one sentence.
SARAH WILL KNOW THE PASSWORD.
I didn’t.
At least I thought I didn’t.
Detective Bennett asked me about childhood memories with Daniel.
Birthdays.
Pets.
Street names.
Family jokes.
Nothing worked.
Then I remembered something Daniel said at our last lunch.
He was helping Ethan build a tower of blocks.
Ethan knocked it down and laughed.
Daniel looked at me.
“Remember Maple Street?”
I smiled.
“How could I forget?”
We had grown up on Maple Street.
Then he said, “Some foundations look solid until you pull one piece.”
I thought he was being sentimental.
Now it felt like a message.
The password wasn’t MAPLESTREET.
It wasn’t our old house number.
Then I remembered the tree.
There had been an enormous maple tree in our backyard.
Daniel and I carved our initials into it.
SM + DM.
Underneath, Daniel carved the year our father left.
2004.
I gave the investigators a combination.
SMDM2004.
The drive opened.
Detective Bennett didn’t smile.
But I saw relief.
The files contained financial spreadsheets, copies of emails, internal BrightSteps documents, screenshots of private chat groups, and server logs.
Enough to prove Mark had lied about almost everything.
But the worst file was an audio recording.
Daniel had secretly recorded a meeting between Mark and Victor Hale.
Bennett let me hear only a short part.
Victor’s voice was unmistakable.
“You let sentiment become a problem.”
Mark replied, “Daniel is my wife’s brother.”
“And?”
“I can manage him.”
“You said that two weeks ago.”
“He hasn’t gone to police.”
“Yet.”
Then Mark whispered, “Sarah would never forgive me.”
Victor laughed.
“Forgiveness is for people who still have choices.”
The recording ended.
I stared at the table.
“Victor ordered Daniel killed.”
“We cannot conclude that from this recording alone.”
“He threatened him.”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel died.”
“Yes.”
“And Mark covered it up.”
“We are investigating.”
I wanted certainty.
Law enforcement dealt in evidence.
I dealt in memories.
Daniel smiling at Ethan.
Daniel warning me.
Daniel lying in a coffin while Mark held my hand.
I remembered Mark crying at the funeral.
I remembered him hugging my mother.
I remembered him saying, “Daniel was like a brother to me.”
I ran to the bathroom and threw up again.
Later that afternoon, something happened that made the entire investigation more dangerous.
Victor Hale went on television.
He called a press conference outside Hale Technologies.
He looked calm.
Concerned.
Grieving.
“I was shocked to learn that a former business partner may have abused technology developed with my company’s support.”
Former business partner.
Mark.
Victor continued.
“If these allegations are true, my family and company are victims as well.”
Victims.
I nearly threw the remote.
“He’s distancing himself,” Bennett said.
“He’s lying.”
“Possibly.”
“He knows police found Daniel’s drive.”
“Not necessarily.”
“How else would he be speaking publicly already?”
She didn’t answer.
Then Victor looked directly into the camera.
“My heart especially goes out to Sarah Carter and her young son.”
My blood turned cold.
He used my name.
He had never contacted me.
He had never asked permission.
The message was for me.
I know where you are.
I know this is about you.
Detective Bennett must have thought the same because she immediately stepped into the hallway and made a call.
When she returned, two uniformed officers appeared.
“We’re moving you.”
“Where?”
“A secure location.”
“My mother?”
“She’ll be moved too.”
“Ethan?”
“With you.”
I nodded.
I didn’t care where.
I only cared about him.
We left through a private hospital exit.
I wore a borrowed hoodie.
Ethan thought we were going on an adventure.
That broke my heart.
“Are we sleeping in a hotel?”
“Something like that.”
“Can I have pancakes?”
“Yes.”
“With chocolate chips?”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
For three beautiful seconds, he was just a four-year-old asking for pancakes.
Then we reached the vehicle.
Detective Bennett stopped.
Her phone rang.
She answered.
“What?”
Her face tightened.
“When?”
She turned toward me.
“What happened?”
She hung up.
“Mark was attacked.”
I stared.
“What?”
“In county holding.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Barely.
Someone had attacked him in a shower area.
No weapon.
Just fists.
But the message was obvious.
Someone wanted him afraid.
Or dead.
“Victor?”
“We don’t know.”
“Stop saying that.”
Bennett looked me in the eye.
“You want me to say Victor Hale ordered it. I can’t say that without proof.”
“I don’t need a courtroom answer.”
“That is the only kind of answer I can give you.”
I hated it.
But she was right.
We drove to a protected residence outside the city.
My mother met us there.
She grabbed Ethan and cried into his hair.
Then she held me.
For the first time since this began, I let myself fall apart.
“I should’ve listened to Daniel,” I sobbed.
Mom pulled back.
“He didn’t tell you enough to listen.”
“I should have seen Mark.”
“We all trusted him.”
“I married him.”
“You didn’t marry the truth. You married what he showed you.”
I closed my eyes.
That sentence stayed with me.
Later, after Ethan fell asleep, Bennett called.
Mark had regained consciousness.
And he was asking to speak to me.
I laughed.
“No.”
“He says he will only cooperate if he speaks to you.”
“I don’t care.”
“He claims he knows who killed Daniel.”
I went silent.
“He’s manipulating me.”
“Probably.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because he also says Ethan is still in danger.”
I stood.
“How?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
My hands began shaking.
“What does he want?”
“To see you.”
“No.”
Then Bennett added, “Sarah, he gave us a phrase.”
“What phrase?”
“He said you would understand it.”
“What?”
“Red kite.”
I stopped breathing.
When Ethan was two, we took him to the beach.
Mark bought him a red kite.
Ethan loved it.
He cried when the string broke and the kite flew away.
For months afterward, whenever Mark and I argued privately, we used “red kite” as a code to stop the conversation because Ethan was nearby.
Nobody knew that.
Nobody except Mark and me.
“What does it mean?” Bennett asked.
“It means Ethan can hear us.”
She went quiet.
I looked toward the bedroom where my son was sleeping.
Then I understood.
“It’s not a warning about Ethan.”
“What?”
“He’s saying somebody is listening.”
I looked around the supposedly secure house.
My skin went cold.
“Detective... check the room.”
Officers searched immediately.
May you like
Ten minutes later, they found a listening device.
Hidden inside a smoke detector.
