Chapter 5
Ethan drove another mile before pulling into an empty gas station.
He parked beneath a bright overhead light.
For several seconds, he stared through the windshield.
Noah slept behind us.
I waited.
Finally, Ethan whispered, “My dad didn’t die at home like I told you.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“What happened?”
“There was a car accident.”
I frowned.
“You told me he had a heart attack.”
“He did.”
“Then why are you saying car accident?”
“Because the heart attack happened after the crash.”
I stared at him.
“Why hide that?”
“Because the crash never made sense.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Twelve years ago, Dad called me around eleven at night. He and Mom had been fighting.”
“About what?”
“He wouldn’t say. He asked if he could stay at my apartment.”
“You were twenty-eight.”
“Yeah.”
Ethan swallowed.
“He never arrived.”
I reached for his hand.
“What happened?”
“They found his car down an embankment the next morning. He was alive when paramedics got there, but he died at the hospital.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded.
“Police said he probably lost control.”
“But you didn’t believe that.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Dad hated drinking. Never touched alcohol when he was driving. But they found an open bottle of whiskey in the car.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“The bottle was Mom’s brand.”
My skin prickled.
“Did you tell police?”
“Yes.”
“What did Linda say?”
“That Dad took it during their argument.”
“Could he have?”
“I guess.”
His eyes remained fixed on the dashboard.
“But there was something else.”
I waited.
“When I got to the hospital, Dad was barely conscious.”
Ethan’s voice became rough.
“He opened his eyes once. He saw me.”
“What did he say?”
“I could barely hear him.”
Ethan turned toward me.
“He said, ‘Don’t let her take it.’”
I felt cold.
“You thought he meant Linda?”
“I didn’t know.”
“What did she say?”
“She said he was confused.”
“And after he died?”
“Mom handled everything. Funeral. Insurance. Estate paperwork. She told Charlotte and me there wasn’t much money left because Dad had made bad investments.”
“Did you question it?”
“No.”
His face twisted with shame.
“She was my mother. I trusted her.”
I looked down at the threatening message.
ASK YOUR HUSBAND WHAT REALLY HAPPENED THE NIGHT HIS FATHER DIED.
“Who would know about that?”
“Charlotte.”
“Anyone else?”
“Aunt Susan.”
I immediately remembered how uncomfortable Susan had looked earlier.
How quickly she tried to leave.
“Why Susan?”
“She was Mom’s closest friend back then. They’re sisters, but they were practically inseparable.”
“And now?”
“Not anymore.”
“Why?”
Ethan shook his head.
“I never knew.”
I looked at Noah sleeping.
“We need to talk to her.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
Ethan called Susan.
She didn’t answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Then I remembered she had left Linda’s house before we did.
“Call her husband.”
“They divorced three years ago.”
“Her daughter?”
He called his cousin Rachel.
Rachel answered immediately.
“Ethan?”
“Is your mom with you?”
“No. Why?”
“When did you last talk to her?”
“This afternoon.”
Ethan looked at me.
“Can you try calling her?”
“Okay. What’s going on?”
“Just call her and call me back.”
We waited five minutes.
Ten.
Then Rachel called.
“She’s not answering.”
Ethan’s face tightened.
“Do you have a key to her house?”
“Yes.”
“Meet us there.”
Susan lived fifteen minutes away.
When we arrived, Rachel was already in the driveway.
The front door was unlocked.
That alone frightened her.
“My mom locks everything.”
Ethan told me to stay in the car with Noah.
I refused.
“We stay together.”
So I carried Noah inside while Ethan and Rachel searched.
The television was on.
A half-finished cup of tea sat on the table.
Susan’s purse was still there.
Her car was in the driveway.
But she was gone.
Rachel started panicking.
“Mom?”
She ran upstairs.
“Mom!”
No answer.
Ethan checked the back door.
It was open.
Cold air blew into the kitchen.
Then I noticed something on the floor.
A broken phone.
Susan’s phone.
The screen had been smashed.
“Ethan.”
He saw it.
Rachel came downstairs.
“What?”
I pointed.
Her face collapsed.
“Oh my God.”
Ethan called police.
While we waited, I noticed a framed photograph beside the refrigerator.
It showed a younger Linda and Susan standing with Richard.
All three were smiling.
Behind them was a lake.
Rachel followed my eyes.
“That was at my grandfather’s cabin.”
“Linda’s father?”
“Yes.”
I studied the picture.
Richard had one arm around Ethan’s mother.
But he was looking at Susan.
It was probably nothing.
Yet after everything that night, nothing felt innocent anymore.
Officer Reed was among the officers who arrived.
When she saw us again, her expression sharpened.
“What happened?”
We explained.
Rachel gave them permission to search.
No signs of obvious forced entry.
No blood.
No struggle except the smashed phone.
Then Officer Reed asked a question.
“Did Ms. Susan Walsh leave Linda’s residence before or after Linda was arrested?”
“Before,” I said.
“Did she seem upset?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing.”
Ethan added, “She tried to leave right after Noah’s video was played.”
Reed wrote it down.
Rachel looked terrified.
“You think someone took my mother?”
“We don’t know.”
At nearly two in the morning, police told us they would issue an alert and begin checking hospitals.
Rachel refused to leave.
We stayed with her.
Noah slept on the couch.
I sat beside him while Ethan paced.
Then a notification appeared on my phone.
An email.
Unknown sender.
No subject line.
Only one sentence.
IF YOU WANT SUSAN ALIVE, STOP ASKING ABOUT THE TRUST.
My hand started shaking.
I showed Ethan.
Rachel read it over his shoulder.
She screamed.
“What does that mean?”
Officer Reed, who had been standing near the doorway, took the phone.
The house erupted again.
Officers called detectives.
Questions came rapidly.
Had Susan ever disappeared before?
Did she have enemies?
Was there any chance she left willingly?
Who knew we were asking about the trust?
That question silenced us.
Linda knew.
Charlotte knew.
The officers knew.
And whoever had sent the first anonymous text knew.
Charlotte was still at Linda’s house when we left.
Linda had been arrested.
Could either of them have arranged this?
Or was there someone else?
By three-thirty, Noah woke up.
He looked around the crowded room.
“Where are we?”
I crouched beside him.
“Aunt Susan’s.”
“Why?”
“Grown-up problems.”
He looked at Ethan.
“Is Grandma still mad?”
Ethan sat beside him.
“No, buddy. Grandma made some bad choices.”
Noah thought about that.
Then he said quietly, “Aunt Charlotte was talking to somebody upstairs.”
Every adult in the room turned.
I felt my heartbeat change.
“When?”
“At Grandma’s house.”
“Tonight?”
He nodded.
“What did she say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try to remember.”
Noah rubbed his eyes.
“She was in Grandma’s bedroom.”
My stomach tightened.
“Before you recorded her?”
“Before dinner.”
“What was she saying?”
He frowned.
“She said something about Uncle Daniel.”
Ethan and I looked at each other.
“What exactly?”
Noah concentrated.
“She said, ‘He still doesn’t know Richard kept copies.’”
The room went silent.
Ethan whispered, “Copies of what?”
Noah shrugged.
“Then she said, ‘Susan has the key.’”
Rachel stared at him.
“My mom?”
Noah nodded.
Officer Reed immediately asked Rachel, “Do you know what key he could mean?”
Rachel shook her head.
Then she stopped.
Her eyes widened.
“Wait.”
She ran upstairs.
We followed.
In Susan’s bedroom, she opened a jewelry drawer.
Empty.
Another drawer.
Nothing.
Then she dropped to her knees beside the bed and reached underneath.
She pulled out a small wooden box.
Inside were old photographs.
Letters.
A passport.
And an envelope marked RICHARD.
Rachel opened it.
A tiny brass key fell into her palm.
Attached to it was a metal tag.
FIRST COUNTY SAFE DEPOSIT 314.
Ethan stared at it.
Then at me.
“If Dad kept copies of something…”
“They could be in that box,” I said.
Officer Reed immediately warned us not to touch anything else.
But Rachel was staring at the envelope.
There was writing on the back.
A sentence written in faded blue ink.
IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME, GIVE THIS TO ETHAN.
Rachel covered her mouth.
Ethan looked as if the floor had disappeared beneath him.
Then the front windows suddenly flashed bright orange.
Someone screamed.
I turned.
May you like
Through the bedroom window, flames were climbing from the hood of our car.
And Noah was no longer standing beside me.
