Chapter 4: The Woman in the Photograph
The woman in the photograph was Margaret Hayes.
My mother’s best friend.
For years, I had remembered Margaret as the woman who brought casseroles after Mom’s funeral, who hugged me so tightly I could smell her lavender perfume, and who told me, “Your mother would want you to be brave.””
Now her face stared back at me from an evidence bag.
Standing beside my husband.
Outside a bank.
Two weeks before my mother died.
“That’s Margaret,” I whispered.
Detective Lewis pulled a chair closer.
“Are you sure?””
“Yes.””
My father was staring at the photograph.
“When did you take this?””
“We didn’t,” he said.
The detective nodded.
“This came from the USB drive we found in Julian’s truck.””
My stomach tightened.
“What’s on it?””
“We're still going through the files.””
“Can I see it?””
“Not yet.””
My father looked at him.
“You think my daughter's husband had something to do with her mother’s death?””
The detective didn't answer immediately.
“We don't know what Julian was doing with this woman. But we found financial records, photographs, and copies of documents belonging to Emily.””
My mouth went dry.
“What documents?””
“Your birth certificate. Your mother’s death certificate. Your marriage license.””
I stared at him.
“Why would Julian have those?””
“That’s what we're trying to find out.””
The hospital door opened.
A nurse wheeled Noah inside.
He jumped off the chair the second he saw me.
“Mommy!””
I reached for him.
He climbed carefully onto the edge of my bed and buried his face against my arm.
“I missed you.””
“I missed you too.””
My father stood beside us.
“Buddy, are you hungry?””
Noah shook his head.
Then he looked at Detective Lewis.
“Are you the police?””
“Yes.””
“Are you gonna put Daddy in jail?””
The room went silent.
Detective Lewis crouched down.
“I'm trying to understand what happened.””
Noah thought about that.
“Daddy hurt Mommy.””
My father's eyes closed.
I stroked Noah's hair.
“It's okay.””
“No, Mommy,” Noah whispered.
“It isn't.””
I froze.
He reached into his pajama pocket.
“I found this in Daddy's truck.””
He pulled out a small brass key.
My father frowned.
“Where did you get that?””
“Daddy dropped it.””
Detective Lewis took the key carefully.
“Do you know what this opens?””
Noah shook his head.
Then he pointed at me.
“Mommy knows.””
I stared at the key.
A tiny red thread was tied around its handle.
My breath caught.
I knew that thread.
Mom used to tie red thread around important things.
Her jewelry box.
Her spare house key.
The old tin where she kept photographs.
I hadn't seen that habit since I was sixteen.
“That's my mother's.””
My father stepped closer.
“Emily…”
“I don't know why Julian had it.””
Detective Lewis examined the key.
“Does your mother have any storage units?””
My mind raced.
There had been one.
A storage unit my father mentioned after the funeral.
He'd said everything had been cleared out.
But I suddenly remembered Mom telling me something years ago.
Some things are safer when nobody knows where they are.
At the time, I thought she meant jewelry.
I looked at my father.
“Did you ever clear out Mom's storage unit?””
He stared at me.
“I thought you did.””
“I never knew there was one.””
Neither of us spoke.
Detective Lewis slowly stood.
“Then we may have somewhere to start.””
My phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
There was one sentence.
*Stop asking questions about your mother.*
My hands went cold.
Another message appeared immediately.
*Julian isn't the person you should be afraid of.*
I looked up.
“Detective?””
He stepped closer.
I handed him the phone.
He read the messages.
Then another notification appeared.
A photograph.
It was grainy, taken from a distance.
My house.
My kitchen.
The ambulance outside.
And in the foreground, someone was standing across the street, watching.
The timestamp was three minutes before the police arrived.
Detective Lewis looked toward the window.
“Your father didn't send that?””
“No.””
“Julian?””
“He was inside.””
Detective Lewis slipped the phone into an evidence bag.
“Then whoever sent this was close enough to watch everything tonight.””
Noah suddenly grabbed my sleeve.
“Mommy.””
“What?””
He pointed at the photograph.
“That’s the man who was at our house yesterday.””
My father turned sharply.
“What man?””
May you like
Noah stared at the screen.
“The one Daddy told me not to tell you about.””
