Chapter 5: The Man Outside
Detective Lewis pulled the photograph closer.
“Take your time, Noah.””
My son climbed onto my lap.
“What did the man look like?””
Noah frowned.
“He had a hat.””
“What color?””
“Black.””
“Anything else?””
Noah pointed at the screen.
“He had a blue car.””
My father looked at me.
“Did you see anyone?””
I shook my head.
“No.””
But suddenly, a memory surfaced.
Three nights earlier, I had stood at the kitchen sink washing Noah’s dinner plate.
A blue sedan had been parked across the street.
I remembered because the headlights had stayed on for almost ten minutes.
I had assumed someone was waiting for a friend.
Julian had walked into the kitchen and pulled the blinds shut.
I had asked why.
He'd said, “People around here are nosy.””
At the time, I hadn't questioned it.
Now I did.
Detective Lewis noticed my expression.
“What?””
“A blue car was outside three nights ago.””
“Did Julian react?””
“He closed the blinds.””
The detective wrote something down.
My father paced toward the window.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
I looked at him.
“Because I didn't tell you anything.””
His face crumpled.
“I should have known.””
“Dad…”
“No.”” He sat beside me.
“I should've noticed.””
I reached for his hand.
“I spent seven years making sure nobody noticed.””
He squeezed my fingers.
The detective's phone rang.
He answered.
“Lewis.””
His expression changed almost immediately.
“Where?””
A pause.
“Don't touch anything. I'm on my way.””
He hung up.
“What happened?”” I asked.
“We found the storage unit.””
My heart began pounding.
“Where?””
“About twenty minutes from here.””
My father stood.
“I'm coming.””
Detective Lewis shook his head.
“You're staying with your daughter.””
“But—”
“Mr. Carter, if someone is monitoring this investigation, I don't want them knowing where we're going.””
My father looked furious.
Then he nodded.
“I'll stay.””
Detective Lewis reached the door.
“Emily, there's something else.””
“What?””
“The storage unit is rented under Margaret Hayes's name.””
My stomach dropped.
“Margaret?””
He nodded.
“Apparently, she has been paying for it for eight years.””
After he left, I stared at the ceiling.
Eight years.
Since the year my mother died.
Noah was drawing beside me.
“What are you drawing?””
He held up a picture.
A house.
Three people.
Me.
Him.
And a stick figure with a black hat standing behind the fence.
“That's the man.””
I forced myself to breathe.
“Why did Daddy tell you not to tell me?””
Noah looked confused.
“Daddy said the man was helping us.””
“Helping us do what?””
He shrugged.
“Go somewhere.””
My father's face tightened.
“Where?””
Noah looked at him.
“In the blue car.””
My father stood so quickly that his chair scraped the floor.
“Emily.””
“I know.””
He looked toward the door.
“We need to call the detective.””
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
It was Julian.
My father's face hardened.
“Don't answer.””
I stared at the screen.
The call stopped.
Then another came.
I answered.
“Julian?””
His voice was strangely calm.
“Are you alone?””
“No.””
A long pause.
“Emily, listen to me.””
“Why was Margaret with you at the bank?””
Silence.
“Where did you get that photograph?””
“Answer me.””
“Your mother knew the truth.””
My throat tightened.
“What truth?””
“You need to stop digging.””
“Why?””
“Because the people who hurt her are watching you now.””
My father reached for the phone.
Julian continued.
“And they aren't trying to scare you.””
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
Then I heard a car engine outside.
Slow.
Quiet.
My father walked to the window.
His face went pale.
“Emily.””
May you like
“What?””
“The blue car.””
