Chapter 8: The Person Watching Us
I stared at the screen.
I couldn't breathe.
The video was grainy.
The lighting was terrible.
But the person standing beside my wife's car was clear enough.
I knew that face.
I had seen it thousands of times.
My own brother.
Michael.
“No.””
The word escaped my mouth.
The coordinator looked confused.
“You know him?””
I didn't answer.
I couldn't.
Michael was my younger brother.
The person who stood beside me at my wife's funeral.
The person who hugged me while I cried.
The person who told me everything would be okay.
The person who said:
“We'll get through this together.””
My hands shook.
“That can't be real.””
Vanessa looked at the screen.
Then at me.
“I told you.””
I turned toward her.
“You knew?””
She nodded slowly.
“I found out later.””
“Later?””
My voice rose.
“How much later?””
“A few months after the funeral.””
I stared at her.
“And you said nothing?””
Her eyes filled with guilt.
“I was scared.””
I almost couldn't believe it.
“You were scared?””
She looked at Sophie.
“I was scared of what would happen if the truth came out.””
I looked back at the video.
Michael standing beside my wife's car.
The same car that crashed less than an hour later.
My mind was racing.
Why?
Why would my brother do this?
“What was he doing there?””
Vanessa was silent.
Then she said:
“He was talking to your wife.””
I felt sick.
“You saw them?””
“Yes.””
“What were they saying?””
Vanessa looked down.
“She told him she was going to tell you everything.””
Everything.
That word echoed.
“What did Michael do?””
Vanessa shook her head.
“I don't know.””
But something about her face told me she knew more.
I stepped closer.
“You're still hiding something.””
She looked at me.
“I saw him holding something.””
“What?””
“A folder.””
My heart sank.
The missing papers.
The documents.
The things Vanessa had been accused of taking.
“You thought she stole them.””
Vanessa nodded.
“I thought she was trying to protect you.””
I looked at the letter again.
My wife's words.
*Vanessa has been lying to both of us.*
Maybe she wasn't the only one.
I turned toward Sophie.
“Sweetheart, did Uncle Michael ever talk to you about that night?””
Her face changed.
A tiny movement.
But I noticed.
“Sophie?””
She looked scared.
“He told me not to tell.””
My blood ran cold.
“Tell what?””
She whispered:
“He said Mommy made a bad choice.””
I closed my eyes.
My own brother had been influencing my daughter.
For years.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
Sophie started crying.
“Because he said you would be sad.””
I pulled her into my arms.
“Sweetheart, you should always tell Daddy when someone scares you.””
She cried against me.
“I thought you would leave too.””
That sentence destroyed me.
Because I finally understood.
Everyone around my daughter had been teaching her one lesson:
People leave.
People lie.
People disappear.
I held her tighter.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?””
A man's voice spoke.
“Daniel.””
My blood froze.
I knew that voice.
Michael.
“Where did you get this number?””
A quiet laugh came through.
“You're asking the wrong question.””
My grip tightened.
“What do you want?””
A pause.
Then:
“I want you to stop digging.””
I looked at the security video.
At Vanessa.
At Sophie.
“No.””
The line went silent.
Then Michael said:
“Then you should know something.””
“What?””
“Your wife wasn't driving alone that night.””
My heart stopped.
“What did you say?””
Michael lowered his voice.
“She had someone in the passenger seat.””
The call ended.
And I realized…
May you like
the accident I had blamed myself for all these years…
might have never been an accident.
