Chapter 4
Daniel drove back to his parents’ house faster than I liked.
I begged him to call the police first.
He did.
But then he went anyway.
I went with him because I knew grief could make a good man reckless.
And Daniel was grieving.
Not for someone dead.
For the mother he thought he had.
When we pulled into the driveway, smoke was already curling from the backyard.
Robert stood near the fence in his slippers, shaking, his face ghost-white.
Margaret stood by the fire pit in her housecoat.
The lockbox was open at her feet.
Flames swallowed paper.
Daniel ran toward her.
“What did you do?”
Margaret turned slowly.
Her face was calm now.
Too calm.
“I cleaned up a misunderstanding.”
Robert’s voice broke.
“She burned everything.”
Daniel moved toward the fire.
I grabbed his arm.
“Don’t.”
He looked at me.
“There may be evidence.”
“The police are coming. Don’t touch it.”
Margaret smiled.
“That’s right, Claire. Always so smart.”
Her sweetness made my skin crawl.
“Always watching. Always recording. Always whispering in my son’s ear.”
Daniel stepped in front of me.
“Do not blame her.”
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears instantly.
It was almost impressive.
“My own son hates me now.”
“I don’t hate you,” Daniel said. “I’m afraid of you.”
The tears stopped.
For one second, her true face appeared.
Cold.
Furious.
Insulted.
Then sirens approached.
She looked toward the road.
Robert pointed at the fire.
“She burned the bank statements. The policy papers. Everything.”
Margaret laughed.
“Old papers. Trash. Nothing legal.”
I lifted my phone.
“Your kitchen camera caught you pouring lighter fluid.”
Her smile froze.
Daniel looked at me.
“You saved it?”
“Cloud backup.”
Margaret’s face darkened.
The police arrived.
This time, she did not perform well.
She tried.
She cried.
She clutched her chest.
She said the stress was too much.
But the officers had seen the video from earlier.
They knew about the theft.
The assault.
The insurance policy.
The burned documents.
They separated her from Robert and Daniel.
Robert kept shaking.
I wrapped a blanket around his shoulders while an officer questioned him.
He looked smaller than ever.
“I should have stopped this,” he whispered.
“You’re stopping it now.”
He stared at the fire pit.
“I knew about some of the money. Not all. I told myself Margaret was just trying to save Tyler.”
“From what?”
His eyes moved to mine.
That was when I knew there was more.
“Robert.”
He swallowed.
“Tyler owes money to dangerous people.”
Daniel heard and turned.
“What people?”
Robert rubbed his face.
“I don’t know names. Men came to the house two months ago. They waited in a black car. Margaret told me to stay inside.”
“And you did?” Daniel asked.
Robert flinched.
“I was scared.”
Daniel’s anger softened, but only a little.
“Dad, why didn’t you call me?”
“Because your mother said if we involved you, they would come after Claire.”
My blood ran cold.
“They knew about me?”
Robert nodded miserably.
“They had photos. Your house. Your car. Your office.”
Daniel’s face changed.
He pulled out his phone and checked the security cameras at our house.
Front porch.
Driveway.
Back gate.
All clear.
Then the back gate camera flickered.
Static.
Black screen.
My stomach dropped.
“Daniel.”
He saw it too.
We rushed home with a patrol car following.
The front door was locked.
Nothing looked broken.
But when we entered, the smell hit me.
Smoke.
Not fire.
Cigarette smoke.
Daniel did not smoke.
Neither did I.
On our kitchen counter sat an envelope.
My name was written across it in thick red marker.
CLAIRE.
Daniel told me not to touch it.
The officer opened it with gloves.
Inside was a photograph.
Me getting into my car outside work.
Taken that week.
Under it was a note.
Stop making Tyler’s problems yours.
Daniel’s hands curled into fists.
Then I noticed something else.
Our hallway closet door was open.
Inside, my emergency bag was gone.
The one with cash, copies of documents, and a small hard drive.
My hard drive.
The backup drive that stored weeks of home security footage.
Daniel whispered, “No.”
I ran to my desk.
The drawer was open.
The backup laptop was still there.
I turned it on with shaking hands.
The folder synced automatically every night.
If they had stolen the drive, maybe they had missed the cloud copy.
I opened the security archive.
There was a new file from twenty minutes earlier.
Our kitchen.
A man in a dark hoodie entering through the back door.
He knew exactly where to go.
Then he turned slightly toward the camera.
My breath stopped.
Not Tyler.
Not a stranger.
May you like
It was Daniel’s cousin, Eric.
A police officer.
