Chapter 3: The Message From The Dead
I should have said no.
That was the first thought that crossed my mind.
When Marcus told me someone wanted to meet me, someone who claimed they were connected to Daniel’s death, every logical part of my brain screamed the same thing.
Walk away.
Call the police.
Go home.
But grief does strange things to a person.
It makes you desperate for answers.
It makes you willing to open doors you know you should leave closed.
And most of all, it makes you believe that one more piece of the truth might finally stop the pain.
That night, I sat alone in the kitchen of the house Daniel and I bought five years earlier.
The same kitchen where we danced while waiting for pasta to boil.
The same kitchen where he kissed my cheek every morning before leaving for work.
The same kitchen where he had looked me in the eyes two weeks before he died and said, “Misha, I promise you, everything is going to be okay.””
I hated those words now.
Because everything was not okay.
The house felt different.
Not empty.
Worse.
It felt like Daniel was everywhere.
His jacket still hung near the door.
His favorite mug sat on the coffee machine.
His shoes were still lined up neatly in the hallway.
Small pieces of a life that no longer existed.
I sat at the table with the letter in front of me.
Daniel’s handwriting stared back at me.
I had read it so many times that the words were beginning to lose their shape.
I never wanted to hurt you.
I thought I had more time.
More time for what?
To confess?
To choose?
To leave?
The front door opened.
I looked up.
Emma walked in carrying two cups of coffee.
She didn’t ask if I wanted one.
She knew me too well.
She placed it beside me.
“You haven’t eaten.””
I looked at the cup.
“I’m not hungry.””
“You haven’t been hungry for three days.””
I didn’t answer.
Emma pulled out the chair across from me.
“You’re really going to meet this person?””
I looked away.
“Yes.””
“Misha.””
“I need to know.””
She sighed.
“You just buried your husband.””
“I know.””
“You found out he had another woman.””
“I know.””
“And now someone is telling you they caused his death.””
I looked at her.
“I know.””
Her expression softened.
“That’s what scares me.””
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I whispered, “What if Daniel was in danger?””
Emma looked down.
“What if he needed help and nobody listened?””
I knew that wasn’t the only reason.
The truth was uglier.
Part of me needed to know whether Daniel’s last days were filled with regret or fear.
Whether he died thinking about me.
Or thinking about someone else.
At 9:15 p.m., Marcus arrived.
He looked exhausted.
He had spent the entire evening making calls, trying to find out who had contacted him.
No one knew.
The number was blocked.
The message had come from an encrypted account.
“I don’t like this,” Marcus said as he stepped into the living room.
I crossed my arms.
“Neither do I.””
“Then don’t go.””
I looked at him.
“You’re the one who told me.””
“I know.””
“Then you know I can’t ignore it.””
Marcus looked frustrated.
“You don’t understand.””
“Then explain.””
He stayed quiet.
That was becoming a pattern.
Everyone around Daniel seemed to know things.
Everyone had pieces.
And I was the only person standing in the middle of the wreckage without the full picture.
Finally, Marcus sat down.
“Daniel wasn’t himself the last few months.””
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?””
“He was nervous.””
“Nervous about what?””
“I don’t know.””
“You said he thought someone was following him.””
Marcus nodded.
“Yes.””
“And you didn’t think that was important?””
“I did.””
“Then why didn’t you tell me?””
His eyes filled with guilt.
“Because Daniel begged me not to.””
I laughed quietly.
“Of course he did.””
Marcus looked hurt.
“Misha…”
“No. It’s fine.””
It wasn’t fine.
Nothing was fine.
I stood up.
“Where are we meeting?””
Marcus hesitated.
“He gave a location.””
“Where?””
“A parking garage downtown.””
Emma immediately stood.
“No.””
I looked at her.
“Emma.””
“No. Absolutely not.””
“She wants answers.””
“Or she wants you alone.””
I understood her fear.
I really did.
But I had spent my whole life believing trust was the foundation of love.
Daniel destroyed that.
I couldn’t let fear destroy my need for the truth too.
“I won’t go alone,” I said.
Marcus nodded.
“Good.””
Emma looked between us.
“You’re both insane.””
Maybe she was right.
At 10:00 p.m., Marcus drove.
I sat in the passenger seat, staring out at the city lights.
The world looked completely normal.
People walked along sidewalks.
Cars moved through intersections.
Restaurants were full.
Nobody knew that my entire life had collapsed in forty-eight hours.
Nobody knew I was sitting beside my husband’s brother, going to meet someone who might know why Daniel died.
When we arrived at the parking garage, it was almost empty.
The concrete walls echoed every step.
I hated the place immediately.
It felt cold.
Abandoned.
Like somewhere secrets belonged.
Marcus checked his phone.
“He said level four.””
We took the elevator.
The doors opened.
Nothing.
Just rows of empty parking spaces.
Then my phone buzzed.
I froze.
A message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
Come alone.
My stomach tightened.
Marcus noticed my face.
“What?””
I showed him.
His expression hardened.
“No.””
I typed back.
Who are you?
The response came instantly.
Someone who loved Daniel before you knew he needed saving.
I stared at the screen.
Marcus read it.
“Don’t answer.””
But another message appeared.
You think you know what happened to him.
You don’t.
My hands shook.
I typed:
What do you want?
The reply came.
The truth.
Then another message.
But not the truth Daniel wanted you to hear.
I felt a chill run through me.
Marcus stepped closer.
“We’re leaving.””
“No.””
“Misha.””
“No.””
I looked around the empty garage.
“Someone knows what happened.””
“And someone could be trying to hurt you.””
I looked at my phone.
“Then why tell me to come?””
Marcus didn’t answer.
Because he didn’t know.
A sound echoed from the other side of the garage.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Approaching.
Marcus immediately moved in front of me.
“Who’s there?””
No answer.
The footsteps stopped.
Then a woman stepped out from behind a concrete pillar.
I recognized her.
My breath caught.
Because she wasn’t a stranger.
She was someone I had seen before.
Someone who had been standing at Daniel’s funeral.
Someone who had cried beside his coffin.
Someone who had hugged me and told me she was sorry for my loss.
My voice barely came out.
“Mrs. Carter?””
The woman looked at me.
Her face was full of sadness.
And fear.
“I’m sorry, Misha.””
I stared at Daniel’s old neighbor.
“What are you doing here?””
She looked down.
“I should have told you the truth sooner.””
Marcus frowned.
“What truth?””
Mrs. Carter reached into her handbag.
She pulled out a small black box.
My heart stopped.
Because I knew that box.
Daniel had one exactly like it.
A box where he kept important things.
Documents.
Memories.
Secrets.
Mrs. Carter held it out toward me.
“He gave this to me three days before he died.””
I didn’t move.
“Why?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because he knew someone was going to try to take it.””
Marcus stepped forward.
“What’s inside?””
Mrs. Carter looked at him.
Then at me.
And whispered:
“Proof that Daniel’s death was not an accident.””
I reached for the box.
But before my fingers touched it, headlights suddenly flashed across the garage.
A car door slammed.
Someone else was here.
Mrs. Carter’s face went pale.
“No…”
Marcus turned.
“Who is that?””
The woman grabbed my arm.
“You need to leave.””
The footsteps started again.
Closer.
Faster.
May you like
Mrs. Carter whispered the words that made my blood run cold.
“He found us.””
