Chapter 3: The Photograph
I didn't answer Sarah's call.
I watched the man outside.
He stood beneath the porch light, rain running down his dark jacket.
Michael whispered, “Dad, who is that?””
I knew him.
Not well.
But well enough.
“Stay here.””
“Who is he?””
“Michael, lock the door.””
The man walked toward the house.
Three steps.
Four.
Then he stopped.
He looked directly at the upstairs window.
At me.
My phone rang again.
Sarah.
I answered.
“What did you do?”” I demanded.
Her voice was shaking.
“Marcus, listen to me.””
“Who is outside?””
“I don't know.””
“Don't lie to me.””
“I’m not lying.””
“You knew about the letter.””
Silence.
“Sarah.””
She whispered, “Where did you find it?””
“Your question tells me everything.””
“Marcus, please.””
“Who is the man outside?””
She started crying.
“Do not let him in.””
I looked at the driveway.
“Why?””
“Because he knows what happened to Emily.””
My blood went cold.
“You said you didn't know.””
“I was trying to protect you.””
“From who?””
She didn't answer.
A knock sounded downstairs.
Michael grabbed my arm.
“Dad.””
The knock came again.
Three slow taps.
I put the letter into my pocket.
Then I walked downstairs.
“Dad, don't.””
“Stay upstairs.””
The front door had a narrow glass panel.
I looked through it.
The man outside stared back.
It was David Carter.
Sarah's older brother.
I had met him twice.
Once at our wedding.
Once at Thanksgiving.
He had always been polite.
Too polite.
I opened the door halfway but kept the chain locked.
“David.””
He nodded.
“Marcus.””
“What are you doing here?””
“I need to talk to you.””
“About Emily?””
His face changed.
“Yes.””
Behind me, Michael whispered, “Who is it?””
David heard him.
His eyes moved toward the stairs.
“Michael.””
Michael stepped into view.
David looked at him for a long moment.
Then he said something I wasn't prepared for.
“You look exactly like your mother.””
Michael's expression hardened.
“You knew my mom?””
David nodded.
“I knew her.””
“How?””
David looked at me.
“Because I was there that night.””
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“What night?””
“The night she died.””
I unlocked the chain.
David stepped inside.
Michael came down the stairs.
“Dad, who is he?””
“This is Sarah's brother.””
Michael stared at him.
David looked uncomfortable.
“I should have told you years ago.””
“Told me what?”” I asked.
David reached into his jacket.
He pulled out a photograph.
He handed it to me.
It showed Emily standing beside her car.
Next to her was Sarah.
And beside Sarah was David.
The date was printed in the corner.
The same night Emily died.
I looked at the photograph.
Sarah had told me she was at home that night.
She had told me she never saw Emily.
I turned the photograph over.
Written on the back were five words.
*She knows what she did.*
I looked at David.
“Who wrote this?””
“Emily.””
Michael moved closer.
“Why was my mom with Sarah?””
David rubbed his face.
“Because Emily had discovered something.””
“What?””
He looked at me.
“Sarah had been stealing from you.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
David's expression didn't change.
“Money. Credit cards. Checks. She'd been moving things before your marriage even began.””
“That doesn't make sense.””
“It does if you know why.””
“What was she doing with the money?””
David hesitated.
“She was paying someone.””
“Who?””
“Me.””
Michael stared at him.
“You?””
David nodded.
“I owed money to the wrong people. Sarah helped me.””
I looked at the photograph again.
“Emily found out.””
“Yes.””
“And she threatened to tell me.””
“Yes.””
“What happened?””
David's eyes filled with shame.
“I told Sarah we had to stop her.””
Michael whispered, “Stop her?””
David closed his eyes.
“I never meant for Emily to die.””
The room went silent.
My hands began trembling.
“You were there.””
“Yes.””
“Sarah was there.””
“Yes.””
“What happened?””
David looked toward the floor.
“Emily got into her car.””
“And?””
“Sarah followed her.””
I could barely breathe.
“Why?””
“She wanted the evidence back.””
“What evidence?””
“The bank records.””
I remembered something.
Three months before Emily died, she'd asked me why I had opened a second checking account.
I had told her I hadn't.
She'd looked confused.
Then she had said, I'll figure it out.
I had forgotten about it.
Until now.
“What happened at the intersection?”” I asked.
David swallowed.
“Sarah's car hit Emily's.””
Michael made a small sound behind me.
“No.””
David looked at him.
“She panicked.””
“No,” Michael said.
His voice became louder.
“You killed her.””
“I didn't drive the car.””
“You were there.””
“I know.””
“You helped her.””
David's eyes dropped.
“Yes.””
My phone buzzed.
A new message.
Not Sarah this time.
An unknown number.
*You found David. Good. Now ask him what was in the envelope he took from Emily's car.*
I looked at David.
He saw the message.
His face went white.
“What envelope?”” I asked.
He didn't answer.
“David.””
He stepped backward.
“I don't have it.””
“Who does?””
He looked toward the stairs.
Then at me.
Then he whispered:
“Sarah.””
My phone buzzed again.
A second message appeared.
*And Marcus—Emily wasn't the person Sarah was trying to silence.*
I stared at the words.
Michael came beside me.
“What does it say?””
I couldn't speak.
Then, from upstairs, we heard a floorboard creak.
Someone was in the house.
David looked up.
May you like
And whispered one name.
“Sarah.””
