Chương 5
It was not loud.
Just the sound of something moving.
A cabinet door.
Maybe.
Daniel looked toward the hallway.
“Were you expecting someone?”
Maria shook her head.
“No.”
They waited.
The house had always made noises.
Old pipes.
Wood settling.
The refrigerator turning on.
But this was different.
This was the sound of a person trying not to be heard.
Daniel walked toward the doorway.
Maria grabbed his arm.
The gesture surprised both of them.
“Don’t.”
He looked down at her hand.
She released him immediately.
“Why?”
“Because if someone is here, they don’t want you to know.”
“That’s exactly why I need to know.”
“Daniel.”
Her voice changed.
The calm disappeared.
“You don’t know what you’re walking into.”
He looked at her.
“You do.”
Maria did not respond.
That was answer enough.
Daniel moved toward the stairs anyway.
Halfway down, he saw the front door.
It was still locked.
The alarm panel showed no warning.
Whoever was inside had either come in before they arrived or knew how to avoid setting anything off.
His pulse quickened.
On the kitchen counter, beside the canvas bag, the flash drive box was open.
But the flash drive was gone.
Daniel stopped.
Maria saw it at the same moment.
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
Then Maria whispered something Daniel had never heard from her before.
A word filled with fear.
“No.”
Daniel looked toward the back hallway.
A shadow moved across the wall.
Someone was still inside the house.
And whoever it was had not come looking for his father’s watch.
Daniel stepped forward before he had fully decided to move.
That was something he had always done when fear arrived.
He turned it into action before it had a chance to become a feeling.
Maria noticed.
“You do that,” she whispered.
“What?”
“You move before you think.”
He looked back at her.
“Not now.”
“Yes.”
Her voice was low.
“That is exactly when you do it.”
The shadow in the hallway disappeared.
For a moment, there was nothing.
No footsteps.
No sound of a door.
Nothing except the faint hum of the refrigerator and Daniel’s own breathing.
Then a floorboard creaked upstairs.
Daniel looked toward the ceiling.
Maria’s face changed.
“That’s impossible.”
“What?”
“I locked that room.”
Daniel glanced behind them toward the office.
The door was still open.
The room was empty.
“Then someone was already upstairs.”
Maria looked at the staircase.
The color had drained from her face.
“Daniel.”
He heard the warning.
He heard the fear.
But he also saw the flash drive missing from the counter.
Someone had entered his house.
Someone had found the one thing his father wanted him to see.
And someone had been close enough to take it before either of them noticed.
He started up the stairs.
Maria followed.
“Stop.”
He turned.
“If you’re scared, stay here.”
Her expression hardened.
“I am not scared.”
The answer came too quickly.
Daniel almost said something.
Then he saw her hands.
Her fingers were shaking.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
Enough for him.
“You are.”
Maria looked away.
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised him.
“But I’m more afraid of what happens if we let someone else decide what your father’s story becomes.”
Daniel did not know how to respond to that.
So he kept walking.
The upstairs hallway looked exactly as it had ten minutes earlier.
The same framed family photos.
The same faded runner rug.
The same small crack near the bathroom door that Daniel had promised himself he would repair three years ago.
Normal details.
Ordinary details.
The kind of things that made the presence of someone else feel impossible.
They reached the office.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
The desk was untouched.
The chair was still pushed in.
Daniel stepped inside.
“Where did the flash drive come from?”
Maria stayed near the doorway.
“Your father gave it to me.”
“When?”
“Two weeks before he died.”
Daniel turned.
“Two weeks?”
“Yes.”
“And you just kept it?”
“I tried to give it to you.”
“When?”
“After the funeral.”
Daniel stared at her.
The same answer again.
The same missing moment.
“When exactly?”
Maria looked uncomfortable.
“Three days after.”
Daniel searched his memory.
Three days after his father’s funeral.
He remembered waking up late.
He remembered ignoring calls.
He remembered sitting at the kitchen table with paperwork spread around him.
He remembered Rachel arguing with him about selling one of the company properties.
He remembered Lily asking if Grandpa was still in heaven.
He did not remember Maria.
Not because she was unimportant.
Because his mind had been protecting him from everything that hurt.
“What happened?”
Maria looked at the floor.
“You told me to stop making things harder.”
The words were quiet.
Daniel felt something sink inside him.
“I said that?”
“Yes.”
He looked away.
The memory came back slowly.
Maria standing near the kitchen counter.
The same blue thermos.
A folded envelope in her hand.
Daniel exhausted.
Angry.
Overwhelmed.
She had tried to speak.
He had cut her off.
Not because he did not care.
Because caring felt impossible.
“What did I say?”
Maria swallowed.
“You said your father was gone, and you did not want more secrets.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
The sentence sounded like something he would say.
Something he hated hearing now because he understood what it had done.
He had not rejected the truth.
He had rejected the possibility of more pain.
A small sound came from behind them.
Both turned.
A picture frame on the hallway floor had fallen.
Daniel walked out.
The frame was lying face down.
He picked it up.
The glass had cracked.
It was a photograph of him and his father from twelve years earlier.
They were standing beside the unfinished house his company had built for a family after a fire.
His father was smiling.
Daniel was younger.
Thinner.
Still believing his father could fix anything.
He turned the frame over.
May you like
A small piece of paper had been tucked behind the photograph.
He pulled it out.
