Chương 3
I appreciated that.
Comfort would have felt like someone trying to close a wound before seeing how deep it was.
She continued asking questions.
About Clara.
About my family.
About Derek.
About my mother.
About my employer.
When she asked about William Vance, my supervisor, I felt something tighten in my chest.
“He told my family my assignment couldn't be interrupted.”
“Did he have authority to make that decision?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“Then why did everyone believe him?”
I had no answer.
That bothered me.
William Vance was the regional operations director for Northline Transportation.
He was the kind of man people listened to before they realized they were listening.
He never shouted.
He never needed to.
He remembered names.
He remembered birthdays.
He sent expensive gifts during holidays.
He also controlled promotions, schedules, and careers.
Three years earlier, he had hired me after I lost my previous job during a company shutdown.
I had respected him.
Maybe I had respected him too much.
Detective Cole wrote something down.
“Has Mr. Vance contacted you since you returned?”
“No.”
“Has he contacted your family?”
Nobody spoke.
The detective looked toward Teresa.
My mother folded her arms.
“That has nothing to do with this.”
Cole did not look away.
“Mrs. Carter, I did not ask what you think matters.”
Teresa's face hardened.
For the first time that night, someone had spoken to her without fear.
“I was trying to protect my family.”
My father's wheelchair moved slightly.
Everyone looked at him.
He pointed toward Teresa.
Then toward Derek.
Then toward the stairs.
Detective Cole crouched beside him.
“Mr. Carter, can you answer yes or no?”
My father looked frustrated.
His mouth moved.
“Phone.”
The room changed.
One word.
That was all.
But everyone reacted differently.
Derek looked away.
Teresa became very still.
Aunt Beatrice touched her necklace.
The detective noticed every reaction.
“What phone?”
My father looked at me.
Then at the empty phone case.
“Her.”
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Detective Cole stood.
“Who had access to Clara’s phone after she died?”
Teresa answered too quickly.
“Nobody.”
The detective turned toward her.
“That was not the question.”
My mother looked embarrassed.
Then angry.
“You don't understand this family.”
“No,” Cole said calmly.
“That is why I am asking questions.”
The search continued until early morning.
My relatives slowly left.
The people who had come to mourn my wife left with uncomfortable expressions and whispered conversations.
By sunrise, the house felt empty.
Except for the people who mattered.
And the people I no longer trusted.
Lily had fallen asleep on the couch.
I carried her upstairs myself.
Her arms wrapped around my neck the same way they had when she was three.
Back then, she believed I could fix anything.
I wished I still believed that.
I placed her in bed and sat beside her for a while.
On her nightstand was a drawing.
Three people holding hands.
Me.
Her.
Clara.
She had drawn Clara wearing a purple dress.
Clara hated purple dresses.
She always said they made her look like a grape.
Lily had laughed when she heard that.
Small memories attacked me from everywhere.
Not dramatic memories.
Normal ones.
The way Clara sang the wrong words to songs.
The way she left cabinet doors open.
The way she always bought too many bananas because she forgot we already had some.
The things that seemed meaningless until they became impossible to experience again.
When I went downstairs, my father was awake.
Teresa was gone.
Derek was sitting at the kitchen table.
He looked older than he had the day before.
“You need to leave,” I said.
He looked up.
“I know.”
That surprised me.
“I don't want you here.”
“I know that too.”
His voice was quiet.
I leaned against the counter.
“Then why are you still here?”
He stared at his hands.
“Because if I leave, you will believe I did it.”
“Did you?”
His eyes lifted.
“No.”
“Were you in Clara's room?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too easily.
My anger rose.
“Why?”
He rubbed his face.
“I was trying to get something.”
“What?”
He did not answer.
“Derek.”
“I can't.”
I stared at him.
“You understand how bad that sounds, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then explain it.”
His jaw tightened.
“I was trying to protect Clara.”
The sentence made me laugh once.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was impossible.
“You protected her by going into her room and taking her phone?”
His face changed.
A tiny reaction.
But enough.
“You knew about the phone.”
I stepped closer.
“Lily told me.”
Derek looked toward the stairs.
“Lily saw that?”
“She saw enough.”
He closed his eyes.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he whispered.
“Your daughter saw more than anyone realizes.”
Before I could respond, my phone rang.
It was an unknown number.
I answered immediately.
A man's voice came through.
“Alex.”
I recognized it.
William Vance.
“Where did you get this number?”
A pause.
Not long.
Just long enough.
“I have access to company records.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Why are you calling me?”
“I heard about Clara.”
“You heard?”
“Yes.”
“From who?”
Another pause.
Then he said something that made the room feel colder.
“Alex, before you accuse the wrong people, you need to understand something.”
I looked at Derek.
I looked at my father's worried face.
I looked toward the stairs where Clara's bedroom waited.
“What?”
William lowered his voice.
“Your wife was investigating your company before she died.”
The silence afterward felt heavier than any answer.
“Why?”
“I think you should ask your brother.”
The call ended.
I stood there holding the phone.
Derek slowly looked up.
And for the first time since I came home, I saw real fear in his eyes.
Not guilt.
Fear.
“You know something,” I said.
Derek did not deny it.
“I know Clara found something.”
“What did she find?”
He looked toward the locked front door.
May you like
Then toward my father's wheelchair.
Then back at me.
