Chương 4
“Something that could destroy people with a lot more power than me.”
I wanted to grab Derek by the collar and force the truth out of him.
The anger was there.
The confusion was there.
But underneath both was something worse.
Fear that if I pushed too hard, I would hear something I could never forget.
“Start talking,” I said.
Derek looked at the floor.
“I can't tell you everything.”
My hand hit the kitchen counter.
The sound made Lily stir upstairs.
I immediately lowered my voice.
“My wife is dead.”
Derek flinched.
“My daughter watched people lie about what happened.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
The words came out sharper than I intended.
“You don't get to sit there and say you know.”
Derek accepted the anger without defending himself.
That bothered me more than an argument would have.
“Clara called me the night before she died.”
I stopped moving.
“What did she say?”
“She asked if I still had access to old company files.”
My stomach tightened.
“What company files?”
Derek looked toward the window.
“The ones from when I worked at Northline.”
I stared at him.
My brother had left Northline almost four years earlier.
Everyone knew he quit after a disagreement with management.
What nobody knew was the disagreement had almost destroyed him.
“You told me you hated that job.”
“I did.”
“Then why were you helping Clara investigate it?”
His fingers tightened around his coffee cup.
“Because she showed me something.”
“What?”
“A payment record.”
I waited.
He did not continue.
“Derek.”
He looked up.
“A payment from a company account to a private consulting firm.”
“That doesn't sound like murder.”
“No.”
His voice became quieter.
“It sounded like the beginning of something.”
I pulled out a chair and sat across from him.
For the first time all night, I stopped looking at him as my brother.
I looked at him as someone who knew something I didn't.
“What was the firm?”
He hesitated.
“Carter Strategic Solutions.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Then I noticed my father's reaction.
Arthur's hand stopped halfway toward his water glass.
He looked at me.
I looked back.
“Dad knows that name.”
My father looked away.
Derek closed his eyes.
“Your father knows a lot of things.”
The sentence carried more weight than it should have.
I turned toward my father.
“Dad.”
He slowly shook his head.
Not no.
Not exactly.
More like wait.
I hated waiting.
Waiting was how people disappeared.
Waiting was how Clara died while everyone decided what I was allowed to know.
The next morning, Detective Cole returned with news that made everything more complicated.
She found no signs of forced entry into Clara's bedroom.
She found no clear evidence of a struggle.
But she did find something.
A hidden folder inside Clara's desk drawer.
My heart sank before she even opened it.
“Your wife was organized,” Cole said.
“She kept copies of important documents.”
I looked at the folder.
Clara's handwriting was on the front.
Northline.
The letters were written quickly.
Almost like she had been afraid someone would see.
“What is inside?”
“Mostly financial records.”
“Mostly?”
Cole opened the folder.
“There are notes.”
She handed me a page.
Clara's handwriting covered both sides.
I knew every curve of it.
I had watched those hands write grocery lists.
Birthday cards.
Little notes she left on my lunch bag.
Now those same hands had written something that might explain why she was gone.
The first line stopped me.
If anything happens to me, Alex cannot trust the first explanation.
My breathing changed.
Detective Cole watched me carefully.
“Keep reading.”
The next sentence was shorter.
Do not believe Derek did this.
I looked up.
Derek closed his eyes.
The room went silent.
“He knew about this?” Cole asked.
I looked at him.
Derek nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
His face tightened.
“Because Clara asked me not to.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought someone was watching you.”
I almost laughed.
It sounded impossible.
But nothing about the last twenty-four hours felt possible.
Detective Cole continued reading.
The notes mentioned internal reports.
Missing funds.
Altered shipping records.
And one name appeared repeatedly.
William Vance.
The man who had signed my paychecks for years.
The man who had told my family my assignment could not be interrupted.
The man who somehow knew Clara was investigating before anyone admitted it.
My phone buzzed.
A message from work.
A company-wide announcement.
William Vance had scheduled an emergency meeting for that afternoon.
The reason listed was simple.
A tragic employee family matter.
I stared at the screen.
Employee family matter.
Not Clara.
Not my wife.
Not a woman who had spent years attending company events and holiday dinners.
A matter.
Detective Cole noticed my expression.
“Something wrong?”
I showed her the message.
She read it.
Then looked at me.
“Don't go alone.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
That was a lie.
I had been planning to go alone.
Because a part of me still wanted to believe I could walk into William's office and ask a simple question.
Why?
But simple questions rarely survived complicated answers.
Before leaving, I went upstairs to check on Lily.
She was awake, sitting on her bed.
She looked smaller than usual.
Children always seemed to shrink when adults stopped pretending everything was okay.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Are the police mad at Grandma?”
I sat beside her.
“No.”
“Are they mad at Uncle Derek?”
I took a moment.
“I don't know.”
She looked down at her blanket.
“Mommy said grown-ups lie when they think they are protecting someone.”
The sentence hit me.
“When did Mommy say that?”
“Last week.”
“Why?”
She shrugged.
“She was crying.”
My throat tightened.
“What else did she say?”
Lily looked toward the doorway.
“She said you would try to fix everything.”
I smiled sadly.
“That sounds like Mommy.”
“She said sometimes fixing things means breaking them first.”
I stayed quiet.
May you like
That was exactly something Clara would say.
She never liked easy answers.
