Chương 6
Mara’s fingers went numb around the key.
There had been a gray SUV at Daniel’s funeral.
She saw it suddenly with impossible clarity.
Parked across the street from the church.
Engine running.
She had noticed only because the driver never got out.
At the time she had assumed someone was waiting for another service.
“Did he get a license plate?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“I never saw it.”
“Then this is useless.”
“Yes.”
Karen sounded almost relieved to admit it.
“It’s not proof of anything.”
Mara looked out the window.
The clouds had broken beneath them.
Land appeared far below in flat brown and green geometry.
Louise touched her sleeve.
“Mom.”
Mara did not look away.
“There was one at the funeral.”
Karen turned around fully.
“What?”
“A gray SUV.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
The answer surprised Louise.
Mara forced herself to breathe.
“No, I’m not sure.”
She looked at Karen.
“I remember a vehicle.”
“That doesn’t mean it was the same one.”
“I know.”
Karen stared at her.
For the first time, Mara saw something in the woman that was not hostility or fear.
Respect, perhaps.
Or relief that Mara had not transformed one uncertain memory into certainty.
“Daniel did that too,” Karen said.
“Did what?”
“Corrected himself when he didn’t know.”
Mara felt the comment like an intrusion.
“Don’t talk about him like you knew him.”
Karen’s expression hardened.
“I did know him.”
“No.”
Mara leaned closer.
“You knew the version of him that stayed late at work and argued about records in parking garages.”
Karen went pale again.
Mara continued.
“I knew the man who sang the wrong lyrics to every song and left wet towels on the bed and cut sandwiches diagonally because Louise said rectangles tasted worse.”
Louise murmured, “They do.”
Mara almost lost her voice.
She swallowed.
“You don’t get to make him yours because you had secrets with him.”
Karen looked down.
“I’m not trying to.”
“Then stop talking like you are.”
For several seconds, Karen said nothing.
Then she whispered, “He blamed me.”
Mara waited.
“For what?”
“The first time he reported the altered files.”
Karen’s voice had changed.
“He trusted me.”
“And?”
“I told my supervisor.”
“That was your job.”
“I told myself that too.”
Karen looked toward the front of the cabin.
“My supervisor told his supervisor.”
“And then?”
“Three days later, every file Daniel had flagged disappeared from the shared review system.”
Mara felt cold despite the warm baby sleeping against her.
“Deleted?”
“Restricted.”
“By who?”
“I never found out.”
“You worked in compliance.”
“I was not important.”
Karen’s voice sharpened with old bitterness.
“I had a title that sounded important.”
The landing gear lowered beneath them with a deep mechanical rumble.
Several passengers straightened automatically.
Mara barely noticed.
“Why did Daniel keep trusting you?”
“He didn’t.”
Karen looked at Louise’s tablet.
“That video was the last time we spoke in person.”
“Then why did he send you anything?”
“He didn’t.”
Mara frowned.
“You said you knew about the outside lawyer.”
“I found out afterward.”
“How?”
Karen looked directly at her.
“Because the lawyer contacted me after Daniel died.”
Mara’s heartbeat slowed strangely.
“Why?”
Karen took a breath.
“Because Daniel had already given him my name as the person most likely to know which records had been changed.”
The wheels struck the runway hard enough to jolt everyone forward.
Noah woke and began to cry.
Around them, phones came off airplane mode one after another.
Chimes and vibrations spread through the cabin.
Karen reached into her pocket.
Mara saw the screen light before Karen could turn it away.
A message preview appeared from an unknown number.
I know you found her.
Karen’s thumb froze above the screen.
Mara saw the message disappear as the notification banner collapsed.
“Who sent that?”
Karen locked the phone.
“I don’t know.”
“That was fast.”
“I said I don’t know.”
The plane slowed along the runway, engines changing pitch as the cabin filled with the restless movement of people already reaching for bags despite the illuminated seat belt sign.
Louise looked from Karen to Mara.
“Who found who?”
Karen stared straight ahead.
“No idea.”
Mara leaned forward.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to understand that unknown numbers are unknown for a reason.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
Karen’s voice dropped.
“It’s the only one I have.”
The aircraft turned toward the terminal.
Noah fussed harder against Mara’s chest, his face scrunching red with sleep and hunger and indignation at the noise.
Mara bounced him lightly.
Karen glanced toward the baby and then away.
The movement was so quick Mara almost missed it.
“You have children?” Mara asked.
Karen looked startled.
“One.”
“How old?”
“Twenty-two.”
The answer carried no warmth.
Louise tilted her head.
“A boy or a girl?”
“Girl.”
“What’s her name?”
Karen looked at her.
“Emily.”
Louise nodded as if filing away a fact for later.
Mara hated how normal that exchange sounded.
She also hated that it made Karen more real.
Real people were harder to fear cleanly.
The plane stopped short of the gate and waited.
Someone groaned several rows back.
A man near the front began a loud phone call about a delayed connection.
The ordinariness of it made Mara’s skin crawl.
Karen unlocked her phone again.
“Don’t delete anything,” Mara said.
“I’m not.”
“Show me.”
Karen gave her a look.
“No.”
“Then how do I know?”
“You don’t.”
Mara almost snapped back, but Louise spoke first.
“Screenshot it.”
Karen turned.
“What?”
“If you’re scared they’ll delete it from your phone somehow, take a screenshot.”
Karen stared at her.
Louise shrugged.
“My teacher says screenshots are not magic, but they’re better than forgetting exactly what something said.”
Mara looked at her daughter.
“What kind of lesson was that?”
“Group chat drama.”
Despite herself, Mara almost laughed again.
Karen did not.
She took the screenshot.
Then she opened the message thread.
There was only the one text.
No prior messages.
No contact name.
May you like
No visible image.
“Read the number,” Mara said.
