Chương 6
Their voices were low.
Clara watched her brother gesture toward the house.
She could tell he was asking questions.
The old version of Clara would have been angry.
She would have seen it as another person doubting her.
Now she saw something different.
Thomas was trying to protect her.
In his own imperfect way.
Rachel approached carefully.
"I need to tell you something."
Clara looked up.
Rachel held her phone in both hands.
"What?"
"I recorded part of what happened."
Clara's expression changed.
"Why?"
"Because I thought I might need it."
The answer sounded bad.
Rachel knew it.
"I know how that sounds."
Clara waited.
Rachel looked embarrassed.
"When the deputy showed up, everyone was talking over each other.
I thought maybe there would be a misunderstanding, and I wanted proof of what was said."
"And?"
Rachel looked at her phone.
"I have the first conversation."
"With Michael?"
"No."
Clara frowned.
"Then what?"
Rachel hesitated.
"I have a recording from earlier."
"Earlier when?"
"Before he left."
Clara's heartbeat changed.
"Who?"
Rachel looked toward the driveway.
"Michael."
Nobody moved.
The name itself seemed to pull everyone closer.
"You met him?" Clara asked.
Rachel nodded slowly.
"Yesterday morning."
The ocean wind moved through the porch.
Clara stood up.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Rachel looked ashamed.
"Because I thought you already knew."
The words made Clara freeze.
"You met him?"
Rachel nodded.
"It was yesterday morning."
Clara stared at her.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Rachel looked ashamed.
"Because I thought you already knew."
Clara waited for more.
When it did not come, her expression changed.
"Knew what?"
Rachel glanced toward Mark and Thomas.
"I thought he was part of the closing."
The sentence created a new silence.
Deputy Reeves walked closer.
"Can you explain exactly what happened?"
Rachel nodded slowly.
"I woke up early yesterday."
She looked at Clara.
"You were still asleep."
Clara remembered that morning.
She had barely slept because she was excited.
She had stayed awake looking through pictures of the house and making a list of things she wanted to buy.
"I went outside to take a walk," Rachel continued.
"And I saw a man near the driveway."
"What did he look like?" Reeves asked.
"Early forties, maybe."
She looked uncertain.
"Dark hair.
Gray jacket.
He had a folder."
Clara felt her stomach tighten.
"A folder?"
Rachel nodded.
"He said he was checking something before everyone arrived."
"Did he say his name?"
"Yes."
Rachel looked at Clara.
"Michael."
Nobody spoke.
The name had become something physical.
Something everyone could feel.
"What exactly did he say?" Deputy Reeves asked.
Rachel closed her eyes for a second, trying to remember.
"He said Clara had handled everything perfectly and that the final paperwork was already complete."
Clara looked down.
The words sounded familiar.
Because they matched everything Michael had told her.
Everything was done.
Everything was secure.
Everything was fine.
"What else?" Reeves asked.
Rachel looked uncomfortable.
"He asked me questions."
"What kind of questions?"
"About Clara."
"Like what?"
Rachel rubbed her hand over her arm.
"He asked if she usually traveled alone."
Clara looked up.
"What?"
Rachel nodded.
"He asked if she had family nearby.
He asked how long we were staying."
A cold feeling moved through Clara.
"Why didn't you tell me this?"
Rachel looked hurt.
"Because I didn't think anything was wrong."
She looked toward the house.
"He seemed normal."
That answer bothered everyone because it was true.
People expected criminals to look suspicious.
They expected warning signs to arrive in obvious forms.
Not with a polite voice.
Not with a folder.
Not with someone remembering your name and making you feel taken care of.
Deputy Reeves took out his notebook.
"Did he ask anything else?"
Rachel thought.
"He asked if you had already moved your things in."
Clara looked toward the luggage.
"He knew."
The words came out quietly.
Mark looked at her.
"What?"
"He knew we were coming."
The realization changed the shape of the problem.
This was not just someone pretending to sell a property online.
Someone had planned around their arrival.
Someone knew when they would be there.
Someone knew who would be with her.
Deputy Reeves noticed the shift in everyone's expressions.
"How many people knew about this trip?"
Clara opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
She looked at Mark.
Then Thomas.
Then Rachel.
"Not many."
"Who knew?"
Clara hesitated.
"My daughter."
"Anyone else?"
"The seller."
"Who contacted you first?"
"Michael."
"Through what platform?"
"Email."
"Do you still have the original listing?"
"I think so."
"Think?"
Clara looked frustrated.
"I have hundreds of emails."
"That's okay."
The deputy's calm response seemed to help.
"We will go through them."
"We?"
For the first time that afternoon, Clara felt like she was not standing alone in the middle of the collapse.
Not because someone had fixed anything.
Nothing was fixed.
But because the problem had finally become something outside her own mind.
Something that could be examined.
Something that could be fought.
Thomas walked over.
"Clara."
She looked at him.
"I need to tell you something too."
Her expression tightened.
"What?"
"When you showed me the house photos last week, I thought something looked familiar."
She frowned.
"Familiar?"
"I ignored it."
"Why?"
Thomas looked embarrassed.
"Because I thought I was being jealous."
That surprised her.
"You?"
He gave a small, uncomfortable laugh.
"Yeah."
He looked toward the ocean.
"You were finally doing something big without needing anyone's approval."
Clara did not know what to say.
"So I convinced myself I was just being bitter."
"What did you recognize?"
Thomas pulled out his phone.
He searched for something.
Then he turned the screen toward her.
It was a photograph from a real estate website.
An old listing.
Different date.
Different information.
But the same house.
Clara stared at it.
The picture showed the same dusty-blue walls.
The same white trim.
The same view.
Her throat tightened.
"Where did you find this?"
"I searched the address after you sent it to me."
May you like
"You had the address?"
"You texted it in the group chat."
