Chương 8
"No."
The answer escaped immediately.
She surprised herself.
"Why?"
"Because you sound like you are making another decision for me."
"I am trying to keep you safe."
"I know."
The words were quieter now.
"And I am trying to stop letting people decide what my life looks like."
Daniel said nothing.
That hurt more than an argument.
Because she knew he understood.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because if someone followed me, they could follow me there."
"Then where?"
Another silence.
A long one.
Finally he said, "The church on Maple."
Mara frowned.
"The one Mom went to?"
"Yeah."
"Why there?"
"Because Dad never went there."
The answer was strange enough to make her listen.
"What does that mean?"
"It means if someone is connected to him, they wouldn't think to look there."
She looked at the letter.
At the final page she had not finished.
Her thumb rested on the folded edge.
"Daniel."
"Yeah."
"There are more pages."
His breathing changed.
"What?"
"I haven't finished reading."
"You need to."
"I know."
She opened the last fold.
The ink on the page was slightly faded.
The first line was written differently.
Not her mother's normal handwriting.
Smaller.
More hurried.
Mara read it once.
Then again.
Her hand went cold.
"What does it say?"
She could barely speak.
"Daniel."
"What?"
"The letter isn't only from Mom."
The silence on the phone became absolute.
"What do you mean?"
Mara looked at the signature at the bottom of the page.
A name she had not seen in years.
A name she thought belonged only to old photographs and unanswered questions.
"There's another signature."
"Whose?"
She stared at the paper.
Her father's handwriting was unmistakable.
"I don't know how this is possible."
"Mara."
"He signed it."
Her voice shook.
"Dad signed it."
For several seconds, Daniel said nothing.
Then the sound of his breathing changed.
"Mara, listen to me carefully."
She hated those words.
People only said them when they were about to tell you something you couldn't take back.
"What?"
"Put the letter somewhere safe."
"Daniel."
"Now."
She looked toward the kitchen counter.
The letter sat there like an ordinary piece of paper.
That almost made her angry.
Something that had changed her entire life should have looked different.
It should have burned.
It should have carried some sign that warned people before they touched it.
Instead, it just rested beneath the weak yellow light above the counter.
"I need to know what happened."
"I know."
"No, you don't."
Her voice sharpened.
"You keep telling me what to do, where to go, what not to touch."
"I know."
"And every time I ask why, you give me half an answer."
"I know."
She stopped.
The repetition bothered her.
Not because he was avoiding the argument.
Because he sounded like someone who had run out of defenses.
"Daniel."
"Yeah."
"How long have you known there was something about Dad?"
The pause was longer this time.
Too long.
"Mara."
"How long?"
"I knew there were questions."
"That isn't an answer."
"I knew Mom never believed he just left."
Her fingers loosened slightly.
"What?"
"She never said it directly."
"Then how do you know?"
"Because of the way she talked about him."
Mara looked at the photograph in her hand.
The woman behind her father seemed to be staring through time.
"She hated him."
"No."
Daniel's answer came quietly.
"She was hurt by him."
Mara sat down again.
The difference between those two things felt impossible.
Her entire memory of her parents had been built around one story.
Her father left.
Her mother survived.
Daniel protected everyone.
Now every piece had started moving.
"Did Mom know he was alive?"
"I don't know."
"Stop."
"I am not trying to avoid it."
"Then what are you doing?"
"Trying to be honest."
The words irritated her because they sounded reasonable.
And she didn't want reasonable.
She wanted someone to be wrong.
She wanted one person to have lied.
It was easier when there was a villain.
It was harder when everyone had made choices because they were scared.
"Where are you?"
Daniel did not answer.
"Daniel."
"I told you."
"No."
Her eyes moved to the front door.
"You said you stopped."
"I did."
"Where?"
Another pause.
"Three blocks from the church."
Her stomach tightened.
"Then why did you say you weren't coming?"
"Because I saw him."
"Victor?"
"Yes."
"At the church?"
"Yes."
"How do you know it's him?"
"Because he walked out of his car and went inside."
"Maybe he's there for something else."
Daniel gave a quiet, humorless laugh.
"You still do that."
"What?"
"Find the most normal explanation."
She looked away.
"Someone has to."
"Maybe."
The word was gentle.
That made it worse.
"Maybe we need someone who doesn't assume the worst."
"And maybe we need someone who doesn't assume everything is fine because they want it to be."
The sentence landed.
Not because it was cruel.
Because it was true.
Mara hated that Daniel still knew exactly where to press.
"Did he see you?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"I parked behind the pharmacy."
She pictured the street.
The old church.
The pharmacy on the corner.
The small parking lot that always filled up on Sundays.
A place she had passed hundreds of times.
Somewhere ordinary.
Somewhere her mother had gone alone for years.
"What is Victor doing there?"
"I don't know."
"There you go again."
"I know."
She almost smiled despite herself.
Almost.
Then she heard something.
A faint sound.
Not from the phone.
From her apartment.
A small movement near the hallway.
Mara froze.
"Daniel."
"What?"
"Don't talk."
"What happened?"
She held her breath.
The apartment was silent.
Too silent.
The refrigerator hummed.
A pipe clicked somewhere inside the wall.
Nothing else.
"Did you hear that?"
"No."
She slowly stood.
"Stay on the phone."
"Mara."
"I said stay on the phone."
She moved toward the hallway.
Every step felt too loud.
The old wooden floor complained beneath her feet.
May you like
She reached the corner and stopped.
The front door was still locked.
