Chương 5
"Then what are you asking for?"
Daniel paused.
The answer sounded unreasonable even to him.
"I am asking why the final report was revised after my wife died."
The receptionist's hands stopped.
Only for a moment.
But Daniel noticed.
"I don't know anything about that."
Her voice changed slightly.
Not much.
Just enough.
Daniel lowered his voice.
"Someone changed the report."
She looked around before speaking.
"Sir, you should submit the form."
"Who changed it?"
"I don't know."
"You said you don't know anything about it."
"I don't."
The difference was small.
Daniel heard it.
She knew something existed.
She just did not want to be the person standing between him and it.
He took the form.
"Can I ask you one thing?"
The receptionist looked tired.
"What?"
"Did my wife come here before she died?"
The woman looked down.
That was the answer.
Daniel felt it before she spoke.
"She came here twice."
His grip tightened around the paper.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
The receptionist shook her head.
"I don't know."
"You keep saying that."
"Because I keep not knowing."
There was irritation in her voice now.
Not cruelty.
Just exhaustion.
"I have worked here fourteen years, Mr. Mercer."
She lowered her voice.
"I have seen families come in after accidents and look for someone to blame."
Daniel looked at her.
"And did you see my wife doing that?"
The woman hesitated.
"No."
The honesty surprised him.
"She wasn't angry."
"Then what was she?"
The receptionist looked toward the hallway.
"Scared."
The word stayed with him.
Not because it was new.
Because it matched the note.
Daniel left without getting the answers he wanted.
That was becoming a familiar pattern.
Outside, he sat in his car and stared at the building.
He thought about calling someone.
A lawyer.
A reporter.
The police.
Anyone who could turn confusion into movement.
Instead, he called the only person who might know what Mara had been doing before she died.
Her sister.
Rachel answered on the fourth ring.
"Daniel?"
Her voice carried the same guarded distance it had carried since the funeral.
"Rachel, I need to ask you something."
A pause.
"Is this about Mara?"
"Yes."
Another pause.
"You know I don't like when you say her name like that."
Daniel frowned.
"Like what?"
"Like you are surprised she existed."
The comment hit harder than he expected.
"Rachel."
"No."
Her voice sharpened.
"You don't get to call me after almost a year because you found something and suddenly want to talk about my sister."
"I found a note."
Silence.
"What kind of note?"
"She left it."
Rachel stopped breathing for a second.
Daniel heard it through the phone.
"She wrote that she was afraid."
The silence returned.
Then Rachel said quietly.
"She told me."
Daniel closed his eyes.
"When?"
"Before she died."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Rachel laughed softly.
It was a painful sound.
"Because you didn't want to hear it."
"That's not fair."
"No?"
Her voice broke slightly.
"Daniel, she called you three nights before the accident."
He looked at the dashboard.
"What?"
"She said she tried to tell you."
"I don't remember that."
"I know."
The answer was worse than anger.
Rachel continued.
"She said you were busy."
Daniel gripped the steering wheel.
He searched through his memory.
The phone call.
The night before Emma's school event.
The work email.
The argument about money.
Mara saying she needed to talk.
Him saying they would talk tomorrow.
Tomorrow had become a word people used when they did not understand they were spending something they could never get back.
"What did she tell you?"
Rachel was quiet.
"She thought someone was changing records."
"At the transportation office?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because she found something."
"What?"
"I don't know."
Daniel almost interrupted.
Then he stopped.
Rachel sounded different.
Not like someone hiding information.
Like someone carrying it.
"You do know something."
"I know she was afraid."
"Rachel."
"I know she kept asking herself if she was making things worse."
Daniel looked out the windshield.
Traffic moved around him.
People drove to work.
People bought coffee.
People argued about parking spaces.
The world continued.
"What happened the night she died?"
Rachel did not answer immediately.
When she finally spoke, her voice was smaller.
"She called me."
Daniel's chest tightened.
"After she left work?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
Rachel swallowed.
"She said she had proof."
Daniel sat completely still.
"What proof?"
"I don't know."
"You just said she had proof."
"She said she found something."
"Rachel."
"I asked her what it was."
"And?"
"She said she would show me when she got home."
Daniel looked at his hands.
The same hands that had held the steering wheel when he drove to identify her body.
The same hands that signed paperwork he barely read.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
Rachel's answer came after a long silence.
"Because when the police came, they told me her car went off the road."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"No."
Rachel's voice cracked.
"It doesn't."
She took a breath.
"I was angry."
"At who?"
"At her."
Daniel stared ahead.
"At Mara?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because she always thought she could carry everything herself."
Daniel remembered that.
Mara fixing broken things without asking for help.
Mara staying late at work because someone needed her.
Mara saying she was fine in a tone that meant she was absolutely not fine.
Rachel continued.
"And then she died, and I thought maybe if I had taken her seriously sooner, maybe she would have told me more."
Daniel looked at the phone.
"Rachel."
"I know."
Her voice softened.
"That's the problem, Daniel."
"What is?"
"We all have a version of the night where we could have saved her."
The sentence stayed between them.
Neither of them knew what to do with it.
Finally Rachel said, "Send me what you found."
Daniel looked at the flash drive on the passenger seat.
"Why?"
"Because if Mara was right, someone wanted this buried."
May you like
A pause.
"And if she was wrong, we need to know that too."
