Chương 7
Emma looked down.
"That is what people say when they are scared."
Daniel looked at her.
"Where did you hear that?"
"From Mom."
The answer caught him off guard.
"When?"
"After you two fought."
Daniel frowned.
"What fight?"
Emma gave a small, humorless laugh.
"You had a lot of fights, Dad."
The truth of that landed quietly.
Not like an accusation.
Like a fact they had both been avoiding.
"Which one?"
"The one about her work."
Daniel felt his chest tighten.
"When was that?"
"About a month before she died."
He searched his memory.
There had been so many conversations that month.
Bills.
Repairs.
His job.
Her late nights.
He remembered being irritated.
He remembered saying she cared more about fixing strangers' problems than being home.
He remembered her going silent.
"What did she say?"
Emma walked to the bookshelf.
She ran her fingers along the edge without looking at him.
"She said you always believed the easiest explanation because it hurt less."
Daniel looked away.
He deserved that.
But he also knew there was more.
"What was she working on?"
Emma pulled out a notebook.
"I don't know."
"Emma."
"I don't."
She opened it.
Most of the pages were blank.
Then she turned to the middle.
There were numbers.
Dates.
Names.
Daniel moved closer.
One name appeared several times.
Harlan Vale.
He recognized it.
Everyone in the county did.
Vale Engineering handled major road inspections and safety contracts.
Mara had worked with them.
Daniel picked up the notebook.
"What is this?"
Emma shook her head.
"I found it after the funeral."
"Where?"
"Inside her old sewing box."
Daniel looked at her.
"Why didn't you show me?"
Emma's jaw tightened.
"Because I showed you the first thing I found."
"What?"
"A message from Mom."
Daniel froze.
"What message?"
Emma looked at him.
"The one where she said she was scared."
Daniel stared.
"You never told me there was a message."
"I tried."
"When?"
"The night after the funeral."
The room became silent.
Daniel searched his memory.
That night was a blur.
People everywhere.
Phone calls.
Flowers.
His own mother telling him to sleep.
Emma crying upstairs.
"I don't remember."
"I know."
She said it softly.
That made it worse.
Daniel looked at the notebook again.
Harlan Vale.
A company.
A name.
A connection.
Not enough to understand.
Enough to know the mystery had a shape now.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He almost ignored it.
Then he answered.
"Hello?"
No one spoke.
Only breathing.
Daniel stood still.
"Who is this?"
The call ended.
A second later, a text appeared.
Daniel opened it.
There was one sentence.
Stop looking where she looked.
Emma saw his face change.
"What is it?"
Daniel handed her the phone.
She read the message.
Neither of them spoke.
Then another message arrived.
This one contained a photograph.
It was taken through a window.
Daniel recognized the angle immediately.
His house.
The photo showed him and Emma standing inside Mara's office.
The timestamp was from twelve minutes earlier.
Emma stepped away from the phone.
Someone had been outside.
Someone had been watching.
And now, for the first time since Mara died, Daniel understood the thing she had been afraid of.
The danger had not ended when she did.
It had simply waited for someone else to notice.
Daniel did not sleep in the office that night.
He considered it.
The thought came more than once.
Every time he looked toward the front windows and imagined someone standing outside in the dark, watching the house, staying patient, waiting for him to make another mistake, the couch seemed like a reasonable place to remain.
But Emma was upstairs.
And if someone really had been watching them, sitting in the living room until morning would not make him safer.
It would only make him feel like he was doing something.
He had learned the difference recently.
Doing something and actually moving forward were not always the same.
He locked every door before going upstairs.
Then he checked them again.
The second time, he stopped himself.
Mara would have noticed.
She would have said nothing.
That was the part that would have bothered him most.
She had a way of letting people discover their own mistakes.
Daniel lay awake for hours.
Every sound in the house felt amplified.
The pipes shifting.
A car passing on the road.
The refrigerator turning on downstairs.
At 3:17 in the morning, he finally sat up and opened his phone.
The photograph was still there.
He zoomed in.
The image was grainy.
The angle was wrong for someone standing across the street.
It looked like it had been taken closer.
Much closer.
From the edge of the driveway.
Maybe even from inside the yard.
Daniel got out of bed.
He walked to the window.
The backyard was dark.
Nothing moved.
He hated that his mind immediately started creating possibilities.
A person behind the fence.
A car parked nearby.
Someone hiding in the trees.
Fear was creative.
That was the problem.
Fear could build an entire world with no evidence.
At 6:10, he made coffee and found Emma already sitting at the kitchen table.
She looked exhausted.
"You didn't sleep."
It was not a question.
Daniel poured coffee.
"Neither did you."
"I am seventeen."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I am professionally bad at sleeping."
Despite everything, Daniel almost smiled.
Almost.
Then he saw the notebook beside her.
"Harlan Vale."
Emma nodded.
"I searched the name."
Daniel looked at her.
"On the internet?"
"Yes."
"What did you find?"
"Mostly normal stuff."
That answer bothered him.
"What does normal mean?"
"Company website. News articles. Charity events."
She pushed her laptop toward him.
There were photographs of Harlan Vale shaking hands with local officials.
A picture of him cutting a ribbon at a highway project.
A profile article describing him as a respected businessman.
Daniel stared at the screen.
May you like
The man looked exactly like someone who had never been accused of anything.
That was what made it difficult.
