Chapter 8 - SOMEONE WAS STILL THERE
Police cleared every room.
Nothing.
No person.
No open window.
No broken door.
Then one officer found the answer.
The attic.
A wireless router had been hidden behind an insulation panel and connected to our home system.
Someone could access our cameras without being inside.
Daniel hadn’t been paranoid.
Someone really had been watching us.
Madison’s bedroom.
Our kitchen.
The basement.
Me.
My skin crawled.
“Who installed it?” I asked.
The technician examined the device.
“Hard to say.”
Ryan stood in the hallway.
“Trevor knows networking.”
Claire looked at him.
“So does half the world.”
“He set up the company system.”
I turned toward Ryan.
“You knew he had access to our house?”
“No.”
“Daniel?”
“Maybe.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently Daniel knew everything except how to tell his wife.”
Madison heard me.
“Daddy was protecting us.”
I looked down.
She wasn’t crying.
That somehow hurt more.
“I know.”
“No, you’re mad at him.”
I knelt.
“I am.”
Her eyes widened.
“You can be mad at someone who died?”
“Yes.”
“Is that bad?”
“No.”
I pulled her close.
“It means you loved them enough for what they did to matter.”
She held me.
For five seconds, the crime disappeared.
Then someone pounded on the front door.
Three hard knocks.
Police drew weapons.
A woman stood outside.
Mid-thirties.
Brown coat.
Hair pulled back.
Terrified.
“I need Sarah Carter.”
Claire looked at me.
The woman raised both hands.
“My name is Hannah Cole.”
Ryan turned white.
“Hannah?”
I looked at him.
“You know her?”
“She handles payroll.”
Hannah stepped inside.
“I was the one who called the phone at the funeral home.”
Claire shut the door.
“You had Ryan’s number?”
“I had one of Ryan’s old burner phones.”
Ryan looked stunned.
“My what?”
Hannah pulled a phone from her pocket.
“Daniel gave it to me.”
Ryan cursed.
“He stole that from my office.”
Hannah looked at him.
“No. Trevor did.”
Ryan stopped.
She turned to me.
“Daniel asked me to help him figure out where the money was going.”
“You knew?”
“For six weeks.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“He told me not to.”
I felt anger again.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What did Daniel want you to do?”
“If he died, I was supposed to call the lockbox phone the moment it came online.”
“That’s why caller ID said Ryan?”
She nodded.
“Daniel saved this number under Ryan’s name because it was Ryan’s burner. Trevor used it to contact betting accounts and fake vendors.”
Ryan looked sick.
Hannah continued.
“Daniel wanted whoever was in the room to think Ryan was somehow calling himself.”
“Why?”
“To scare the guilty person.”
Claire asked, “Which guilty person?”
Hannah looked directly at Evelyn.
Daniel’s mother had joined us after the funeral home but had barely spoken.
Hannah said:
“Daniel thought Evelyn knew more than she admitted.”
Evelyn’s knees almost buckled.
Then Hannah reached into her bag.
“There’s something else.”
She placed a printed photo on the table.
It showed the front of my house.
The timestamp was 11:18 p.m.
The night Daniel died.
Three people stood near the driveway.
Trevor.
Detective Miller.
And Evelyn.
But that wasn’t what made me stop breathing.
There was a fourth figure in the upstairs window.
A little girl.
Madison.
My daughter whispered:
“I remember now.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
Her lips trembled.
“Daddy didn’t fall first.”
The room went silent.
May you like
Madison whispered:
“Somebody pushed him.”
