“Martin is alive.”
I exhaled.
“Where?”
“In a hospital.”
“Was he attacked?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“We don’t know.”
“What happened?”
“He was struck from behind.”
“Is he conscious?”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“Then how do we know anything?”
“We found something beside him.”
He placed a plastic evidence bag on the table.
Inside was a small silver key.
I recognized it.
It was the key to Sarah’s safety deposit box.
The same box Sarah had mentioned in the video.
My heart started pounding.
“He had the key?”
“Yes.”
“Then he knew about the evidence.”
“Apparently.”
I looked at Detective Reynolds.
“Maybe David sent someone.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe Jessica.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe Martin was trying to run with the evidence.”
“That’s possible too.”
He leaned forward.
“But there’s something else.”
“What?”
“We found security footage from a gas station near Martin’s house.”
He pulled out his phone.
A video began playing.
A black SUV pulled into the station.
A man got out.
Baseball cap.
Dark jacket.
Face partially hidden.
He walked toward Martin’s car.
Then the footage ended.
“Can you identify him?”
“No.”
“License plate?”
“Covered.”
I stared at the screen.
Then I noticed something.
The man walked with a slight limp.
I had seen that walk before.
My stomach tightened.
“Stop.”
Detective Reynolds paused the video.
“Go back.”
He did.
The man walked past the camera.
I stared.
“No.”
“What?”
“I know him.”
“Who?”
I swallowed.
“David’s brother.”
Detective Reynolds frowned.
“Thomas?”
I nodded.
“Thomas Mitchell.”
David’s younger brother.
The man who had been at the funeral.
The man who had cried.
The man who had hugged me and said, “Sarah was the best thing that ever happened to our family.”
I suddenly remembered something.
At the funeral, Thomas had disappeared for nearly an hour.
He said he had gone outside to make a phone call.
I had thought nothing of it.
Now I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Detective Reynolds stood.
“Where is Thomas?”
I reached for my phone.
“I’ll call him.”
“No.”
The detective shook his head.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because if he is involved, we don’t want him to know we’re onto him.”
He took out his own phone.
“I’ll have someone locate him.”
Then Lily suddenly spoke from the couch.
“Grandma?”
I turned.
She was holding Sarah’s old stuffed rabbit.
“Mommy told me something else.”
My heart clenched.
“What did she tell you?”
“She said if Daddy gets angry…”
Lily’s eyes filled with tears.
“I’m supposed to go to the closet.”
I stood immediately.
“What closet?”
She pointed upstairs.
“The closet in Mommy’s room.”
Detective Reynolds looked at me.
We went upstairs.
Inside Sarah’s bedroom was a large walk-in closet.
Clothes still hung exactly as she had left them.
Shoes lined the floor.
Perfume bottles stood on a shelf.
I opened the closet door.
Lily walked inside.
She pointed to the back wall.
“Here.”
I pushed aside several dresses.
There was nothing.
Then Lily reached up.
She touched a small wooden panel.
“Mommy said push this.”
I pushed.
A section of the wall opened.
Inside was another compartment.
This one contained a small recording device.
And a handwritten note.
I opened it.
Mom,
If you’ve reached this, then Lily remembered what I taught her.
Please forgive me for keeping secrets from you.
I had no choice.
There is someone in this family helping David.
Someone I trusted.
Someone who has been inside my house many times.
Someone who knows exactly where I keep everything.
And if David is arrested, this person will try to destroy the remaining evidence.
Then Sarah wrote one final sentence.
Mom, the person you’re looking for isn’t Thomas.
I stopped breathing.
I looked at Detective Reynolds.
He stared at me.
We both read the sentence again.
Thomas wasn’t the person.
Then who?
I turned the page.
There was one final line.
It’s the person you trusted enough to invite to my funeral.
My mind raced through every face.
My sister.
My brother.
Sarah’s closest friend.
David’s parents.
Thomas.
Martin.
Jessica.
The pastor.
The neighbors.
The lawyer.
The family members.
Then one name came to me.
A person who had been standing beside me throughout the entire funeral.
A person who had comforted me.
A person who had helped hold Lily.
A person who had access to Sarah’s house.
A person who knew about the family finances.
A person Sarah had once called her second mother.
My blood turned cold.
I looked at Detective Reynolds.
“It’s…”
Before I could finish, the lights in the house suddenly went out.
Lily screamed.
A loud crash came from downstairs.
Then another.
Someone had entered the house.
Detective Reynolds immediately drew his weapon.
“Stay here.”
He moved toward the bedroom door.
I pulled Lily against me.
Footsteps echoed up the staircase.
Slow.
Careful.
One step.
Then another.
The footsteps stopped outside Sarah’s bedroom.
The door handle began to turn.
And then a familiar voice whispered from the other side:
“Barbara…”
I knew that voice.
It belonged to someone I had trusted for years.
Someone who had hugged me at my daughter’s funeral.
Someone who had told me Sarah was safe.
The door opened.
And the person standing there was holding a knife.
But what frightened me most wasn’t the knife.
It was the expression on her face.
Because she wasn’t surprised to see Detective Reynolds.
She had expected him.
She had expected me.
And she said:
“You shouldn’t have opened Sarah’s room.”
Detective Reynolds raised his weapon.
“Put the knife down.”
She smiled.
Then she looked directly at Lily.
“She left one thing out of her recordings.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
The woman stepped backward.
“Sarah didn’t discover the entire truth.”
She smiled again.
“Because she was never supposed to.”
Then she turned and ran.
Detective Reynolds chased her down the stairs.
I held Lily against my chest.
And for the first time since Sarah died, I realized something terrifying.
Sarah hadn’t been trying to expose one person.
She had been trying to uncover an entire network.
And someone was still willing to kill to keep its secret.
I looked down at Lily.
She was crying silently.
I kissed the top of her head.
“Your mommy protected you.”
Then I whispered the promise I should have made while Sarah was still alive.
“And I will protect you too.”
Outside, police sirens began screaming through the quiet Oak Brook neighborhood.
But somewhere in the darkness, the woman who knew Sarah’s final secret was running.
And she was carrying something with her.
Something Sarah had desperately wanted the police to find.
Something that could finally reveal who ordered my daughter’s death.
PART 5
The woman ran.
Detective Reynolds disappeared down the staircase after her, his footsteps pounding against the hardwood floor.
I stood frozen inside Sarah’s bedroom, holding Lily so tightly that I could feel her little heart beating against my chest.
Then I heard the front door slam.
“Stay here!” Detective Reynolds shouted.
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
For several seconds, all I could hear was Lily’s breathing.
Then she whispered:
“Grandma?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Was that Aunt Linda?”
My blood turned cold.
Linda.
Sarah’s closest friend.
The woman who had hugged me at the funeral.
The woman who had held Lily while I cried beside my daughter’s casket.
The woman Sarah had once called her “second mother.”
I looked toward the bedroom doorway.
“No,” I whispered.
But even as I said it, I knew.
It was Linda.
And suddenly, every strange moment of the past few weeks rearranged itself inside my mind.
Linda had been the first person to tell me Sarah’s death was probably an accident.
Linda had told me not to question David.
Linda had encouraged me to let Lily stay with her father.
Linda had even told me that Sarah had been under tremendous stress.
At the funeral, Linda had been the one who quietly suggested that perhaps Sarah had been struggling emotionally.
I had trusted her.
Sarah had trusted her.
And now Sarah’s final note had said:
It’s the person you trusted enough to invite to my funeral.
I lowered Lily onto the bed.
“Stay here.”
“But Grandma—”
“Don’t move.”
I ran downstairs.
Detective Reynolds was standing near the open front door.
Linda was gone.
One of his officers stood outside.
“She got away,” he said.
“Who is she?”
“Linda Parker.”
Detective Reynolds looked at me.
“I know.”
He walked back into the house.
His face was grim.
“Barbara, we need to talk.”
“What did she take?”
He looked at the stairs.
“What?”
“The thing Sarah said she was carrying.”
He nodded.
“We found the evidence compartment open.”
My stomach tightened.
“What was inside?”
“A second phone.”
I stared at him.
“Sarah had another phone?”
“Yes.”
“And Linda took it?”
“We believe so.”
I closed my eyes.
Sarah had hidden a phone from everyone.
Even me.
Detective Reynolds continued.
“But Linda made one mistake.”
“What?”
“She left something behind.”
He held up a small plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a piece of fabric.
Dark blue.
A tiny smear of blood stained one edge.
“Where did you find it?”
“Caught on the broken latch near the closet.”
I looked at it.
Then I remembered something.
Linda had been wearing a dark blue coat at the funeral.
I had seen her wearing it when she arrived.
But when she left the house that night, she wasn’t wearing it.
“Detective…”
“Yes?”
“Her coat.”
He looked at me.
“She left without it.”
He immediately turned to an officer.
“Find it.”
The officer ran upstairs.
Less than two minutes later, he returned carrying a garment bag.
Linda’s coat was inside.
The detective examined it.
Then his expression changed.
“There are blood traces.”
My hand covered my mouth.
“Sarah’s?”
“We’ll test it.”
But we didn’t need to wait long.
The next morning, the laboratory confirmed what we feared.
The blood belonged to Sarah.
And Linda’s fingerprints were all over the hidden compartment.
But that still wasn’t enough.
Detective Reynolds needed to know why.
And the answer came from a place none of us expected.
Martin Blake woke up.
Martin had survived the attack.
When Detective Reynolds questioned him, he initially refused to speak.
Then the detective placed Sarah’s photograph on the table.
Martin stared at it for nearly a minute.
Finally, he whispered:
“She knew.”
“Knew what?”
“Everything.”
“Start from the beginning.”
Martin lowered his head.
“I worked for Sarah.”
“We know.”
“No. You don’t understand.”
His voice cracked.
“I wasn’t helping David.”
Detective Reynolds leaned forward.
“Then who were you helping?”
Martin looked up.
“Sarah.”
Silence.
“She hired me to investigate David.”
My heart sank.
“All of it?”
Martin nodded.
“The transfers. The fake companies. The offshore accounts. Everything.”
“Then why did Sarah suspect you?”
“Because someone stole the files from my office.”
“Who?”
Martin hesitated.
