Chapter 3 - THE NOTE IN SARAH'S HANDWRITING
I stared at the note until the words blurred.
DON'T TRUST VANESSA.
Three simple words.
Three words that should have meant nothing.
Instead, they felt like someone had reached through three years of grief and grabbed me by the throat.
"Where did you find this?"
Lily whispered:
"In her bedroom."
"When?"
"Last week."
"Why were you in Vanessa's bedroom?"
"I wasn't supposed to be."
"Then why?"
Lily hesitated.
"She told me to get a box."
"What box?"
"The one under the bed."
I looked at the note again.
"Did Vanessa see you?"
"No."
"Did she know you found this?"
Lily shook her head.
I folded the paper carefully.
"Does your dad know?"
"No."
"Why didn't you tell him?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Because Vanessa said Daddy wouldn't believe me."
I closed my eyes.
The same sentence.
Again.
Always the same fear.
Always the same manipulation.
But there was something I couldn't understand.
If Sarah had written that note before she died, why had it been inside Vanessa's bedroom?
And if Vanessa had found it after Sarah's death, why had she kept it?
Unless...
Unless she hadn't found it.
Unless someone had put it there.
I looked at Lily.
"Did you see anything else?"
She nodded.
"What?"
"A box."
"What kind of box?"
"Black."
"Where?"
"Under her bed."
"What was inside?"
"I don't know."
"You didn't open it?"
Lily shook her head.
"I heard Vanessa coming."
"What happened?"
"I hid in the closet."
My stomach tightened.
"You hid in her closet?"
Lily nodded.
"What did you hear?"
She looked at me.
"She was talking to someone."
"On the phone?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"What did she say?"
Lily lowered her voice.
"She said, 'He can't find out.'"
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Anything else?"
She thought for a moment.
"She said, 'Not after what happened to Sarah.'"
I couldn't breathe.
Then footsteps sounded upstairs.
Lily immediately stopped talking.
Mark appeared in the doorway.
He looked exhausted.
"Dad."
I stood.
"Mark."
His eyes moved toward Lily.
"Can I talk to you?"
Lily looked frightened.
I touched her shoulder.
"Go upstairs, sweetheart."
She didn't move.
"It's okay."
She finally stood.
Before leaving, she whispered:
"Don't let Vanessa know I told you."
"I won't."
She ran upstairs.
Mark waited until she disappeared.
Then he said:
"Vanessa wants you to leave."
I looked at him.
"After tonight?"
"She thinks you humiliated her."
"She blamed your daughter for something she did."
"She says she didn't."
"The camera says she did."
Mark rubbed his face.
"I don't know what to believe."
"You saw the footage."
"I saw a woman move a sculpture."
"Then what don't you believe?"
He looked away.
"I don't know."
That answer frightened me more than anything else.
"Mark."
He sat down.
"She says she was going to move it because it was unstable."
"She pushed it."
"Yes."
"And blamed Lily."
"Yes."
"So what exactly are you struggling to believe?"
He didn't answer.
I sat across from him.
"What's Vanessa told you?"
"Nothing."
"Then why are you defending her?"
"I'm not."
"You are."
He looked at me.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it."
Mark's eyes filled with something I hadn't seen in years.
Fear.
"Dad, there's something about Sarah's accident."
My body went still.
"What?"
"I've always thought there was something wrong."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I couldn't prove it."
"What do you mean?"
He looked toward the staircase.
"Three weeks before Sarah died, she called me."
"What did she say?"
"She said she was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Someone."
"Who?"
Mark swallowed.
"She wouldn't tell me."
I stared at him.
"Why?"
"She said the person was close to the family."
The room seemed colder.
"Did she mention Vanessa?"
"No."
"Then why are we talking about her?"
Mark stood.
"Because Vanessa was already in our lives."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"She knew Sarah."
I stared at him.
"How?"
Mark looked down.
"Through work."
"What kind of work?"
"Insurance."
I felt a chill.
"Vanessa worked in insurance?"
"Before we met."
"And Sarah knew her?"
"Apparently."
"Apparently?"
Mark didn't answer.
"Mark, what aren't you telling me?"
He walked to the kitchen counter.
"There was an insurance policy."
My heart sank.
"For Sarah?"
He nodded.
"Life insurance."
"How much?"
He hesitated.
"Five hundred thousand dollars."
I stared at him.
"And who was the beneficiary?"
Mark looked at me.
"I was."
"Only you?"
He nodded.
"Then why would Vanessa care?"
Mark's face changed.
"Because I changed it."
"When?"
"After Sarah died."
"To Vanessa?"
He didn't answer.
I already knew.
"Mark."
He whispered:
"Yes."
I stood.
"You made Vanessa the beneficiary of your life insurance?"
"After Sarah died."
"How much?"
"One million."
I couldn't speak.
Then I remembered something.
The crystal horse.
Three thousand dollars.
A woman obsessed with expensive objects.
A hidden note.
A dead woman.
A secret insurance policy.
And now my granddaughter saying Vanessa knew something about Sarah's death.
I walked toward the stairs.
Mark grabbed my arm.
"Where are you going?"
"To talk to Vanessa."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because she isn't the person you think she is."
I stared at him.
"Then who is she?"
He looked terrified.
"I don't know."
That night, I couldn't sleep.
At two seventeen in the morning, I heard footsteps outside my bedroom.
I sat up.
The hallway was dark.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
STOP ASKING ABOUT SARAH.
A second message appeared.
YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED THAT NIGHT.
Then a third.
BUT LILY DOES.
I jumped out of bed.
I called Mark.
No answer.
I called again.
Still nothing.
Then I heard a noise downstairs.
A soft click.
Like someone opening the front door.
I grabbed my jacket and went downstairs.
The door was open.
Nobody was there.
But on the porch was a small envelope.
My name was written across it.
THOMAS BENNETT
Inside was a photograph.
I stared at it.
It showed Sarah.
Three weeks before she died.
She was standing outside a restaurant.
Beside her was Vanessa.
But that wasn't what terrified me.
It was the man standing behind them.
Because I knew him.
He had been at Sarah's funeral.
May you like
And according to Mark...
He had never met her.
