Chapter 4 - THE MAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
I spent the rest of the night staring at the photograph.
Sarah was smiling.
That was what hurt most.
She looked alive.
Not like the photograph on the memorial table at her funeral.
Not like the picture Mark had framed in Lily's room.
This Sarah looked happy.
She stood outside a restaurant in a dark coat, one hand resting on the strap of her handbag.
Vanessa stood beside her.
And behind them stood a man I hadn't seen in years.
Daniel Reeves.
The first time I met Daniel, he had been standing beside Sarah at a charity fundraiser.
She introduced him as a consultant.
I remembered almost nothing about him.
Except his eyes.
Cold.
Observant.
The kind of eyes that seemed to notice everything without revealing anything.
At Sarah's funeral, Daniel had stood in the back.
He hadn't spoken to anyone.
He left before the service ended.
I had assumed he was a colleague.
I had never asked.
Now I wondered why.
At six in the morning, I drove to Mark's house.
He opened the door looking exhausted.
"Dad?"
I held up the photograph.
His face changed immediately.
"Where did you get that?"
"It was left at my house."
"By who?"
"I don't know."
He took the photograph.
His hand began trembling.
"Where was this taken?"
"Three weeks before Sarah died."
He stared at Vanessa.
"Why was she with Sarah?"
"That's what I'm asking you."
Mark sat down.
I followed him.
"Tell me everything."
"I don't know everything."
"Then tell me what you do know."
He looked at the photograph again.
"Sarah had been acting strange."
"How?"
"She kept getting calls."
"From who?"
"Unknown numbers."
"Did she tell you?"
"She told me someone was following her."
I felt my chest tighten.
"You told me she was stressed."
"I lied."
"Why?"
"Because I didn't want you to blame yourself."
"For what?"
"She came to me the night before the accident."
"What did she say?"
Mark closed his eyes.
"She said she had found something."
"What?"
"I don't know."
"Mark."
"I swear."
"Then what did she say?"
He looked at me.
"She said, 'If something happens to me, don't trust the people who say it was an accident.'"
I sat down.
Three years of grief suddenly felt like a lie built on top of another lie.
"Did she name anyone?"
"No."
"Did she mention Vanessa?"
"No."
"Daniel?"
Mark froze.
"You know him?"
"He was at the funeral."
Mark stared at me.
"He wasn't supposed to be."
"What does that mean?"
"I asked him to leave."
"Why?"
"Because Sarah told me never to trust him."
I looked at the photograph.
"Then why was he standing with her?"
"I don't know."
There was a long silence.
Then Mark said:
"There's something else."
"What?"
"Sarah's car."
"What about it?"
"The brakes."
I stared at him.
"What about the brakes?"
"They had been inspected two weeks before the accident."
"By whom?"
"Daniel."
My stomach dropped.
"Why would an insurance consultant inspect her car?"
"He wasn't just an insurance consultant."
"Then what was he?"
Mark shook his head.
"I don't know."
"You've known this for three years."
"I was afraid."
"Of Daniel?"
"No."
He looked upstairs.
"Of Vanessa."
We found Vanessa in the kitchen.
She was making coffee as though nothing had happened.
She looked at me.
"Thomas."
I placed the photograph on the counter.
Her face changed.
Only for a second.
But it changed.
"Where did you get that?"
"That's my question."
She picked up the photograph.
Her fingers trembled.
"Who gave this to you?"
"I asked you a question."
She looked at Mark.
"Did you give him this?"
"No."
Vanessa put the photograph down.
"Someone is trying to destroy this family."
I laughed bitterly.
"You destroyed your own story last night."
"That video doesn't prove what you think."
"It proves you pushed the sculpture."
"It doesn't prove why."
"Then explain why."
She said nothing.
I stepped closer.
"Did you know Sarah?"
Her eyes moved toward Mark.
Then back to me.
"Everyone knew Sarah."
"Did you work with her?"
"No."
"Did you meet her before she died?"
"No."
Mark looked at her.
"Vanessa."
She turned.
"What?"
"Did you know my wife?"
A long silence.
Then she said:
"Not personally."
It was the wrong answer.
Because I had seen the photograph.
She was standing beside Sarah.
Not across a room.
Not in the background.
Beside her.
Like they knew each other.
I took the photograph back.
"You're lying."
Vanessa's expression hardened.
"Be careful, Thomas."
"Why?"
"Because you're digging into something you don't understand."
"Then help me understand."
She looked at Mark.
"I married you because I loved you."
"That isn't an answer."
"I loved you."
"Did you know Sarah?"
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
"Yes."
Mark went completely still.
"How?"
Vanessa sat down.
"I knew her through work."
"You said you didn't."
"I was scared."
"Of what?"
"Of exactly this."
She looked at me.
"Sarah was investigating someone."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I don't care what you believe."
Mark leaned forward.
"What was she investigating?"
Vanessa hesitated.
Then she whispered:
"Money."
"What money?"
"Insurance claims."
Mark's face went pale.
"What does that have to do with Sarah's death?"
Vanessa looked at him.
"Everything."
Before anyone could speak, the front door slammed open.
Lily ran into the house.
She was crying.
"Grandpa!"
I rushed toward her.
"What happened?"
She grabbed my hand.
"Vanessa went into my room."
Vanessa stood.
"Lily—"
"You were looking for something!"
"What was I looking for?"
Lily pointed toward the stairs.
"The box."
Vanessa froze.
Mark turned toward her.
"What box?"
Lily looked at me.
Then at her father.
"I saw what's inside."
"What?"
She began crying harder.
"Pictures."
"What pictures?"
"Mommy."
Vanessa whispered:
"No."
Lily continued.
"There were pictures of Mommy."
"From when?"
"Before she died."
I looked at Vanessa.
She was completely white.
Lily pulled something from behind her back.
A small black memory card.
"I took this."
Vanessa screamed:
"Lily!"
She lunged forward.
I stepped between them.
Mark caught Vanessa by the arm.
"What the hell is on that card?"
Vanessa struggled.
"Give it to me!"
"No."
"Mark, you don't understand!"
"What don't I understand?"
She stopped.
Her eyes filled with tears.
Then she said:
"Your wife didn't die in an accident."
Silence.
Mark released her arm.
"What?"
May you like
Vanessa looked at him.
"Sarah was killed."
