Chapter 2 - What Rachel Knew
I called the number back.
It went straight to voicemail.
I tried again.
Nothing.
Ethan watched me from the bed.
“Dad?”
I forced myself to put the phone down.
“Go to sleep, buddy.”
“But who was that?”
“Someone who knew Mom.”
“Was he a bad guy?”
I looked at my son.
“I don't know.”
That was the truth.
And suddenly, I hated how often I had been saying those words lately.
I don't know.
I didn't know why Melissa had poured something into Ethan's drink.
I didn't know why Grant had collapsed.
I didn't know what Rachel had been afraid of.
And I didn't know why a stranger had waited fourteen months to tell me.
I tucked Ethan into bed.
Then I went downstairs.
The house was finally quiet.
I turned off the music.
Collected the abandoned plates.
Closed the patio door.
The ordinary chores felt surreal.
I had spent months imagining my first night in this house.
I had pictured Rachel standing beside the fireplace.
Ethan running through the hallway.
Friends laughing.
Instead, there was a police report on my kitchen counter.
A toxicology investigation.
And a seven-year-old boy who had almost become the victim of something I couldn't yet understand.
At midnight, my phone rang again.
This time, the number was visible.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Carter.”
The same voice.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Daniel Reeves.”
“Where are you?”
“Not somewhere you should come to.”
I frowned.
“Then why call me?”
“Because your wife asked me to contact you if anything happened to Ethan.”
My heart stopped.
“What exactly did she ask you to do?”
“Give you something.”
“What?”
“A flash drive.”
I stood.
“Where is it?”
“In a locker.”
“Where?”
“Central Station.”
I grabbed my jacket.
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
His answer was sharp.
“Why?”
“Because if Melissa knows you have it, she will move faster.”
“Move faster toward what?”
He didn't answer.
“Mr. Carter, your wife spent six months investigating someone close to her.”
“Who?”
“Her sister.”
I closed my eyes.
“Melissa.”
“Yes.”
“What did Rachel find?”
“Not enough.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Rachel suspected Melissa was manipulating you financially.”
I sat down.
“I found the transfers.”
Silence.
“You did?”
“Forty-three thousand eight hundred dollars.”
Daniel exhaled.
“Then she continued after Rachel died.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Rachel left records.”
“What records?”
“That's what's on the drive.”
I stared at the clock.
“Why didn't you give it to me fourteen months ago?”
“Because Rachel told me not to.”
My jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“She said you wouldn't believe her.”
That hurt more than I expected.
“My wife thought I wouldn't believe her?”
“She said you loved Melissa like family.”
I looked around the empty kitchen.
Rachel's photograph sat on the counter.
Smiling.
Alive.
“You knew my wife.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I worked at the accounting firm handling the family trust.”
I went still.
“What family trust?”
Daniel didn't answer.
“Mr. Carter, there is something else you need to understand.”
“What?”
“The house you just moved into…”
I waited.
“…was purchased through a trust connected to Rachel.”
My heart began pounding.
“What?”
“You didn't buy that house entirely with your own money.”
I stared at the walls.
The renovation.
The mortgage.
The documents.
Everything.
“Then whose money did I use?”
“Rachel's.”
The line went silent.
I couldn't breathe.
“My wife didn't have that kind of money.”
“She did.”
“Where did it come from?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“Then tell me.”
Daniel lowered his voice.
“That's what Rachel was trying to find out.”
The call ended.
I didn't sleep.
At six in the morning, I drove to Central Station.
I left Ethan with Tyler.
The station was crowded.
People rushing to work.
Nobody looking at me.
Exactly what Daniel wanted.
Locker 217 was near the back.
I entered the code he gave me.
The door opened.
Inside was a small black envelope.
And a photograph.
I picked up the photograph first.
Rachel was standing outside a restaurant.
Beside her was Melissa.
But they weren't alone.
A man stood behind them.
Older.
Gray-haired.
I recognized him.
I had seen him once at Rachel's funeral.
Her father.
Except Rachel's father had supposedly died eleven years ago.
I turned the photograph over.
Three words were written on the back.
HE NEVER DIED.
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
Don't open the envelope here.
I looked around.
Nobody.
Then another message arrived.
You're being watched.
I put the photograph in my pocket.
Then I closed the locker.
As I walked toward the exit, I noticed a man standing near the newspaper kiosk.
Dark jacket.
Baseball cap.
Watching me.
I changed direction.
He followed.
I walked faster.
So did he.
I turned suddenly.
He disappeared behind a pillar.
I pulled out my phone.
Called Tyler.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Keep Ethan inside.”
“Why?”
“Because I think someone is following me.”
There was silence.
Then Tyler said,
“I'm looking out the window.”
“Do you see anything?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I ended the call.
When I returned home, the front door was locked.
The alarm was still active.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
I went straight upstairs.
Ethan was eating cereal.
Scout lay beneath the table.
“Dad!”
I hugged him.
He laughed.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing.”
But something was.
The black envelope sat in my pocket.
I waited until Ethan was distracted.
Then I went into my office.
Locked the door.
Opened it.
Inside was a flash drive.
A handwritten note.
And a second document.
I read the note first.
Rachel's handwriting.
I knew it instantly.
My hands began shaking.
If you're reading this, Melissa knows something happened.
I stopped breathing.
Below it:
Don't trust anyone who tells you my death was natural.
I read the next line.
Especially not the person who benefits from it.
Then the final sentence.
Daniel will tell you where to look next.
I stared at the page.
Rachel had known.
She had been preparing for this.
And somehow, she had known that one day Melissa would try to hurt Ethan.
I plugged the flash drive into my computer.
One folder appeared.
The name was simple.
RACHEL — FINAL
Inside were seventeen files.
The first was a video.
I clicked it.
Rachel appeared on screen.
She looked tired.
Scared.
And very much alive.
She stared directly into the camera.
“If you're watching this, I'm probably dead.”
I stopped the video.
Not because I wanted to.
Because I couldn't breathe.
Then I played it again.
Rachel continued.
“David, if you're seeing this, listen carefully.”
My name.
She had recorded it for me.
“Don't confront Melissa.”
My hands tightened.
“Don't accuse her.”
Rachel looked toward the door behind her.
“She is not working alone.”
Then the video froze.
The screen went black.
A single sentence appeared.
NEXT FILE REQUIRES PASSWORD.
I tried Rachel's birthday.
Wrong.
Ethan's birthday.
Wrong.
Our wedding anniversary.
Wrong.
Then I remembered something.
Rachel had always said our family had a secret word.
Something her mother taught her.
I typed it.
The file opened.
And the first image made me stand so quickly that my chair crashed backward.
It was a hospital photograph.
Rachel.
On the day she died.
But she wasn't unconscious.
She was sitting upright in the hospital bed.
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And standing beside her was Melissa.
Holding a syringe.
