Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEADMy wife, Claire, had died eleven months earlier.
Everyone knew the story.
A wet road.
A sudden collision.
No witnesses.
One phone call from the hospital.
A funeral three days later.
I had spent months convincing myself that grief had distorted the memories.
That maybe I had missed signs.
Maybe Claire had been unhappy.
Maybe she'd been tired.
Maybe she'd simply made one terrible decision behind the wheel.
But Juniper was telling me something impossible.
“She said Mommy didn't die.”
I knelt in front of her.
“What did Aunt Tabitha say?”
Juniper looked down.
“She said Mommy went away.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Did Mommy talk to her?”
Juniper nodded.
“Before she went away.”
My heart hammered.
“Did you see her?”
Juniper nodded again.
I couldn't understand.
“Tell Daddy everything.”
Juniper took a breath.
“Mommy came to the house at night.”
Willa covered her mouth.
“How many times?”
“Three.”
I stared.
“When?”
Juniper counted on her fingers.
“Before Christmas. After Christmas. And before my birthday.”
My wife's birthday.
My daughter's birthday.
Dates nobody in the family talked about anymore.
“What did Mommy say?”
Juniper looked directly at me.
“She told me to listen to Aunt Willa.”
I turned.
Willa's face had gone pale.
“Why would Claire say that?”
“I don't know.”
I stepped toward Willa.
“You knew something.”
“I suspected.”
“That's not an answer.”
She swallowed.
“Claire called me two weeks before the accident.”
My chest tightened.
“What did she say?”
“That she was afraid.”
“Of whom?”
Willa looked at the door.
“Your father.”
I felt the floor disappear beneath me.
“Why?”
“She said he was forcing her to sign documents.”
“What documents?”
“Property transfers.”
I laughed once, but there was nothing funny about it.
“That makes no sense.”
Willa reached into her bag.
She pulled out an old envelope.
My wife's handwriting was on the front.
My name.
I opened it.
Inside was one page.
Ethan,
If you are reading this, something went wrong. Do not trust Dad. Do not trust Tabitha. Most importantly, protect Juniper from anyone who says they are helping you.
My hands shook.
At the bottom was a final sentence.
The inhaler is not the reason they are afraid. It is the evidence.
I read it twice.
“What does that mean?”
Willa whispered, “I think the inhaler is connected to Claire's death.”
Then we heard a noise outside.
A car door slammed.
Headlights swept across the windows.
Someone had arrived.
Juniper grabbed my hand.
“Daddy.”
“What?”
She whispered:
“That's Grandpa's car.”
I looked through the curtains.
My father's car was parked at the curb.
But my father was not driving.
A woman stepped out.
May you like
She turned toward the house.
And I knew her.
