Then she added softly:

“And Mom? I love you.”

The recording ended.

I pressed the phone against my chest.

“She never got the chance to tell me,” I whispered.

Mr. Halden said nothing. He simply waited.

A moment later, his office phone rang. His expression changed as he listened to his assistant.

“Please ask the detective to come in,” he said.

I looked up.

“Detective?”

He turned toward me.

“Mrs. Ellis, the police would like to speak with us about Emma’s final hours.”

Detective Sarah Whitcomb entered the office carrying a slim folder. She appeared to be in her forties, with tired eyes and a calm, professional manner.

After shaking my hand, she offered her condolences.

“Mrs. Ellis, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

I nodded, unable to find much to say.

She sat across from me and explained that the investigation into Emma’s collision was still open. New information had come to light, and the authorities needed to verify several details.

My heart began beating faster.

“Are you saying her accident wasn’t an accident?”

The detective paused.

“We haven’t reached a final conclusion about every factor involved.”

She opened her folder and explained that Emma’s car had been traveling along County Road 18 shortly after eight in the evening. The road was wet, and visibility was limited. The initial evidence had appeared consistent with a loss of control.

However, investigators had recently received information suggesting Emma had felt threatened during a domestic dispute.

I gripped my handbag.

“Threatened by whom?”

Detective Whitcomb glanced briefly at Mr. Halden before continuing.

“Did your daughter ever tell you about difficulties in her marriage?”

I lowered my eyes.

“Not everything. I think she was trying to spare me.”

The detective nodded.

“We’ve also received a statement from a neighbor who reported hearing an argument outside Emma’s home earlier that evening.”

My hands trembled.

“Was Evan there?”

“Yes.”

I closed my eyes.

The detective explained that the police were examining communications, vehicle information, and other available evidence. She emphasized that she didn’t want to make assumptions before the investigation supported them.

I understood what she meant, but my thoughts were already racing.

Emma had discovered a suspicious property document. She had contacted a lawyer. She had planned to tell me something important.

Then she died.

That afternoon, I went to the home Emma had shared with Evan.

It stood on a quiet street lined with maple trees. Her shoes were still beside the front door. A yellow raincoat hung from a hook, and a shopping list remained unfinished on the kitchen counter.

Milk.

Apples.

Baby detergent.

Blue socks for Oliver.

I pressed my hand over my mouth.

My grandson would never wear those socks. Emma would never carry him through that front door.

The future she had been preparing for had disappeared.

About twenty minutes later, Evan arrived.

He stopped when he saw me standing in the kitchen.

“What are you doing here?”

I turned toward him.

“I came to collect a few of Emma’s belongings.”

His expression immediately became guarded.

“You should have called first.”

“Why?”

“Because this is my house.”

I looked at him.

“Emma lived here too.”

He sighed.

“Margaret, please don’t start an argument.”

I explained that I only wanted some photographs and personal keepsakes. Mr. Halden had advised me to arrange the collection properly.

Evan glanced toward the hallway.

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