“Daniel?” My voice cracked. “What… what is this? What did she throw into the lake? Why is all of this—” I gestured helplessly at the suitcase’s contents, still too stunned to process the details out loud.
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal. “I told her not to do it,” he muttered. “I told her we should talk to you first.”
“Talk to me about what?”
But he didn’t answer. Instead, he crouched beside the suitcase and stared at the items inside—neatly packed files, photocopies, photographs, a hard drive, and a single envelope labeled with my late husband’s name: Michael Hayes.
My throat tightened. “Why do you have your father’s files?”
Daniel let out a ragged sigh. “Mom… Dad wasn’t who you thought he was.”
The world tilted. “Daniel, your father was a good man. He—”
“He was involved in a federal investigation,” he cut in. “One that never closed.”
My breath stuttered. “That’s impossible. Michael didn’t—he wasn’t—”
“Please, listen.” Daniel’s eyes were red, desperate. “Years ago, Dad got wrapped up in something he couldn’t get out of. He kept documents—those.” He pointed to the suitcase. “They were evidence. Proof. And after he died, someone started looking for them.”
I shook my head slowly. “You’re scaring me.”
“We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you involved.” His voice cracked. “But last week, we got a message taped to our door. Someone knows we have the files. They threatened Natalie.”
Natalie. My pulse quickened. “So she tried to get rid of everything?”
“She panicked,” he whispered. “She thought destroying the evidence would protect us.”
“But why throw it into the lake? Why not burn it? Shred it? Anything else?”
He swallowed. “Because we weren’t alone. Someone was watching our house. She thought the lake was the only place we could get rid of it without being followed.”
My skin prickled. “Daniel, does this have something to do with the man I saw near the trail yesterday?”
He stiffened. “What man?”
I described him—tall, dark jacket, watching me too intently.
Daniel cursed under his breath. “Mom… that’s the same guy who left the threat.”
My legs went weak. “Daniel, what do they want from us?”
He looked at me, jaw clenched. “They want the part we’re still missing. The part Dad hid somewhere before he died.”
I stared at him. “What part?”
He hesitated—then whispered,
“The one only you can find.”
My mind reeled. “Daniel, I don’t know anything about federal investigations or missing evidence. Your father never told me—”
“He didn’t tell anyone,” Daniel said. “But he left clues. We think he hid the final piece somewhere only you would understand.”
I sat on a nearby bench, my hands shaking. Memories of Michael flooded back—quiet evenings, long walks, shared secrets that seemed so ordinary. Had he been trying to warn me all along without making me complicit?
Daniel picked up the envelope with Michael’s name. “We opened it,” he admitted. “It only had one thing inside.”
He handed it to me.
My breath hitched when I saw it: a tiny Polaroid photo of our old cabin in Vermont. Just the front porch—nothing unusual. Except for a single red X marked beneath the floorboards.
“That can’t be,” I whispered. “Michael loved that cabin. He never would’ve…” But my voice faded as realization set in. If he needed a hiding place no one would suspect, the cabin—our happy place—would be perfect.
Daniel lowered his voice. “Mom, they’re getting closer. If they find that piece before we do—”
A rustle in the bushes cut him off.
We both froze.
For a moment, neither of us breathed. Footsteps—slow, deliberate—circled the treeline. Someone was watching us.
“Mom,” Daniel whispered, “we need to leave. Now.”
I closed the suitcase, my heart pounding. Even though every instinct screamed to run, I couldn’t shake the feeling that once we left this lakeside clearing, nothing in our lives would ever be normal again.
As we hurried toward the parking lot, I glanced back. A figure stood at the water’s edge, half-hidden, staring after us. Whoever they were, they didn’t move. They didn’t need to.
They knew we were scared.
They knew we were desperate.
And they knew we were running out of time.
When we reached the car, Daniel gripped my shoulders. “Mom, we go to Vermont tonight. We find the piece. We end this.”
I nodded—though fear tightened every muscle in my body. Whatever Michael left behind had already torn our family apart… and now it was pulling me into a danger I never asked for.
But for my son—for Natalie—for the truth—I had no choice.
And as we drove off, I couldn’t help but wonder:
What did my husband hide under those floorboards? And how far would someone go to stop us from finding it?