Chapter 5
The photograph of the unknown woman stayed in my mind all night.
She stood beside Marcus outside a roadside diner.
Her face was turned slightly away from the camera.
But I could see enough to know she was young.
Maybe thirty.
She had dark hair pulled beneath a knit cap.
And she was holding a folder.
My husband had been meeting someone in secret.
Someone connected to dangerous company records.
And three years later, my daughter was being threatened over the same information.
I stared at the photograph until my eyes hurt.
Then I turned it over.
On the back was a date.
October 14.
The day before Marcus died.
Beneath it were two initials.
N.W.
I looked toward Patrice.
She was sitting beside me.
"Do you know who she is?"
Patrice shook her head.
"No."
I swallowed.
"I keep thinking about everything Marcus didn't tell me."
My sister placed a hand on mine.
"He might've been trying to protect you."
I looked down.
"That's what Maya thought she was doing."
Patrice sighed.
"And look how frightened she became."
I nodded.
Secrets had nearly destroyed us.
But now I was determined to uncover the truth.
***
Detective Brooks contacted the company where Marcus had worked.
The business was called Southeastern Fleet Services.
It inspected and maintained commercial vehicles used by transportation contractors throughout Georgia.
Marcus had worked there for eleven years.
Curtis Bell was still employed as a regional operations supervisor.
Brooks confirmed that Curtis had access to several properties connected to the company.
She also discovered something disturbing.
The heavy brown boots seen in the photograph were part of the company's standard safety equipment.
That meant several employees might own similar boots.
Maya's identification of Curtis's voice remained important, but it wasn't conclusive.
I appreciated that Brooks refused to jump to conclusions.
Still, I couldn't forget the stranger standing beside my daughter's bed.
I couldn't forget his threat.
"Your mother pays for it."
Whoever he was, he knew us.
And he wanted something Maya had found.
***
Two days later, a technician recovered additional data from a backup of Marcus's old laptop.
Maya had remembered that Dad used an external cloud account for photographs.
Some of his files were still there.
Brooks arranged for the relevant records to be preserved.
Among them was an audio recording dated the evening before Marcus's death.
She invited me to the station.
Patrice came with me.
We sat inside a small interview room.
Brooks placed a tablet on the table.
"Angela, this may be difficult to hear."
I nodded.
"I need to know."
She pressed play.
At first, I heard traffic.
Then a man's voice.
Marcus.
My breath caught.
It had been three years since I'd heard him speak outside old family videos.
His voice sounded tired.
But steady.
"I'm not signing off on those trucks, Curtis."
Another man answered.
"You don't understand the pressure we're under."
Marcus spoke again.
"Those brakes are unsafe."
A pause.
Then the second man said:
"You have a family. Think about them."
My entire body went cold.
Marcus answered sharply.
"Don't bring my family into this."
The recording continued.
The men argued about inspection reports.
Several vehicles had allegedly been approved despite mechanical defects.
Marcus refused to change his findings.
Then the second man said something that made my blood freeze.
"You keep digging, you're going to regret it."
A door slammed.
The recording ended.
I stared at the tablet.
Tears rolled down my face.
Patrice held my hand.
Brooks looked at me.
"Do you recognize the second voice?"
I swallowed.
"I think it's Curtis."
She nodded.
"We'll compare it with verified recordings."
I looked at her.
"Was he threatening Marcus?"
"That's one possible interpretation. We need to establish the context."
I understood.
But in my heart, I already knew Marcus had been afraid.
And he'd had a reason.
***
That afternoon, Maya and I sat together at Patrice's kitchen table.
I told her the police had recovered some of Dad's files.
I didn't play the threatening recording for her.
She'd already heard enough.
Instead, I told her investigators were taking the information seriously.
Maya looked relieved.
Then she started crying.
"I thought nobody would believe me."
I hugged her.
"I believe you."
She buried her face against my shoulder.
"Mom, I didn't want to keep secrets."
"I know."
"I just wanted Dad to have justice."
My eyes filled.
"So do I."
We sat together for a long time.
Then I asked her something I'd been avoiding.
"Why did you choose Mrs. Harris?"
Maya wiped her cheeks.
"Because Dad left her name in a note."
I frowned.
"What note?"
She opened her backpack.
From a hidden pocket, she pulled out a small folded piece of paper.
I stared at it.
"Where did you find that?"
"In Dad's laptop case."
She handed it to me.
The paper was worn.
Across it, Marcus had written:
If anything happens, contact Lori. She knows where the originals are.
My heart began pounding.
The originals.
Not copies.
Original documents.
I looked at Maya.
"Did you show this to the detective?"
She shook her head.
"I forgot."
I called Brooks immediately.
She asked us to photograph the note and preserve the original.
Then she said she'd speak with Lorraine again.
***
The next morning, Brooks called with unexpected news.
Lorraine had admitted that she still possessed a sealed storage box belonging to Marcus.
She'd kept it after his death because she'd been frightened.
Inside were documents, photographs, and a small recording device.
Investigators had collected the box.
But one item stood out.
A handwritten list of vehicle identification numbers.
Beside several entries were the letters R.L.
I asked what they meant.
Brooks answered:
"We're still investigating."
I felt frustrated.
Every answer seemed to create another question.
Then she told me about the missing woman.
Her name was Natalie Walker.
She'd been a mechanic employed by one of Southeastern Fleet Services' contractors.
She had reported concerns about falsified repairs shortly before Marcus died.
After his crash, she left Georgia.
Her family believed she had moved to North Carolina.
Brooks was trying to locate her.
I closed my eyes.
If Natalie was alive, she might know what happened.
And if she had been present that night, she might be the only witness who could tell us the truth.
Then Brooks said something that made my stomach drop.
"Angela, Natalie's last known address was recently searched by an unknown person."
I gripped the phone.
"What?"
"The property manager reported signs of forced entry."
I looked toward Maya, who was sitting at the kitchen table.
My daughter was drawing quietly.
For the first time, she looked almost peaceful.
I turned away before answering.
"Do you think someone is looking for her?"
Brooks paused.
"We can't rule that out."
Then she added:
"Whoever has been threatening Maya may be trying to find the same evidence we're looking for."
I stared at the wall.
May you like
And I realized the danger wasn't over.
Not even close.
