Green Lake smelled like wet cedar and cold wind—cleaner than anything in my house had felt lately. Ducks drifted across the gray water like small, oblivious ghosts. People jogged past in bright raincoats, laughing, living, breathing.
Normal.
Everything I was no longer allowed to be.
Lena sat on a bench near the shoreline, hood pulled low, sleeves swallowed by the sleeves of her oversized sweater. She looked even smaller than usual, her sneakers tapping anxiously against the damp concrete.
When she saw me, she stood so quickly she almost stumbled.
“Emily,” she whispered, glancing over my shoulder as if Michael might materialize from the fog.
“It’s okay,” I said, though nothing was okay. Not after last night. Not after watching Michael crush my father’s will under his heel like it was nothing but trash.
Lena wrapped her arms around herself. “We shouldn’t stay long. He checks my location sometimes.”
My stomach clenched. “He tracks you?”
She nodded once, lips tight. “Just… sit. Please.”
We sat. The bench was cold enough to sting. Wind rippled the lake, scattering the thin drizzle into mist.
Lena’s fingers twisted together. “Emily, there’s something I didn’t tell you yesterday. About… about your dad.”
My chest tightened around the sealed letter still tucked in my coat. “What about him?”
She swallowed hard. “He was scared. Really scared. Weeks before he…” her voice cracked, “…before the accident. He stopped sleeping. He locked his office every night. He jumped at every sound.”
My breath caught. “Scared of what?”
Her answer was barely more than a breath.
“Michael.”
The world went silent. Even the wind seemed to pause.
“Lena,” I said, forcing my voice steady, “you can’t just drop something like that. Why would my father be afraid of him?”
“I don’t know everything.” She looked out at the lake, her reflection a trembling smear on the dark surface. “But I know he confronted Michael about something. Something big. They fought the night before your dad… before it happened.”
A blade of ice slid beneath my ribs. “You’re sure?”
She nodded vigorously. “And—there’s more. I saw Michael. The night your father died. He snuck into the study around two in the morning. He had a bag. Heavy.” She hugged herself tighter. “I heard him dragging something.”
Dragging.
My heart pounded painfully. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Her eyes filled, shimmering like the lake behind her. “Because Michael said if I talked, he’d have me sent away. Somewhere I ‘wouldn’t cause problems anymore.’” Her voice broke. “I’m so sorry, Emily.”
She wasn’t the one who should be sorry.
I reached across the bench and gently took her hand. “You did the right thing now.”
But as her fingers tightened around mine, I realized she wasn’t finished.
“There’s someone else you should talk to,” she whispered. “Detective Collins.”
My pulse skipped. “Aaron Collins? The officer who handled the case?”
Lena nodded. “He… didn’t think it was an accident.”
I stood without meaning to. Rain splattered across my boots. “Where is he?”
“Here,” a voice called behind me.
I turned.
Detective Aaron Collins was older than I remembered—more gray at his temples, deeper lines around his eyes—but the same steady, unreadable expression. He wore a black rain jacket and stood with his hands tucked into his pockets, watching me with the guarded caution of someone who’d seen too much.
“Emily Hart,” he said softly. “It’s been a while.”
“Aaron,” I managed, trying to swallow the sudden dryness in my throat. “I need answers.”
His gaze flicked to Lena, then back to me. “I figured as much.”
He joined us at the bench but didn’t sit, staying alert, scanning the path as joggers and dog-walkers passed. “First,” he said, voice low, “you should know I didn’t close your father’s case.”
My blood chilled. “But the file—”
“Was taken off my desk,” he finished. “Three days after I reported irregularities. And a day later, I got a call from my captain telling me to classify the death as an accident and drop it.”
My fingers curled around the envelope in my coat. “Who pressured them?”
His eyes hardened. “Your brother.”
“Stepbrother,” I hissed, before I could stop myself.
Aaron’s jaw clenched. “Michael made it clear you were in a fragile emotional state, and that he didn’t want you disturbed with unnecessary speculation. He claimed to have influence with the board that funds half the department’s community programs.”
I stared at him. “So he bought you off?”
“No,” Aaron said sharply. “He bought off everyone above me.”
For a moment, only the soft slap of water against the dock filled the silence.
Lena leaned closer to me, whispering, “We shouldn’t stay in one place too long. If Michael notices—”
“He’s not omniscient,” I said.
But the truth buzzed at the edge of my mind like an electric wire:
He was close. Too close. Always watching.
Aaron exhaled. “Emily, what exactly made you call me today?”
I hesitated. Then I told him about the will. Michael's smile. The threat threaded inside every word he’d spoken.
Aaron’s expression tightened with something between concern and anger. “This isn’t good. If he feels cornered—”
“He already feels in control,” I said bitterly. “That’s the problem.”
Aaron met my eyes. “Then you need to be careful. And you need to move fast.”
Wind lifted the ends of my hair. In the distance, thunder rolled over Seattle’s skyline.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
But before he could answer, Lena jerked upright, panic flaring in her eyes.
“Emily…” Her voice trembled. “He’s here.”
I turned.
Across the path, half-hidden by the trees, a tall figure stood watching us—motionless, dark eyes locked on mine.
Michael.