Maya did not move.
The garage door continued climbing, its motor grinding overhead. Beyond it, rain blurred the driveway into a sheet of silver. The black car remained parked at the curb, engine running.
She lowered the photograph.
For several seconds, she could hear nothing except the rain and the uneven hum of the garage door.
Then the headlights switched off.
Maya stepped backward.
Her first thought was Lily.
She turned toward the house.
The kitchen door stood open, and beyond it the dark hallway led toward the stairs. Lily was upstairs. Alone.
Maya grabbed her phone and hurried inside.
She locked the back door, then the kitchen door, then checked the front entrance twice. Only after the deadbolt clicked into place did she allow herself to breathe.
Her phone was still in her hand.
She called Rachel.
Rachel answered on the fourth ring.
“Maya?”
“Are you home?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Is Dad there?”
Another pause, longer this time.
“No.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
Maya looked through the kitchen window.
The black car was still there.
“Someone is outside my house.”
Rachel went quiet.
“What kind of car?”
“Black sedan.”
“Don't go outside.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Is Lily with you?”
“Upstairs.”
“Lock her bedroom door.”
Maya frowned.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
There was something in Rachel’s voice that Maya had never heard before.
Fear without anger.
Maya climbed the stairs two at a time.
Lily was asleep exactly where Maya had left her, one arm tucked beneath the pillow. Maya checked the window and locked it.
Then she closed the bedroom door.
“Mama?”
Maya froze.
Lily opened her eyes.
“I'm here.”
“Is somebody coming?”
“No.”
Lily studied her face.
“You're scared.”
Maya sat beside her.
“I'm worried. That's different.”
Lily shook her head.
“It looks the same.”
Maya almost smiled.
Instead, she kissed her forehead.
“I need you to stay here for a little while.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to make a phone call.”
Lily nodded.
Maya stepped into the hallway and closed the door.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Rachel appeared.
DO NOT CALL DAD.
Maya stared at it.
She typed back.
Why?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally, Rachel sent:
Because he already knows you have the key.
Maya's stomach dropped.
She looked toward the staircase.
How?
The answer came from the photograph.
Robert.
Her mother's husband.
Her father's former friend.
The man who had stood beside her grandfather on the day of the fire.
The man who had claimed he had never met him.
Maya opened the photograph again.
The three men were standing outside the workshop, but now that she looked carefully, she noticed something else.
Her grandfather's right hand rested against the shoulder of the man in the center.
Robert stood a step behind them.
His expression was not casual.
He was watching the other two men.
Maya enlarged the photograph on her phone.
A fourth figure appeared faintly in the workshop window.
A woman.
Maya couldn't make out her face.
She took another picture of the photograph and sent it to Rachel.
Who is the woman?
Rachel answered almost immediately.
I don't know.
Maya looked at the date.
Twenty-six years ago.
The year before her grandfather died.
The year before the workshop burned.
She returned to the garage window.
The black sedan was gone.
She had not heard it leave.
That frightened her more.
Maya waited another ten minutes before going downstairs.
She checked every window.
Nothing.
No movement.
No footsteps.
No car.
Only rain.
She went into the garage and looked through the cardboard box again.
At the bottom was a folded property map.
She opened it across the workbench.
The old family property was outlined in faded blue ink. The workshop stood behind the house, connected to a narrow underground passage marked in pencil.
Maya followed the line.
It ended at a small rectangle.
Storage.
Her grandfather had written a number beside it.
17.
Maya's breath caught.
The key in her pocket had no number.
But she remembered another detail from the dinner.
Her mother had said the storage room had been sealed after the fire.
Maya stared at the map.
If the room had been sealed, why was there a passage leading to it?
And why had her grandfather marked it separately from the workshop?
She photographed the map.
Then she called Rachel again.
This time Rachel answered immediately.
“What?”
“I found a map.”
“Where?”
“In Grandpa's things.”
“What does it show?”
“An underground passage.”
Rachel said nothing.
“Rachel.”
“I knew there was something beneath the workshop.”
“You knew?”
“Only because Dad told me.”
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I thought he was lying.”
Maya sat down.
“What did he tell you?”
“That your grandfather didn't die with everything he knew.”
Maya looked at the photograph.
“Did he say what was hidden?”
“No.”
“Did he say who the man in the photograph was?”
“No.”
“Rachel, I'm looking at a picture of Robert standing beside Grandpa.”
Silence.
“I know.”
Maya stopped breathing for a second.
“You know?”
“I saw that photograph years ago.”
“Where?”
“In Dad's study.”
Maya's grip tightened around the phone.
“Why would Dad have it?”
“Because he was trying to prove something.”
“What?”
“That Robert was involved in the fire.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Maya stood abruptly.
“You said Dad knew about the trust.”
“He did.”
“You said he was investigating.”
“He was.”
“And now you're telling me he thought Robert started the fire?”
“I said he was trying to prove it.”
Maya looked toward the ceiling.
Lily was upstairs.
Her daughter was asleep in a house that suddenly felt unfamiliar.
“Rachel, what happened after the fire?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear I'm not.”
“Then why does Mom keep protecting Robert?”
Rachel's voice dropped.
“Because she believes he protected her.”
“From what?”
Rachel hesitated.
“From your father.”
Maya closed her eyes.
Every answer seemed to create another locked door.
Then a soft sound came from upstairs.
Maya opened her eyes.
She heard Lily's bedroom door creak.
“Maya?”
Rachel was still speaking.
“Maya, what happened?”
Maya didn't answer.
She was staring at the staircase.
The upstairs hallway was dark.
Then Lily appeared at the top step.
“Mama?”
Maya rushed toward her.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
Lily pointed behind her.
“There was someone at my window.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: Lily’s Window Was Locked From the Inside, Yet the Message Waiting There Proved Someone Had Reached Her
The Dinner Was Supposed to Mend Our Family Until My Daughter’s Cry Changed Everything
Part 5 of 20
