Chapter 3
The water ran clear over David’s hands, washing away the dirt, but the crimson tint lingered faintly around his cuticles, refusing to disappear completely. Sarah stared at the back of his head, remembering the freezing winter night in Chicago fifteen years ago when her brother, Daniel, had walked out of their apartment and never returned. At the time, the police had ruled it a missing persons case, but Sarah had always known the truth lived closer to home. The strongbox they had dug up contained Daniel’s old ledger, his favorite silver watch, and a series of threatening letters signed with initials that belonged to a man who now lived less than five miles away.
“It was Marcus,” Sarah finally admitted, her voice barely a whisper. She crossed her arms tightly over her pink shirt, feeling a sudden chill despite the summer heat. “He’s the one who bought the consulting firm across town last month. I saw him at the grocery store on Tuesday. He looked right at me, David. He didn’t say anything, but he knew I was here.”
David turned off the faucet, drying his hands hastily on a kitchen towel. He stared at his wife, a cold dread settling in his stomach. “Marcus Sterling? The guy who was investigated for embezzlement right before your brother vanished? That Marcus?”
“The very same,” Sarah nodded, her eyes welling with restrained tears that she refused to let fall. “He thinks the missing funds from the firm are still hidden inside that strongbox. That’s why I panicked and tried to bury the evidence out in the open. I thought if I hid it in the fresh landscaping mud, nobody would suspect it was anything other than topsoil.”
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David walked over and placed a firm, grounding hand on her shoulder. His expression softened, the initial anger completely gone, replaced by a grim solidarity. For better or worse, they were tied together in this suburban nightmare. “Burying evidence on our own front porch is the worst possible thing you could have done, Sarah. If Marcus is looking for that box, he’s not going to stop until he tears this house apart.”
“Then we need to figure out what’s actually inside that ledger before he gets here,” Sarah said, determination steeling her voice as she walked toward the basement door.
