CHAPTER 3 – The Friend Who Came Back From the Funeral

Margaret backed away from the attic opening, clutching the metal box against her chest.

Downstairs, the footsteps stopped.

Then the voice came again.

“Margaret… don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

It was Richard Vale.

Daniel’s best friend.

The man who had held her hand at the funeral.

The man who had told her, “Daniel would want you to move on.”

For twenty-seven years, Richard had visited every Christmas, every birthday, every anniversary of Daniel’s death. He brought flowers. He cried at the grave. He called himself family.

But now he stood inside her dark house at midnight.

Looking for the same box Daniel had hidden before he died.

Margaret’s fingers trembled as she opened it.

Inside were three things.

A cassette tape.

A stack of bank documents.

And one photograph.

The photo showed Daniel standing beside Richard near the lake.

But behind them, half-hidden in the frame, was Michael.

Her son.

Only he wasn’t a child in the photo.

He was a grown man.

Margaret’s blood turned cold.

The photo was dated two days after Daniel’s funeral.

That was impossible.

Daniel was dead by then.

Unless…

The funeral had been a lie.

Before she could think, Richard reached the attic ladder.

“Give me the box, Margaret.”

She stepped back.

“What did you do to my husband?”

Richard’s face appeared in the attic opening.

Old, pale, and twisted with panic.

“I protected you from the truth.”

Margaret lifted the cassette tape.

“Then I’ll hear it from Daniel.”

Richard’s expression changed.

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