Chapter 8 - THE NIGHT HANNAH DIEDThere are memories grief locks away because the mind is merciful.
Then there are memories grief hides because the truth inside them is too sharp.
The night Hannah died had always come back to me in pieces.
Rain on the windshield. A phone call from an unknown nurse. Emily asleep in my brother’s arms. The smell of hospital coffee. A doctor with tired eyes saying there had been nothing they could do.
Hannah had been driving alone on Lake Road.
The police said her car slid on wet pavement and hit the stone barrier near the curve.
No other vehicle.
No witnesses.
A tragic accident.
That was the story I had buried my wife under.
Now Daniel stood in my foyer saying Emily remembered Rebecca outside our house that night.
Rebecca sat down hard on the bottom stair.
Preston remained standing.
I looked at her.
“Tell me that is impossible.”
Rebecca’s lips moved.
Nothing came out.
Julian stepped closer to Daniel. “Where is Emily?”
“In my car. Officer Grant’s partner is with her.” Daniel swallowed. “She heard Rebecca say Hannah’s name. Then she started crying and said, ‘The blue dress lady was there when Mommy left.’”
The blue dress lady.
Emily’s drawing.
The woman behind the tree.
Rebecca looked down at her ruined wedding gown like she wanted to disappear inside it.
I knelt in front of her.
“Were you at my house the night Hannah died?”
Preston answered. “Do not respond.”
I did not look at him. “Rebecca.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
They were wet now, but these tears were not for Emily. They were not for Hannah. They were for herself at the edge of a cliff.
“I came to talk to her,” she whispered.
The room vanished.
“What?”
“She called me.”
“No, she didn’t.”
“She did.”
“Hannah barely tolerated you by then.”
Rebecca flinched.
Preston said, “This statement is being made under emotional duress.”
Julian turned to Officer Grant. “She is speaking voluntarily in the presence of law enforcement after being advised she can stop. Correct?”
Officer Grant nodded.
Rebecca looked at her father. “Stop talking over me.”
Preston’s eyes flashed.
Rebecca shrank, then forced herself to continue.
“Hannah knew about the trust changes,” she said. “She knew Dad had been asking questions.”
“Asking questions?” I repeated.
Rebecca gave a bitter laugh. “That’s what he calls it.”
Preston’s voice dropped. “Rebecca.”
She looked at him. “You don’t get to sacrifice me alone.”
Officer Grant’s radio crackled. No one moved.
Rebecca turned back to me.
“Hannah called me that afternoon. She said if I came near Emily again, she would expose everything.”
“What everything?”
Rebecca wiped her face with the back of her hand, smearing mascara across her cheek. The perfect bride was gone now. In her place sat a woman much younger than she had always pretended to be.
“My father’s firm had money tied up in Whitaker Foundation projects,” she said. “Illegal money. Shell donations. Construction contracts. Hannah found discrepancies.”
Julian’s expression sharpened.
I felt as if the floor shifted beneath me.
Hannah had overseen the foundation’s community housing initiative before she died. Preston’s firm had represented one of the development partners.
I remembered Hannah staying up late with spreadsheets.
I remembered her saying, “These numbers don’t match.”
I remembered telling her to sleep.
God.
Rebecca continued, “She thought I knew everything. I didn’t at first.”
“At first?”
She looked away.
“I found out after Dad told me to keep her close.”
My voice came out rough. “So you befriended my wife because your father told you to spy on her?”
Rebecca said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Emily had lost her mother to a chain that began long before the accident. Greed dressed as charity. Surveillance dressed as friendship. Rebecca dressed as comfort.
“What happened that night?” I asked.
Rebecca’s hands twisted in her lap.
“I went to the house. Hannah was angry. She said she had copied files. She said she was taking them to Margaret Vale and then to the attorney general.”
Preston’s face had gone gray.
“You argued,” Julian said.
Rebecca nodded.
“She told me I was pathetic. She said I didn’t love Adam because love does not erase his life before you.”
I closed my eyes.
That sounded like Hannah.
Kind until kindness became dangerous.
“She left,” Rebecca said. “She got in the car.”
“And?”
Rebecca’s breath shook.
“I followed her.”
The words hit me like a blow.
“Why?”
“To stop her. To talk. To get the files.”
Preston said sharply, “You never told me that.”
Rebecca turned on him. “Because you told me to handle it.”
“I told you to retrieve information, not chase a woman in a storm.”
“Oh, now you care about details?”
Officer Grant wrote every word.
Julian’s face had become unreadable.
Rebecca spoke faster now, as if confession had become a flood she could not dam.
“I followed her onto Lake Road. She was driving too fast. I flashed my lights. She wouldn’t pull over. I called her. She answered on speaker and told me she had already sent copies.”
My heart pounded in my ears.
“Then?”
Rebecca covered her mouth.
“Then another car came up behind us.”
Preston went still.
“What car?” Julian asked.
Rebecca shook her head. “Black SUV. I thought it was Dad’s investigator. I thought he sent someone to scare her.”
Preston’s voice was almost a whisper. “What did you see?”
Rebecca looked at him, and for once she seemed pleased to frighten him.
“The SUV tapped her bumper at the curve.”
The room exploded.
Daniel swore. Officer Grant called for detectives. Julian grabbed my arm because I had moved without realizing it.
Rebecca sobbed once.
“She spun out. I stopped. I saw the car hit the barrier. I saw—”
“Stop,” Officer Grant said gently but firmly. “We need a recorded interview.”
But I could not stop.
I stepped closer.
“My wife was alive?”
Rebecca looked at me.
Her silence was a grave opening.
“Was she alive when you stopped?”
Rebecca’s voice broke.
“Yes.”
I staggered backward.
Daniel caught me.
“She was moving,” Rebecca whispered. “I saw her through the windshield. Then the SUV driver got out.”
“Who?” Julian demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“Male? Female?”
“Male. Tall. Dark coat.”
Preston had not moved.
I turned to him.
“Did you send someone?”
He did not answer.
Rebecca looked at him too.
“Dad?”
Preston’s mouth opened, then closed.
For the first time in his life, maybe, Preston Shaw had no elegant sentence ready.
And that was when my phone rang again.
Unknown number.
Julian shook his head, but I answered.
A distorted voice came through.
“You were warned.”
My whole body went cold.
“Who is this?”
The voice ignored me.
“Stop asking about Lake Road, or next time we won’t take photographs.”
The call ended.
A second later, another image appeared on my phone.
May you like
Emily sitting in Daniel’s car.
Taken through the windshield from the trees beyond my driveway.
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