Chapter 2 — A Grave for the Living

Evelyn called her attorney as soon as Nathaniel left.

“He tore up the copies.”

“That doesn’t stop us filing.”

“I know. File them.”

There was a pause.

“Evelyn, are you safe?”

She looked at the chair where her husband had been sitting.

“I’m in a hospital.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“I don’t know.”

The attorney’s voice softened.

“Then we’ll start with that.”

It was a small conversation.

No dramatic promise. No assurance that everything would be all right.

But when Evelyn ended the call, she felt something she had not felt on the bridge.

There was still an action she could take.

Six days later, Marianne called.

“Your father’s in intensive care.”

Evelyn was still wearing the loose clothes Rosa had brought to the hospital. She had been discharged that morning, with medication in a paper bag and instructions she could barely remember.

“What happened?”

“What do you think happened?”

“Marianne—”

“Hart Holdings is gone.”

Evelyn sat down.

“No.”

“The creditors moved. The board turned. Nathaniel has control of what’s left.”

“My father would have called me.”

“He didn’t want you to know what he was giving up.”

“For what?”

Marianne’s breathing became audible.

“For you.”

Evelyn left without unpacking.

At the hospital, Marianne stood outside a glass partition, clutching Richard’s wristwatch.

She looked smaller than she had a week ago.

“What did you mean?” Evelyn asked. “What did he give up for me?”

Marianne turned.

“How could you tell Nathaniel everything?”

“I didn’t tell him everything.”

“You showed him the house accounts. You brought him into your father’s office. Every time Richard warned you, you said your husband needed to be trusted.”

Evelyn remembered defending Nathaniel at dinner.

She remembered leaving a folder on the kitchen counter because she had believed there was no difference between his interests and hers.

“I didn’t know.”

“No. You didn’t want to know.”

Through the glass, her father lay motionless.

Evelyn moved toward the door.

Marianne caught her arm.

“He’s sedated.”

“I just want to sit with him.”

“You can sit. But don’t tell him Nathaniel’s coming to fix it.”

Evelyn looked at her.

“I won’t.”

Nathaniel had stopped answering her calls.

She found him at the house Audrey had rented before her disappearance.

A security guard kept Evelyn outside the gate for forty minutes.

When Nathaniel’s car finally approached, she stepped into its path.

The brakes caught.

He got out slowly.

“You should be resting.”

She almost laughed.

It was such an ordinary sentence.

“My father is in intensive care.”

“I know.”

“Marianne says you took the company.”

“The company was failing.”

“You were running it.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Careful.”

She forced herself to continue.

“What did my father give you in exchange for protecting me?”

Nathaniel’s silence answered enough.

“So there was a bargain.”

“Your father made several bargains in his life.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you should ask him what he was willing to buy with other people’s lives.”

Evelyn stared at him.

He opened the car door.

She caught its edge.

“Wait. If there’s something he did, tell me. Don’t make me guess.”

Nathaniel looked down at her hand.

For a moment, she thought he might answer.

Instead, he said, “Audrey’s memorial is tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“You’ll attend.”

“No.”

His expression changed.

“Your father still has a house. Marianne still has money to pay for his care. If you want to discuss what happens next, be at the cemetery at ten.”

She let go of the door.

“You’re asking me to mourn her in front of everyone.”

“I’m asking you to show some remorse.”

“For something I didn’t do.”

The car pulled away before he answered.

Evelyn wore black.

She arrived with a written request folded inside her handbag: protection for her father’s home, funds for his care, and independent review of the messages attributed to her.

Nathaniel accepted the envelope without opening it.

“Stand there.”

He indicated the grave.

A polished coffin waited beneath a white canopy. Audrey’s portrait stood beside an arrangement of lilies.

Nobody had spoken to Evelyn about identifying a body.

She looked at the closed lid.

“Did they find her?”

Nathaniel turned toward the approaching guests.

“Not here.”

“That’s a reasonable question.”

“Evelyn.”

His tone carried a warning.

People were already watching.

She stepped away from the coffin and stayed beside the headstone.

One by one, acquaintances passed her.

Some ignored her. Some looked at her stomach, then quickly looked away.

A woman she had known since school murmured, “How could you come?”

Evelyn held her gaze.

“My husband asked me to.”

The woman glanced toward Nathaniel.

For once, she had no answer.

By noon, Evelyn’s legs were shaking.

She found a bench beyond the canopy and sat down.

Three of Audrey’s friends followed her.

“You don’t get to sit there looking tragic,” one said.

Evelyn recognized her as Caroline.

“I’m leaving.”

Caroline stepped in front of her.

“You should have left him alone years ago.”

“Move.”

“You ruined her life.”

Evelyn tried to pass.

A hand seized her shoulder. Another caught the neckline of her dress, pulling hard enough to tear a seam.

Something in Evelyn went still.

She pushed Caroline away.

When the second woman reached for her again, Evelyn struck her wrist with the metal clasp of her handbag.

The woman cried out.

“Don’t touch me.”

All three stared.

Evelyn had never spoken to them like that.

She took out her phone.

“If you come near me again, I’m calling the police. You can explain why there are three of you and one of me.”

Nathaniel appeared at the end of the path.

“What happened?”

“Your wife attacked us.”

Evelyn looked at him.

“Ask who tore my dress.”

He saw the split seam.

His gaze moved to Caroline’s hand.

“Leave.”

“Nathaniel, she—”

“I said leave.”

They went.

Evelyn did not thank him.

Her phone began to ring before he could speak again.

The hospital number filled the screen.

She answered.

At first, the words made no sense.

Deteriorated.

Resuscitation.

Sorry.

“My father?” she asked.

Nathaniel’s face changed.

Evelyn stepped backward.

The bench caught the backs of her knees.

She sat because her body no longer gave her a choice.

Richard’s funeral took place four days later.

Evelyn had spent the intervening days calling people, signing forms, and trying to reach the one nurse who had been present when he died.

She learned that Nathaniel had visited him the previous afternoon.

She learned nothing about their conversation.

Marianne stood beside Richard’s coffin, dry-eyed now.

When Nathaniel arrived, she crossed the room before anyone could stop her.

“You have no place here.”

“I came to speak to Evelyn.”

“You spoke to Richard. What did you say to him?”

“Marianne,” Evelyn said. “Please.”

“No. Let him answer.”

Nathaniel looked at the coffin.

Then at Marianne.

“Did Richard ever tell you what happened at the Cross estate?”

Marianne stopped moving.

Evelyn saw it clearly.

Recognition.

Fear.

“You know about that,” Marianne whispered.

“I was there.”

Evelyn turned toward him.

“You told me your parents died in an accident.”

He looked at her then.

His eyes held something older than their marriage.

“Someone called it an accident.”

Two detectives entered through the side door.

They asked for Marianne Hart.

She closed her eyes.

Evelyn caught her hand.

“What’s happening?”

Marianne squeezed once.

“Get a lawyer, sweetheart.”

The detectives explained that they needed to question her about information connected to an old fire investigation.

Evelyn followed them outside.

Marianne was walking between the detectives when a vehicle came through the funeral home’s parking entrance too fast.

A horn sounded.

One detective pulled Evelyn backward.

She heard the impact before she understood what she was seeing.

Marianne’s hand slipped out of reach.

At the emergency department, Evelyn sat with blood drying on her sleeve.

A nurse knelt in front of her.

“Mrs. Cross. I need you to come with me.”

“Is Marianne alive?”

The nurse’s expression answered.

Evelyn shook her head.

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No.”

The nurse waited until Evelyn could breathe.

Then she said, “You mentioned abdominal pain when the paramedics brought you in. We need to check your pregnancy.”

Evelyn looked at her.

“I’m not pregnant anymore.”

The nurse glanced at the chart.

“There’s a recent scan here.”

“That was before.”

“We did another one when you arrived.”

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around the chair.

“What?”

The nurse placed a small photograph in her hand.

A shape. A curve. Something impossibly small, still there.

“There’s a heartbeat.”

Evelyn stared until the image blurred.

“Are you sure this is mine?”

“Yes.”

“My name?”

The nurse pointed to it.

Evelyn Hart Cross.

Evelyn bent over the photograph, holding it with both hands.

For the first time since the bridge, she cried for something other than loss.

She stayed long enough to hear the instructions clearly.

She asked for copies.

She asked who had accessed her earlier records.

Then she called her attorney.

“I need to leave Briarport.”

“We should discuss—”

“I’ll discuss everything. Just help me leave first.”

The following morning, Evelyn bought a ticket to stay with an old college friend abroad.

She packed one suitcase.

At the airport counter, the agent scanned her passport, frowned, and called a supervisor.

Evelyn kept her hand over the photograph inside her coat.

“What’s wrong?”

The supervisor lowered his voice.

“There’s a restriction connected to an active investigation. We can’t check you in.”

Behind her, a familiar voice said, “Evelyn.”

She closed her eyes.

Nathaniel had found her.