“Lucas, tell me the truth,” she said, her tone half fear, half demand. “What’s going on?”
He shook his head, his eyes filled with a fear far too mature for his fifteen years.
“If you had started that car, we wouldn’t be here talking,” he finally answered.
And in that instant, the cold wind swept through the empty garage behind them, as if confirming that something horribly real had almost happened.
The truth hadn’t been spoken yet, but Helen already felt it with a heartbreaking clarity.
Something—someone—had wanted her to not arrive at her own husband’s funeral… alive.
As they walked down the street, Helen tried to keep up with Lucas, who was moving with a mixture of urgency and suppressed fear. The cold morning air burned her lungs, but what was truly suffocating her was the question circling in her mind: Who would want to hurt me? And why today?
When they reached a small plaza a few blocks from their house, Lucas finally stopped. He looked around to make sure no one was following them and then spoke in a low voice.
“Grandma… I found something in the garage this morning. Something that shouldn’t be there.”
Helen felt the muscles in her neck tense.
“What did you find?”
