Chapter 4 - The Deleted Messages)
Claire stared at the phone in Margaret's hand.
"Give it to me."
Margaret closed the side door.
"No."
Claire almost admired the directness.
At least Margaret had stopped pretending.
"What are you doing with it?"
"Daniel asked me to keep it."
"Why?"
"You know why."
Claire held out her hand.
Margaret did not move.
Claire saw the screen light up.
A message preview appeared.
Rachel.
Are you okay? You stopped replying.
Claire's stomach dropped.
She had been texting Rachel that morning.
Nothing dramatic.
Only complaints about being tired and Margaret taking over the party.
Rachel had replied around noon.
Want me to come rescue you?
Claire had written:
Maybe later.
Now Margaret swiped across the screen.
Claire stared.
"How did you unlock it?"
Margaret did not answer.
Daniel knew Claire's passcode.
Of course he did.
Claire had given it to him years ago.
Back when sharing passwords had felt intimate.
Now it felt like leaving a key beneath the mat for a burglar.
"What are you doing?"
Margaret opened the messages.
Claire tried to stand.
Pain stopped her.
"Margaret."
"Rachel is always stirring things up."
"Put my phone down."
"You complain to her about private family matters."
Claire's pulse raced.
"You are reading my messages."
"You make Daniel sound terrible."
"I tell my sister what happens in my life."
"Exactly."
Margaret tapped the screen.
Claire saw messages disappearing.
Her breath caught.
"Are you deleting them?"
Margaret looked up.
"If you insist on writing things when you're angry, somebody has to use judgment."
Claire felt something colder than fear.
"You are deleting my messages."
"Only the hysterical ones."
"Hysterical?"
Margaret held up the phone.
"You told Rachel Daniel controls the bank account."
"He does."
"You implied you were trapped."
"I am sitting injured in a garage while you delete my messages."
Margaret's mouth tightened.
"Don't twist this."
Claire laughed.
"There it is."
"What?"
"The family phrase."
Margaret stared.
"Daniel says I twist things. You say I twist things. Somehow the facts always become inappropriate when I say them out loud."
Margaret shoved the phone into her pocket.
"You're unstable today."
"No. I'm finally paying attention."
Margaret stepped toward the mudroom.
Claire looked toward the tablet.
Then toward Margaret.
"Does Daniel know you're deleting my messages?"
Margaret stopped.
Claire saw it.
A flicker.
Interesting.
Maybe Daniel had told Margaret to hold the phone.
Maybe he had not told her to erase evidence.
Claire pressed.
"He doesn't know."
Margaret looked back.
"Daniel understands that family business stays within the family."
"That's not an answer."
Margaret opened the door.
Claire called after her.
"I'll tell him."
Margaret turned.
"Tell him what?"
"That you went through my phone."
Margaret smiled.
"You think he'll choose your side?"
The question landed harder than Claire expected.
Margaret knew it.
She closed the door.
Claire sat in silence.
Warm laughter filtered through the wall.
Her eyes burned.
Not because Margaret was wrong.
Because Claire did not know if she was.
That terrified her.
She looked again at the tablet.
It was old.
Daniel used it for music in the garage.
Maybe it was connected to WiFi.
Maybe not.
Claire slid her good foot beneath the office chair and pushed.
The wheels rolled.
Her injured leg shifted.
Pain shot through her.
She stopped.
Breathed.
Moved again.
Three feet.
Two.
One.
She reached the workbench.
Her fingers closed around the tablet.
Dead.
She pressed the power button.
Nothing.
No charge.
Claire almost threw it.
Instead she searched the workbench.
Charging cable.
There.
She connected it.
A battery symbol appeared.
One percent.
Claire waited.
Two percent.
Three.
She turned it on.
The tablet opened without a passcode.
Her heart pounded.
WiFi connected.
She opened the browser.
Could she message Rachel through email?
Claire tried signing into her account.
Password required.
She typed the one she remembered.
Wrong.
Another.
Wrong.
Daniel had insisted they update passwords after a security warning.
He had handled it.
Of course.
Claire closed her eyes.
Think.
The tablet had apps.
Music.
Weather.
Photos.
A shopping app.
And an old messaging app Claire had used years earlier.
She opened it.
Still signed in.
Her breath caught.
Rachel was listed.
Claire typed quickly.
RACHEL COME TO THE HOUSE. GARAGE SIDE DOOR. DO NOT CALL DANIEL.
She hit send.
A spinning icon appeared.
Then a red error.
No internet connection.
Claire looked at the WiFi symbol.
Connected but no internet.
Maybe Daniel had disabled the garage router extender.
She tried again.
Nothing.
The mudroom door opened.
Daniel entered.
Claire dropped the tablet onto the workbench.
Too late.
He saw it.
His expression changed.
"What are you doing?"
"Checking the weather."
He walked toward her.
Claire almost smiled.
"What's funny?"
"You hate when I sound like you."
He grabbed the tablet.
Saw the unsent message.
His face lost all warmth.
"You tried to contact Rachel."
"Yes."
"I told you not to."
"You don't get to tell me that."
Daniel deleted the message.
Then he unplugged the tablet.
Claire watched him.
"Your mother deleted messages from my phone."
He paused.
"What?"
"She used my passcode."
Daniel looked toward the house.
Claire studied him.
"You didn't know."
"She shouldn't have done that."
For one second, hope appeared.
Claire almost hated herself for feeling it.
Then Daniel added, "But you shouldn't have been sending those messages in the first place."
Hope vanished.
Claire nodded slowly.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For making it clear."
Daniel rubbed his face.
"Claire, can we just survive tonight?"
"I am trying to."
"No, you're fighting everything."
"Because everything you're doing requires fighting."
Footsteps approached.
Margaret entered.
"Daniel, your boss is asking for you."
Daniel held up the tablet.
"She tried messaging Rachel."
Margaret looked at Claire.
Claire looked back.
Neither woman spoke.
Margaret said quietly, "Then we need to move her."
Daniel frowned.
"Move her where?"
Margaret's eyes settled on the laundry cart.
Claire followed her gaze.
"No."
Daniel looked at the cart.
Then at the mudroom door.
Guests were beginning to wander between rooms.
Margaret lowered her voice.
"If someone opens this door, they'll see her."
Claire's stomach turned.
Daniel hesitated.
That hesitation was the last chance he had.
He could have refused.
He could have opened the door.
He could have returned her phone.
He could have called an ambulance.
Instead he reached for the laundry cart.
"Claire."
She stared at him.
"Don't."
"It'll only be temporary."
"Daniel."
"We'll put blankets in it."
Her eyes filled.
"Do not put me in that cart."
He would later claim he was trying to help.
Margaret would later claim Claire agreed.
But Claire remembered the exact truth.
She said no.
Clearly.
May you like
Repeatedly.
And they did it anyway.
