CHAPTER 9 The Enemy of My Enemy #3
“Did she give you anything?”
Noah hesitated.
There.
Again.
Mason saw it.
“What?”
Noah looked miserable.
“A box.”
“What box?”
“She asked me to keep it.”
“Where is it?”
Silence.
“Noah.”
“At my house.”
Mason stared.
“You’ve had something belonging to Lily for four years and never told me?”
“She made me promise.”
“Stop using that as an excuse.”
“It isn’t an excuse.”
“What’s in it?”
“I don’t know.”
Mason laughed in disbelief.
“You never opened it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she told me not to unless she asked.”
“She’s dead.”
“I know.”
The words crashed between them.
Noah’s face twisted.
Mason looked away.
I stepped between them before grief became violence again.
“Enough.”
Neither moved.
“We get the box.”
Noah looked at me.
“Emma—”
“No.”
I pointed between them.
“Someone is sending photographs of Lily, threatening me, and knows things neither of you have told anyone.”
Derek nodded.
“She's right.”
Noah ignored him.
I continued.
“Whatever Lily put in that box may matter.”
Mason’s expression hardened.
“We go now.”
Noah looked at him.
“My house is being watched too.”
“Probably.”
“Then we don’t go directly.”
Derek pulled out his keys.
“I have a car parked two streets over.”
Noah stared.
“Of course you do.”
“No connection to any of you.”
Mason looked at Derek.
“You planned for this?”
“I plan for everything.”
“Except healthy relationships.”
Derek smiled faintly.
“That trait runs in the family.”
Under any other circumstance, I might have laughed.
Noah looked at me.
“You’re going to Claire’s.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“The box concerns why someone is threatening me.”
Mason opened his mouth.
I looked at him.
He closed it.
Progress.
Noah rubbed his face.
“You’re impossible.”
Mason and I answered simultaneously.
“I’ve been told.”
We looked at each other.
Derek laughed.
Noah groaned.
Twenty minutes later, I was in the back seat of Derek’s completely anonymous gray sedan.
Noah sat beside him.
Mason sat next to me.
No one spoke.
Our phones were turned off.
Derek drove through side streets.
Noah checked mirrors obsessively.
Mason’s hand rested on his knee.
Mine rested beside it.
Close.
Not touching.
Then his fingers moved.
He took my hand.
No one commented.
I squeezed once.
Mason stared out the window.
But his grip tightened.
Noah saw.
I knew because his eyes moved toward the rearview mirror.
For once, he said nothing.
Maybe threats changed priorities.
Maybe Lily did.
Maybe he was simply too tired to fight everything at once.
Whatever the reason, he let Mason hold my hand.
It felt strangely significant.
We reached Noah’s townhouse from the underground garage.
No obvious followers.
No photographers.
Derek stayed near the entrance.
Noah led us upstairs.
The house was exactly what I expected from my brother.
Clean.
Minimal.
Almost no decoration.
He walked toward his bedroom closet.
Mason followed.
I stayed close.
Noah removed a suitcase from the top shelf.
Behind it sat a small cardboard box.
Plain.
Old.
Mason stopped.
He stared.
“That’s hers?”
“Yes.”
His voice disappeared.
Noah carried it into the living room.
Set it on the coffee table.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Mason sat.
His fingers touched the cardboard.
He looked at Noah.
“You should open it.”
Noah frowned.
“Why me?”
“She trusted you with it.”
The bitterness was still there.
But softer now.
Noah sat opposite.
He broke the tape.
Inside were ordinary things.
A sweater.
A paperback.
A cheap necklace.
Photographs.
Receipts.
A notebook.
Mason picked up the necklace.
His face crumpled for half a second.
“My dad gave her this.”
I touched his shoulder.
Noah lifted the notebook.
There was an envelope beneath it.
His name was written across the front.
NOAH.
He froze.
Mason stared.
“Open it.”
Noah did.
Inside was one page.
Handwritten.
He began reading silently.
His face changed.
“What?”
Noah looked at Mason.
Then at me.
“This wasn’t for me.”
“What do you mean?”
He turned the page.
At the top, Lily had written:
**If something happens before I can leave, give this to Mason.**
Mason stopped breathing.
Noah handed it to him.
His hands shook.
I read over his shoulder.
**Mason,**
**If you’re reading this, something went wrong and Noah kept his promise longer than I expected.
Please don’t blame him. I asked him not to tell you because I needed to prove to myself that I could leave on my own.
You’ve spent my whole life trying to save me.
I love you for it, but sometimes being loved that hard feels like being held too tightly. **
Mason closed his eyes.
I squeezed his hand.
He continued.
**There’s something you need to know about Evan.
He has been gambling. A lot. More than you know.
He borrowed money from people I don’t recognize.
I found messages. I took pictures because I was scared he would delete them.
I copied everything onto a drive and put it in this box.
If he lets me leave, burn it. If he doesn’t, give it to the police. **
Noah immediately started searching the box.
Mason’s face had gone completely still.
“Evan,” I whispered.
Lily’s boyfriend.
The driver.
The man who survived.
Noah found a small USB drive taped beneath the notebook.
Derek stepped closer.
“Don’t plug that into your computer.”
Noah looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because we don’t know what’s on it now.”
“Now?”
“Someone knew this box existed.”
My stomach dropped.
Mason looked at Noah.
“Did anyone have access?”
“Cleaning service. Family.”
“Anyone from the team?”
“No.”
Derek picked up the drive carefully.
“This goes to someone I trust.”
Mason stood.
“No.”
Derek looked at him.
“What?”
“We go to police.”
That surprised all of us.
Mason noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said.
He looked at me.
“I’m done hiding things.”
The words landed hard.
Noah stared at him.
Something passed between them.
Not friendship.
Not yet.
Recognition.
Then my phone rang.
We all froze.
It was still powered off.
Noah’s phone.
He looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
Derek said, “Don’t answer.”
The ringing stopped.
A message appeared.
Noah read it.
His face went white.
“What?”
He turned the screen.
**Found the box yet?**
My blood went cold.
Then another message.
**Check under the photographs.**
Noah emptied the remaining contents.
Beneath the photographs was another envelope.
None of us had noticed it.
Black.
No name.
Mason opened it.
Inside was a recent photograph.
Taken through glass.
A hospital room.
An older man lying in bed.
Noah frowned.
“Who is that?”
Derek went completely still.
Mason looked at him.
“Derek?”
His half-brother took the photograph.
For the first time since meeting him, he looked afraid.
“That’s Evan.”
My stomach dropped.
Mason stared.
“No.”
Derek nodded slowly.
“Older. Different hair.”
“But that’s him.”
“Yes.”
I looked between them.
“He’s alive?”
Mason’s expression hardened.
“He survived the accident.”
“I know. I mean now.”
Derek stared at the hospital photograph.
“I was told he died last year.”
Silence.
Noah’s face changed.
“Told by who?”
Derek didn’t answer.
Mason stepped closer.
“Who?”
Derek looked at him.
“My mother.”
Everything stopped.
Mason’s face went blank.
“Mom knew where Evan was?”
Derek swallowed.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Years.”
Mason stared at him.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
Derek’s voice sharpened.
“She told me six months ago.”
“Why?”
“Because she wanted me to stop looking.”
“Looking for what?”
Derek’s jaw tightened.
“The truth about Lily’s accident.”
The room became silent.
Noah looked at Mason.
Mason looked at the USB drive.
I stared at the photograph of Evan alive in a hospital room.
Four years of hatred had been built around one terrible night.
But suddenly the story no longer looked like a simple drunk-driving accident.
Gambling debts.
Secret evidence.
A hidden apartment.
A USB drive.
A survivor everyone thought had disappeared from their lives.
And someone watching us closely enough to know exactly when we opened Lily’s box.
Mason’s hand found mine.
Cold.
Tight.
He looked at Derek.
“What did Mom find?”
Derek’s voice dropped.
“She found out Evan wasn’t the only person in the car that night.”
Noah stood so quickly the table shook.
“What?”
Mason froze.
“What are you talking about?”
Derek looked between them.
“There was a third person.”
My heartbeat thundered.
“Who?”
Derek shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Mason stepped toward him.
“You came here knowing this?”
“I came here because I thought whoever sent the photo knew too.”
“Who was in the car?”
“I said I don’t know.”
Noah’s voice became sharp.
“Police report said two passengers.”
“I know.”
“So your mother was wrong.”
“Maybe.”
Derek held up the hospital photograph.
“But somebody has spent four years making sure all of us believed exactly the same story.”
He looked at the USB drive.
“And Lily apparently knew enough before she died to start collecting evidence.”
No one spoke.
Outside, Seattle moved normally beyond the windows.
Cars.
People.
A world completely unaware that everything we thought we knew about Lily Cole’s death had just changed.
Mason looked at me.
Fear.
Anger.
Grief.
All tangled together.
I squeezed his hand.
This time he didn’t look away.
For years, Mason and Noah had believed they were enemies because each blamed the other for one irreversible night.
Now, for the first time, they were standing on the same side.
And somewhere outside that room was a person who seemed very determined to make sure they never discovered why.