Chapter Eighty-Three. Melanie
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
MELANIE
After Hannah’s performance, I took the trail cam footage to Dad. He watched it in silence, then shut the laptop screen.
What are you thinking? I asked.
He paused a moment, careful with his thoughts, with his words, as always. Earlier today, when we were heading to the model home, Emily came chasing after Olivia.
I nodded.
She didn’t want her walking over there with us. Because of the cold, maybe. His eyes lifted to mine. Or maybe because she didn’t want Olivia to see what was inside.
Now, Dad is in full sheriff mode, sitting across a long table from Mark and Emily in one of the conference rooms. The cold tile floor, the bare walls—it feels like an interrogation cell.
The laptop glows pale in the dim room, all our eyes on the screen.
Dad leans forward, taps the trackpad, and pauses the video on the final image of Emily handing over the envelope.
Mark’s voice cuts through first. “What’s this all about, Sheriff? Emily helps me out at the trailer all the time. Pays contractors, vendors. That’s nothing new.”
“I understand that,” Dad says, his voice steady but carrying weight. “But Melanie recognizes this man. She says Cat told her that he had been following her all week.”
Mark’s head jerks back. “What are you saying?” His eyes drop to the screen.
And then, slowly, realization begins to settle.
Why Emily—who never cared much for Cat—might hand cash to a stranger.
His eyes find hers. The blood drains from his face, and I see the thought cross his mind, the same one Dad is wondering: whether Emily had finally had enough of Cat.
If she decided to get rid of her for good.
“Mark!” Emily’s horrified cry rattles the air. “You can’t think—”
But I can see it. The shift. Something fragile breaking between them. Once you imagine the person you love could be capable of murder, you can’t unthink it. That knowledge reshapes everything.
“Who is that man?” Mark says finally, each word ground out, measured.
Emily breaks into tears, her shoulders shaking. Mark’s eyes widen. His hand drags down his jaw, hard, leaving a red streak. For a moment I see nothing but fury flashing in his face as he stares at his wife. “What about Olivia?” he says.
Because Mark is always thinking about Olivia. After we found Cat’s body, he went into triage mode. Focusing only on Olivia, on the hurt she was feeling, on the care she needed. But I know the truth. Mark loved Cat. Always. Still.
Emily lifts her head, eyes glossy, already begging him for forgiveness. “He’s a private investigator, Mark. I just wanted to make sure she stayed sober. You hired a PI before.”
“To find her,” he spits. “To make sure she was okay. And she was okay. She was sober.”
“For now,” Emily shoots back, her pleas curdling into anger. “But she’d done it before. How many times? Swoop back in, get Olivia’s hopes up, and then leave our lives in shambles. I couldn’t let her do that again.”
Dad clicks the laptop shut, his tone clipped but even. “Emily, do you have this man’s contact information?”
“Of course.” She digs into her purse, produces a business card, and presses it into his hand.
“I’ll follow up,” Dad says, standing up and heading for the door to give them privacy. He nods to me, and I follow him out of the room.
He clicks the door shut behind us, but I can still feel the sour air.
“Sorry,” I say.
He puts a hand to my shoulder. “No. That had to be done.”
I give him a weak smile. But inside, I’m angry at Emily too. Because Cat was doing so well. She’d fought hard for her sobriety, and Emily had no right—no right—to undermine her. To doubt her. To send some man lurking after her until she doubted herself. Until she spiraled.