"Then tell me what you know."
Officer Patel raised a hand.
"Roy, take your time. Start with what you personally saw or heard. Don't fill in anything you don't know."
Roy swallowed.
"Frank told me about the accident a few days afterward."
"What did he tell you?" Maya asked.
"He said Daniel had been asking questions about a garage."
"Which garage?"
"I don't know the name."
"Where was it?"
"Somewhere south of town. Near the highway."
Maya closed her eyes.
She remembered the faded sign in the photograph from Daniel's laptop.
A repair shop.
A building with a dented metal door.
A black pickup parked outside.
She had searched for the garage before, but the photograph had been too blurry to identify the business.
"What else?" Officer Patel asked.
Roy rubbed his face.
"Frank said Daniel had recorded something he shouldn't have recorded. He said the boy had become a problem."
Maya's knees weakened.
"He called my brother a problem?"
Roy nodded miserably.
"What did he say about the accident?"
Roy hesitated.
"He said the truck had been there to scare Daniel. He said they wanted him to stop asking questions."
"Who is they?" Officer Patel asked.
"I don't know."
"Did Frank give you names?"
"No."
"Did he say who was driving?"
Roy shook his head.
"He said the driver was supposed to follow Daniel and make him understand that he needed to stop. He said things went wrong."
Maya covered her mouth.
For two years, she had imagined the final moments of her brother's life.
Had he seen the truck?
Had he tried to escape?
Had he called someone?
Had he understood what was happening?
She had no answers.
Now she was learning that somebody might have deliberately frightened him on the road, and that his death had become something other people discussed privately.
"Why didn't you tell the police?" she asked.
Roy looked at her with an expression of terrible shame.
"Because I was afraid."
Maya laughed through her tears.
"Everybody was afraid."
She looked at Officer Patel.
"My brother was afraid. My mother was afraid. I was afraid. You know what Daniel did when he was afraid?"
The officer waited.
"He called me."
Maya's voice broke.
"He called me because he thought I could help him. And I told him to stop worrying."
She pressed a hand against her chest.
"I thought he was being dramatic. I thought he'd tell me everything when he was ready."
She looked at Roy.
"And now you tell me that people were following him, and you knew something happened, and you let me spend two years thinking I should have noticed."
Roy's eyes filled.
"I'm sorry."
Maya shook her head.
"Don't ask me to make you feel better."
He fell silent.
Officer Patel took another note.
"Roy, do you have any evidence that supports what you're saying?"
Roy stared at the floor.
"Maybe."
"What kind of evidence?"
"Frank keeps records."
"What records?"
"Payments. Vehicle information. Messages. He doesn't trust people, so he writes everything down."
"Where are these records?"
Roy hesitated.
"At the garage."
Maya looked up.
"The garage in Daniel's photograph?"
Roy nodded.
"Yes."
The room seemed to shrink around them.
Officer Patel exchanged a glance with Carol.
"Do you know the address?"
Roy shook his head.
"I can take you there."
"Not without further assessment and coordination," Officer Patel replied. "We need to establish the location and the nature of the evidence. You will not be going there on your own."
Roy nodded.
Officer Patel stepped outside to speak with her partner.
Carol remained with Maya.
Maya sat down again, staring at the floor.
"I spent so much time thinking I had imagined it," she whispered.
Carol pulled a chair closer.
"You didn't imagine your fear."
"But I don't know what happened to Daniel."
"No. Not yet."
"What if the police don't believe him?"
"Then they need evidence."
"What if Frank destroys it?"
Carol considered the question.
It was possible.
Frank had already taken Maya's phone and wallet. If he suspected that Roy had begun cooperating, he might try to erase anything that could connect him to the accident.
But there were also things Frank could not control.
Maya had copied files.
The diner had witnesses.
The officers had documented her injuries and taken statements.
And Roy had made an admission that could be investigated.
Carol spoke carefully.
"We cannot control what Frank does next. But we can make sure the information you have isn't lost."
Maya reached into the pocket of her hoodie and pulled out the small black phone.
Carol stared at it.
"I thought he took that."
"He took my main phone."
Maya turned the device over.
"This one is old. I used it for music when I was in high school. It doesn't have a SIM card."
"Why do you have it?"
"Because I hid it in my backpack. Frank searched my bag, but he didn't find it."
Maya pressed the power button.
The screen flickered.
A moment later, it lit up.
Her face changed.
"Oh, God."
"What is it?"
"The files."
She began tapping the screen with trembling fingers.
"I downloaded the recordings before he took my other phone. I thought I had deleted them, but I saved a copy here."
She opened a folder.
Several audio files appeared.
One was dated two weeks before Daniel's death.
Another was dated three days before the crash.
The final file had been recorded on the night Daniel died.
Maya stared at it.
"I've never listened to this one."
"Why not?"
"Because I thought it was just background noise. I didn't know what it was."
She looked at Carol.
"I was afraid of what I might hear."
Carol understood.
Some evidence carried more than information.
It carried the possibility of changing everything a person had spent years trying to accept.
"You don't have to listen to it alone," she said.
Maya nodded.
She placed the phone on the table and pressed play.
At first, there was only static.
Then came the sound of wind.
A door slammed.
Somebody spoke, too far from the microphone to be understood.
Maya leaned closer.
The recording crackled.
A man's voice became audible.
"—told you to leave it alone."
Another voice answered.
Daniel's.
"I just want to know why you're moving those bikes."
"You don't need to know."
"Some of them belong to people who reported them stolen."
A sharp sound followed.
Perhaps a hand striking a table.
Perhaps something being dropped.
Maya stopped breathing.
The first voice spoke again.
"You're making this more complicated than it needs to be."
Daniel replied, "Then stop lying."
The recording ended.
Maya stared at the phone.
She replayed the final few seconds.
"Then stop lying."
Daniel's voice was unmistakable.
Young.
Stubborn.
Alive.
Maya pressed both hands over her face.
Carol sat beside her, unable to speak.
When the tears came, they came silently.
Maya did not make a sound.
She simply bent forward until her forehead touched the table, as if the weight of two years had finally become too much to carry.
Carol placed a hand on her shoulder only after Maya reached for it.
Outside the storage room, the storm began to weaken.
Officer Patel returned with Morgan.
"We've contacted a supervisor," she said. "The statements and the information about the possible evidence will be documented. We need to preserve that recording and determine whether it can be authenticated."
Maya wiped her face.
"Can you listen to it?"
"Yes. We'll make a copy and document where it came from. Please don't edit or delete anything."
Maya nodded.
Officer Morgan spoke.
"Based on what we've heard tonight, we're continuing our investigation. We need to speak with Frank and Roy separately, and we need to determine whether Maya is at immediate risk if she leaves with us."
Maya looked toward the dining room.
"Frank will never let me go."
Officer Patel answered firmly.
"Frank does not get to decide whether you are allowed to seek help."
Maya's lips trembled.
For the first time, she looked as if she might believe that.
Then Officer Morgan's radio crackled.
He listened for several seconds before responding.
When he lowered it, his expression had changed.
Officer Patel noticed.
"What is it?"
Morgan glanced toward the hallway.
"The vehicle in the rear parking area is registered to a business associated with Delinger."
Maya's face went pale.
"What business?"
Morgan looked at her.
"An automotive repair company."
Maya slowly turned toward the phone.
The faded sign in Daniel's photograph.
The dented metal door.
The black pickup.
She had been looking for the place where her brother's final questions began.
And now the police had found the first thread connecting it to the men sitting in the diner.
But Officer Morgan was not finished.
"There's something else," he said.
"The vehicle was reported missing earlier this evening."
Carol stared at him.
"Missing?"
Morgan nodded.
"The registered owner filed a report claiming it had been stolen."
Maya's hands began to shake again.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because Frank drove it here."
Officer Morgan exchanged another look with his partner.
Then he turned toward the dining room.
Frank Delinger was no longer sitting at Table Four.
His coffee cup remained on the table.
His jacket was gone.
And the front door of Hollow Creek Diner was swinging slowly in the wind.
The Road Beyond the Diner
Frank had left through the front door while the officers were occupied in the hallway.
He had not run.
He had not shouted.
He had simply put on his jacket, walked past the counter, and stepped into the rain.
The elderly couple had watched him go.
So had the truck driver.
Neither had thought to stop him.
Officer Morgan moved quickly toward the entrance.
"Patel, stay with Maya. I'll check outside."
He stepped into the storm.
The parking lot was nearly empty.
Rainwater streamed across the pavement, gathering beneath the vehicles and flowing toward the drainage ditch beside Route 89.
At the far end of the lot, the black pickup was gone.
Morgan raised his radio.
"Unit responding to Hollow Creek. One subject has left the scene. Male, approximately forty, dark hair, black jacket. Possible connection to a vehicle reported stolen. Requesting nearby units to watch the southbound route."
He gave Frank's description and returned to the diner.
Roy sat alone at Table Four.
He looked as if someone had removed the structure holding him upright.
"Where did he go?" Morgan asked.
Roy shook his head.
"I don't know."
"Did you know he was leaving?"
"No."
"Did you help him?"