Page 25 of A Sister's Secret

The following weeks were a blur of activity. The trio worked tirelessly, following up on Travis's insights—staking out locations, piecing together timelines, and cross-referencing faces. Lisa learned to read the tension in Oliver's shoulders, offering support without words when the shadows of doubt crept in.

But with every clue uncovered, the air around them seemed to grow colder, charged with the unseen presence of a watcher. Lisa would double-check the locks on their doors at night, her dreams filled with dark alleys and whispers just beyond hearing. The thrill of the chase was marred by the chilling realization that the predator could turn on them at any moment.

"Stay vigilant," Travis would remind them. "These types are like cornered animals—they'll lash out when least expected."

And so, amidst heartwarming moments shared over cups of hot coffee and quiet evenings where Lisa and Oliver's hands would find each other's, there remained the electric hum of suspense. The thrill of being so close to truth mingled with the fear of what that truth might bring.

Yet through it all, Lisa held onto the love that bound her to Oliver, their family, and the memory of the woman whose life had been cut tragically short. It was this love that fueled their search, pushing them forward into the unknown, hearts racing with the promise of justice—a justice that had eluded Oliver's sister for far too long.

Chapter Ten

Lisa took a deep breath, her hazel eyes scanning the small, cluttered bedroom that once belonged to Oliver's late sister. This was where she had been for all those years, living here with her family. The air felt thick with dust and the heavy scent of old books, but beneath that, there was something else—a trace of mystery that clung to the corners like cobwebs. This place was a crypt of secrets, and she couldn't shake the feeling that one of them held the key to what really happened.

“She just left one day,” Jonas, the father of her child, said. “I… I didn’t know why. I kept thinking she might come back. But her suitcase was gone along with some of her clothes. I assumed she had left me and Sammy. I couldn’t never have imagined….”

Jonas trailed off. He was standing in the doorway to the bedroom. Oliver and Lisa had asked nicely if they could go through Michelle’s things after telling him what they believed had happened to her. He didn’t even know she was dead, he said. It had knocked the air out of him, and he had just been sitting there for a long time on the couch downstairs while they waited for him to gather his thoughts. He was just now able to talk. Lisa didn’t know what she was looking for, but there had to be something they could use, something that could direct them toward Michelle’s whereabouts in the days before her death.

Her fingers trailed over the desktop, pushing aside stacks of paper in search of anything out of place. The official police report had been clear: an unfortunate suicide, a case closed as quickly as it had opened. However, Lisa's heart, a vessel tempered by past violence and loss, refused to accept such a tidy conclusion. There were shadows here that didn't match the light, whispers in the silence that spoke of hidden truths. A person had been with her in that cabin, taking photos of her. The same person who stood behind her ten years ago before she left without a word. This person could have been with her when she died. But how could they prove it?

A photo frame, face down, caught her attention. She picked it up, swiping away the layer of grime to reveal a smiling family that no longer existed. It was a snapshot of happier times—before grief carved its hollows into Oliver's strong yet introspective features.

"Where are you leading me?" she murmured to the absent girl in the photograph, her voice a blend of warmth and resolve.

The walls seemed to press closer, listening as Lisa continued her search. She was methodical, knowing that any misstep could crumble the path she was forging toward the truth. Each drawer she opened and every piece of paper she sifted through brought a mix of hope and anxiety. The excitement of the chase was there, the thrill of uncovering what was meant to stay buried. Yet, the suspense gnawed at her bones, the fear of what she might find—or what might find her—never quite leaving her side.

In a bottom drawer, hidden beneath a stack of old magazines, Lisa discovered a collection of receipts, each meticulously filed by date. They spanned back months before that fateful day, and as she examined them, she noted purchases that made little sense for a woman supposedly preparing to end her own life. A new coat? Hiking boots? A new computer? The items spoke of plans, of futures being envisioned.

"Oliver," she whispered. His pain was hers now, and his sister's enigmatic end was a puzzle they both needed to solve—not just for peace but for protection—for their family that had been built on resilience and the tender bonds of stepchildren who called him dad.

Lisa tucked the receipts into her bag, her pulse quickening. There was more to this story; she could feel it in her bones. And she wouldn't stop until the whole town knew it, too.

Lisa's fingertips traced the spines of books inside the dusty box, the musty smell of old paper and forgotten memories hanging heavy in the air of Oliver's childhood home. The box in the attic contained a few of Michelle’s things she left behind that their parents thought they’d keep. Oliver had brought it down to his old room, and they were going through it together. Lisa paused at a book that had no writing on the back.

With a gentle tug, the book came loose, heavier than its counterparts. A hollow echo sounded as it left its resting place. Heart pounding with the thrill of potential discovery, Lisa peered into the gap the book had left, catching the faintest glint of metal in the shadows.

"Come on," she whispered, reaching down. Her fingers wrapped around a small key, cool to the touch and embossed with intricate filigree that suggested importance and secrecy. It took only a moment to find the lock it fit, camouflaged in the wall paneling in Michelle’s old room. With a soft click, a hidden drawer edged open, revealing its clandestine treasure: a diary bound in leather that whispered of mysteries held tight for far too long.

Lisa's breath hitched as she lifted the journal, an inexplicable sense of connection passing through her. This was no ordinary diary; it was a silent witness to Michelle’s life and perhaps her final days before she left. This could hold the answers as to the why. Why did she leave?

Lisa hesitated, knowing that the pages within might hold answers for which she wasn't prepared. But the love she bore for Oliver and the need to protect the patchwork family they had woven together steeled her resolve.

The entries were cryptic, a code of half-sentences and veiled references that spoke of fear and urgency. Dates were circled with frenzied pen strokes, names mentioned alongside question marks, and ominous doodles filled the margins like dark clouds threatening a storm.

"Your sister was scared," Lisa told Oliver, the realization dawning like an unwelcome sunrise. "She must have been running from something or someone."

As Lisa turned the pages, soaking in the fragmented thoughts and fears penned down in a rushed hand, the official story of a young woman overwhelmed by despair began to crumble. They had found receipts that indicated plans for the future, purchases made with hope found in her home, along with a family that loved her and a child who needed her—none of it aligned with the image of someone at the brink of self-destruction.

"Someone else was definitely involved," Lisa concluded, a shiver of suspense running down her spine. The entries hinted at meetings in hushed tones and the palpable sense of being in great danger. Every word written was a piece of the puzzle, gradually forming a picture that Oliver's sister had been ensnared in a web much larger than anyone had imagined.

Lisa clutched the diary to her chest, its secrets now entrusted to her care. She knew she was treading on dangerous ground, unraveling a truth that had been buried under layers of silence and deceit. Yet, for Oliver, for their children, for the memory of a woman who had seemingly run out of options, she would face the unknown.

Lisa's fingers grasped the doorknob, the cold metal biting into her skin as she returned to Maggie’s house. Oliver had dropped her off, and Maggie had taken the kids out for dinner, so she was all alone. She stood in the kitchen, thinking of all she had discovered these past few days and weeks. It had changed her view of the world —a world that now felt infinitely more treacherous than ever before. She paused, taking a deep breath to steady her racing heart.

She sat down with a cup of tea, trying to settle her anxiety and worry, which had grown increasingly intense lately. She was scrolling on her phone when a soft rustle from outside the back door to the kitchen pierced the stillness, slicing through the silence like a warning shot.

Lisa stilled, every muscle tensing, her instincts flaring to life. The noise was distinct—the crunch of dry leaves under cautious footsteps, deliberate and measured. Her mind raced, cataloging every possibility. Could it be a wildlife creature? Or was it something far more sinister?

The comforting weight of the diary on the table served as a silent reminder of what was at stake. She knew she couldn't allow fear to paralyze her—not when Oliver's sister's story hung in the balance, begging to be told. But caution was paramount; she could not afford recklessness with so much on the line.

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