I shook my head. No, not ready yet. That day would come—I didn’t doubt that it would—but that day wasn’t today.
My eyes fell on a box on the floor of the closet, and I picked it up and brought it to the bed. Maybe I could get rid of a few of those things instead. I sifted through the pile and pulled out a journal Daniel used to write in at the end of each day. He had been good with words, unlike me, and I had always admired him for it. Initially, I didn’t plan to read any of it as it was his personal outlet and I didn’t want to intrude on his private moments.
But now, as I was contemplating what to do with his things, I didn’t see how I could dispose of the journal without reading it. Sometimes I felt as if his voice was slowly slipping away from me and I wanted—no needed—to have it back. To recover it just this once.
He wouldn’t mind if I read it now that he was gone. I knew him well enough to know that much. He had loved me and would have wanted me to be comforted. He’d never been the type to have any deep dark secrets, so I wasn’t worried about that.
For the next forty-five minutes, I sat on the bed and consumed his journal. There were moments when I laughed out loud and moments when my eyes watered. It was good to see his handwriting and take in his thoughts on the page.
And then I came to a disturbing entry, marked two weeks before we were mugged.
I’ve uncovered something terrible, and now I have to find the courage to go to the police.
That was all it said.
I stared at the words, willing there to be more, but there wasn’t anything else. I shook my head in disbelief, regret filling every bone in my body. I should have read this right after he died. It was proof that Daniel’s attack might not have been a random mugging like we had originally thought, and I had let it sit here all this time.
What had Daniel gotten himself into?
***
Minutes later, I looked through my contacts for Detective Marlow’s number. He’d handled the investigation four years ago but hadn’t found anyone with a motive to kill Daniel. I had pushed him to look into my neighbor, Victor, but nothing ever came of it. He had an alibi, so that was all water under the bridge now, but I couldn’t stop thinking that he’d had something to do with it. That man had been dangerous, and I didn’t believe for a second he didn’t have it in him to go after us. There was no proof of that, of course. It was just a theory, but I had always felt uneasy when I thought of Victor.
Once I found the number, I dialed and waited for Detective Marlow to answer.
“Kayla. It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”
“I’m surprised you kept my number.”
He chuckled. “I rarely get rid of my contacts. It’s a problem of mine.” He cleared his throat. “What can I do for you?”
I wasted no time getting straight to the point. “I found Daniel’s journal today and there’s an entry two weeks before he died that’s very disturbing.” I read the words to him and waited for his response.
“Hmm… Now, that is concerning. Did he indicate what he uncovered?”
“No, that was all he said.”
“That’s strange, but there isn’t much I can do if we don’t have more information.”
My heart sunk, but I hadn’t expected a different answer. “I understand.”
“But stop by when you get the chance so I can make a copy of the entry and put it in his file. If something else shows up, that clue might be important.”
“All right, I’ll do that today.”
“Great. When you come to the station, just ask for me at the front and they’ll lead you back to my desk. I’ll let them know I’m expecting you.”
After that, I got ready as quickly as I could. I called Troy, and he said he’d swing by to pick me up. I told him he didn’t have to accompany me since I didn’t plan on stopping anywhere else and the police station was safe, but he insisted on coming along.
Twenty minutes later, I was riding with Troy in his maroon Toyota SUV, headed towards the local police station. I held the journal in my lap, my thumb rubbing back and forth over the brown cover. I told Troy about the journal entry as well as the call I received earlier from Officer Hill regarding the list of AirBnbs.
Troy shifted in the driver’s seat, concern etched over his features. “Daniel never mentioned he wanted to go to the police?”
“No. I mean, yes, we talked about calling the police when Victor caused trouble, but I don’t remember anything more.”
“What else was going on in his life at the time?”
“Not much, really. He worked long hours, so he didn’t have time for hobbies. We went to the gym, to church, and we often met up with his coworkers for dinner. Beyond that, we were pretty boring.”
Troy glanced at me, his eyes flickering with amusement, and then he turned back to the road. “I highly doubt you were boring.”
I snickered, knowing exactly what he was getting at. “Yeah, yeah. You think I’m a hot mess, don’t you, Mr. Littman?”
He chuckled. “Can I plead the fifth?”
“Not when you’re with me.”
“Didn’t think so.” He let out a laugh as he pulled into the parking lot of the police station, the car
