Natalie gave a small nod and asked, in a dry, strained voice, who she was. The woman introduced herself as Vera and explained that she had shared an office with Laura in the accounting department for the past few years. Natalie searched her memory, trying to place the name among the stories her sister used to tell about work, but nothing came.
Laura had often mentioned cheerful Marina, talkative Susan, and their demanding supervisor, Mr. Peters. But Vera’s name meant nothing to her, and that alone made Natalie uneasy. Vera kept speaking in a rushed whisper, glancing over and over toward Greg. Then she apologized for approaching her at such a painful moment and said Laura had asked her to deliver something in case the worst happened.
The envelope, she said, was meant for Natalie’s eyes only. Under no circumstances was her husband supposed to know about it. With shaky hands, the woman pulled a slightly crumpled envelope from her bag and held it out. Natalie stared at it, unable to imagine what her sister could possibly have left behind.
Vera swore she had never opened it. Laura had given it to her two weeks earlier, on a gray evening, and told her to hand it directly to Natalie if anything happened to her. Vera said she had hoped it was just stress talking, maybe fatigue or fear. But now the worst had happened.
Natalie took the envelope. Through the paper, she could feel a small rectangular object inside. She thanked the woman automatically, in a voice so flat it barely sounded like her own. In the three days since the detective’s call, she had cried until there was nothing left. Now there was only a scorched kind of emptiness.
As soon as Natalie spoke, Vera stood up abruptly and hurried down the narrow path toward the cemetery gates without looking back. The speed of her exit, and the way she kept glancing over her shoulder, made it seem as if she were afraid of being followed. A few minutes later, Greg walked back from the gravesite, sat beside Natalie, and placed a hand on her shoulder.
With mild irritation, he asked who the woman in black had been. Fighting to keep her breathing steady, Natalie said it was just one of Laura’s former coworkers who had come to pay her respects. Greg accepted that answer without much interest, rubbed his eyes, and said they should head home for the family gathering.
She rose without protest and got into their SUV, clutching the envelope in her coat pocket the whole way home. She didn’t open it until late that night, when Greg’s steady breathing told her he was fully asleep. She slipped into the bathroom, locked the door, turned on the faucet to cover any noise, and tore the envelope open with trembling fingers…
