After the funeral, Andrew began to wither away. He spent his days in Daisy’s room, staring at her sketches. His heart couldn’t take the weight of the loss. A few weeks after the funeral, he started talking to the empty air, telling Sarah that he could see Daisy standing in the doorway.
He had a massive heart attack before the ambulance could even arrive. The family had to bury Andrew less than a month after his daughter. Sarah became a ghost of herself, moving through the house without purpose. Eleanor was the only one left with any fire in her.
She wanted justice. The official investigation had stalled. The phone records showed Max was lying—Daisy hadn’t received any calls—but the DA said it wasn’t enough for a conviction. Eleanor decided she would find the proof herself. She began watching Max, tracking his movements with a quiet, cold intensity.
One hot afternoon, she saw Max in his yard. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and something caught the light. It was a silver chain. Eleanor knew that chain. She waited until Max’s parents went into town, and then she broke into their house through a back window.
She tore through Max’s room, her heart pounding. She found it in a shoebox on the top shelf of his closet. The silver cross. She turned it over and saw the words: “Daisy. From Grandma.” Tears streamed down her face as she gripped the evidence. Her first instinct was to call the Sheriff.
