What Marcus Found

“Tyler had been playing Dad,” I managed to say. Revulsion and fear surged through me together. “He made the camera record a fake goodbye.”

Marcus turned from the phone and peered through the narrow window at the house. “Then your father didn’t go anywhere. He’s still on this property.”

He lowered his voice. “And Brenda and Tyler are getting ready to leave tonight.”

The scrap of paper shook in my hand as I looked down at its familiar message: if Dad didn’t return, I was supposed to inspect Tyler’s trunk.

Outside, Tyler stood beside his black sedan. He dropped the trunk lid with a hard metallic bang, then glanced uneasily toward the garage.

I watched through the office window, its dirty glass cold against the air. The porch lamp painted the driveway a sickly yellow.

The sound of the lid striking shut carried across the frozen yard. Tyler turned his head, searching the shadows near us.

His gaze lingered toward the garage. Then he hurried back to the house, leaving the sedan alone beneath the light.

My fingers trembled. The note slid loose, turning once before it landed on the concrete, where old oil had darkened the floor.

I looked again at Marcus’s phone. The paused image showed the person in Dad’s coat entering the taxi, with an uninjured left hand.

Tyler. He had worn our father’s clothes and fooled the doorbell camera, but he hadn’t gotten Dad into that cab.

“He stayed here,” I murmured. The words felt dry and bitter. “Dad never got into the taxi.”

“That’s right,” Marcus said, without offering comfort. He retrieved the note and set it carefully on the desk.

“He must have discovered Brenda was taking his money. He collected evidence, made that list, then went back inside to face her.”

I glanced at Maya. She had tucked herself into the old leather chair, wrapped in my oversized flannel as if it could shield her.

The space heater hummed beside her, giving off a faint orange light. Her pale face was tense, her eyes moving between Marcus and me.

She could feel the panic I was trying to hide. My chest tightened as I looked at her small, frightened shape.

“If Dad never left, where is he?” I asked. My voice splintered. “It’s been three days.”

Marcus didn’t answer at once. He crossed to the tall steel cabinet, opened the bottom, and drew out a heavy crowbar.

He leaned it against the desk. “I can’t tell you where he is,” he said at last.

“But Brenda’s been behaving like a woman who hit a jackpot, not someone whose husband walked out on her.”

“She’s clearing out valuables, laying claim to the house, and now Tyler’s loading his car after dark.”

My stomach rolled. I looked through the glass again. The sedan sat quiet in the drive, its rear lights unlit.

The message on the paper seemed to beat inside my skull: check Tyler’s trunk. Dad had known I might need to look.

“I’m going out there,” I said. The words came strangely calm, as if they belonged to someone else. “I need to open that trunk.”

Marcus’s expression hardened. “Tyler could spot you. He’s strong, he’s already jumpy, and if he catches you at his car, he could hurt you badly.”

“Then we should call the police first,” I said, fishing my phone from my pocket. “We can show them the footage and Dad’s note.”

Marcus planted his broad hand over my screen. “No. Stop and think. Brenda already went to the station Wednesday morning.”

“She filed an abandonment report and handed over a doctored version of the doorbell recording. She made herself look like the injured party.”

He stepped nearer, his shadow spreading over the desk. “The officers believed her story.”

“What can we prove right now?” he asked. “There’s a distant, blurry clip, a wallet I pulled from the rubbish, and a note with no proof of who wrote it.”

“Brenda can say I’m a bitter tenant who made the whole thing up. She can tell them you’re trespassing.”

“They could arrest us while she and Tyler carry on inside. They’d get time to finish whatever they started tonight.” Marcus pointed toward the house.

He didn’t need to complete the thought. Dad could disappear for good while we sat behind a locked door somewhere.

The truth of it pressed down on me. We had suspicion, not the kind of proof that would make the police search a house tonight.

A twenty-two-year-old kid and a mechanic couldn’t force anyone to listen on a hunch. We needed something solid, something from that car.

“I’m checking the sedan,” I said. My decision had settled. I turned to Maya. “Stay here with Marcus, sweetheart. Don’t go outside. I’ll come back.”

She made a small, broken sound and clutched my flannel shirt in both fists. “Please don’t leave me.”

I bent to kiss her forehead. “I have to find Dad,” I whispered. “I promise I’ll bring him back.”

When I straightened, I met Marcus’s eyes. “Lock the door after me. Keep Maya safe, and don’t let anybody in.”

I left Maya in Marcus’s care, my pulse hammering as I prepared to break into Tyler’s car.