Thirty minutes passed.
Then forty-five.
Then an hour.
My mother called.
No answer.
My father called.
Nothing.
I tried.
Straight to voicemail.
Then the phone rang.
It wasn’t Claire.
It was a police officer.
A storm had hit unexpectedly.
Claire’s vehicle had been traveling along a riverside road when she lost control.
Her car broke through a barrier and went into the water.
Rescue crews had recovered the vehicle.
But the river current was extremely strong.
They hadn’t found her alive.
My mother collapsed.
My father began sobbing.
I stood there in my wedding dress.
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t scream.
I couldn’t cry.
My brain simply refused to accept what I was hearing.
My sister was dead.
On my wedding day.
The day that was supposed to become the beginning of my new life had become the day I lost the person who had known me longer than anyone else.
Ryan held me.
He told me everything would be okay.
But it wasn’t okay.
Nothing was okay.
The Week After
The next seven days barely existed in my memory.
I slept in short bursts.
I forgot to eat.
People brought food to my parents’ house.
I couldn’t touch it.
Flowers filled the rooms.
Cards covered the tables.
Everyone spoke softly.
Ryan stayed close.
He held my hand.
He brought me water.
He told people I needed rest.
He looked like the perfect grieving husband.
I wanted to believe him.
I needed to.
Because the alternative was unbearable.
Then, exactly seven days after Claire’s death, my phone rang.
It was Megan.
Claire’s best friend.
Her coworker.
The person Claire trusted more than almost anyone.
Her voice sounded strange.
“Alice, I need you to come to Claire’s office.”
“Why?”
“There’s something she left for you.”
“What?”
“A phone.”
My heart started beating faster.
“And a letter.”
I froze.
“What kind of letter?”
Megan’s voice dropped.
“Just come.”
The Phone
I arrived at Claire’s office less than an hour later.
Megan was waiting in a small conference room.
A phone sat on the table.
Beside it was a sealed envelope.
My name was written across the front.
In Claire’s handwriting.
My hands began trembling.
I opened it.
Inside was one page.
The first sentence made my heart stop.
Alice,
If you’re reading this, then something happened to me before I could tell you everything myself.
I had to stop.
My vision blurred.
I kept reading.
You need to know the truth.
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
Do not trust Ryan.
I looked up.
Megan was crying.
“What is this?”
“I don’t know everything,” she whispered.
“Then what do you know?”
“Claire told me to give you the phone if she couldn’t.”
I stared at it.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Megan pointed toward the screen.
“Play the newest video.”
That was all Claire had written.
No explanation.
No details.
Just one instruction.
I opened the gallery.
One video sat at the top.
It had been recorded three days before my wedding.
My pulse hammered.
Then I pressed play.
The Video
The recording appeared to have been made inside a restaurant.
The camera angle was strange.
Low.
Hidden.
Someone had clearly placed the phone somewhere discreet.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then two people entered the frame.
I recognized the first person immediately.
