Chapter 4: The Funeral Stranger
582 Words
"He was at Dad's funeral."
The words echoed in my head.
I stared at Elsa, waiting for her to laugh and tell me she was joking.
She didn't.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
Elsa nodded.
"I remember faces. Especially that day."
My pulse hammered against my ribs.
"But Mom said Dad barely had any friends."
"That's exactly why I remember him."
Elsa placed the photograph on the table.
"There weren't many people at the funeral. Family. A few neighbors. Some of Dad's colleagues."
Her finger landed on the third man.
"This man stood far away from everyone else."
A chill crept down my spine.
"He never spoke to anyone?"
"No."
Elsa shook her head.
"He just watched."
The room suddenly felt colder.
If the stranger knew my father...
Why hide?
And why had nobody mentioned him before?
---
That evening, I returned home with more questions than answers.
The house was unusually quiet.
Mom wasn't in the living room.
Neither was David.
Lisa sat on the couch watching television.
"Where is everyone?"
Lisa shrugged.
"Mom and David went out."
"What about Nathan?"
She pointed upstairs.
"In his room."
Perfect.
I needed answers.
And Nathan clearly knew more than he was admitting.
---
I found him sitting on the balcony outside his bedroom.
A book rested on his lap.
The setting sun painted the sky orange.
For a moment, he looked completely harmless.
Then he looked up.
"I was wondering when you'd come."
I stopped walking.
"You were expecting me?"
Nathan closed his book.
"After last night? Definitely."
I crossed my arms.
"Who is the man in the photograph?"
His expression instantly hardened.
Bingo.
He knew exactly what photograph I meant.
"I don't know."
"Lie."
His jaw clenched.
"You shouldn't be digging into things that don't concern you."
I laughed bitterly.
"My father's death concerns me."
For the first time, Nathan looked genuinely surprised.
"What?"
I stepped closer.
"My father left me a letter."
The color drained from his face.
Only for a second.
But it was enough.
Enough to confirm everything.
Nathan knew something.
---
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Nathan stood.
"Did the letter mention David?"
The question hit me like a slap.
I hadn't told him David's name.
I hadn't told anyone.
My heart stopped.
"How do you know that?"
Nathan's eyes widened.
Realizing his mistake.
Silence.
Heavy.
Dangerous silence.
"Answer me," I demanded.
Nathan looked away.
The muscles in his jaw tightened.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
"My father isn't the only one keeping secrets."
"What does that mean?"
Before he could answer, a car pulled into the driveway.
Nathan glanced down.
His face immediately changed.
Fear.
Actual fear.
I had never seen it before.
"What is it?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he rushed inside.
The sudden panic in his movements sent alarm bells ringing through my head.
I hurried to the window.
A black SUV had stopped outside the house.
The engine remained running.
Dark tinted windows.
No license plate.
My stomach twisted.
The driver's door slowly opened.
A man stepped out.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Wearing a dark suit.
He looked up at the house.
Directly at my window.
And smiled.
A smile that made my skin crawl.
Then my phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
With trembling fingers, I opened the message.
Attached was a photograph.
A recent photograph.
Of me.
Standing in Elsa's apartment only a few hours earlier.
Beneath it were six words.
Stop investigating your father's death.
- Writer
