The driveway was dark.

The storm seemed to be moving out to sea, the wind dying down to a gentle sigh.

I felt a sense of peace I had not felt in years.

Then, the screen of my phone lit up on the table.

It was another text from the unknown number.

I walked over, my heart speeding up again.

I picked it up.

The message was not from Julian.

It was a single image of an old, rusted key lying on a concrete floor.

Below the image, a message appeared.

“He didn’t sign everything.”

My thumb hovered over the glowing screen.

I stared at the image of the rusted key lying on the cold concrete.

The words below it seemed to vibrate against the glass.

“He didn’t sign everything.”

I rubbed my eyes, the exhaustion of the past few weeks catching up to me in a heavy wave.

I tapped the screen and typed a reply.

“Who is this?”

No bubbles appeared.

No typing indicator flickered.

I looked out the kitchen window at the dark Maine driveway.

The pine trees stood like tall, silent sentinels against the night sky.