“The policy was in the name of a private corporation,” the detective said.

The line crackled with static.

“A corporation registered to a woman named Clara Thomas.”

The name hit me like a splash of cold water.

“Who is Clara Thomas?” I asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Detective Miller said. “But the payouts from that policy were deposited into an account that has been active until today.”

I heard a click on the line, as if someone had joined the call.

Then, the signal cut out completely.

I stared at the black screen of my phone.

The yellow porch light behind Chloe suddenly flickered and went out.

I lowered the phone from my ear.

The screen remained black, reflecting the dim outline of my own face.

I stood beside my car in the driveway, the gravel crunching under my flat shoes as I shifted my weight.

Across the lawn, the music from the backyard patio drifted through the damp night air.

It was a remix of some popular song Chloe liked, the bass thumping against my ribs.