Evelyn waited three hours after Detective Ortiz left before she moved again.
Not because she believed the detective would return—but because panic made careless people of the guilty. She sat in the living room, hands folded, breathing slowly, listening for sounds that did not come. No sirens. No footsteps on the porch. No knock.
When the house finally settled back into itself, Evelyn stood.
She retrieved the duffel bag from the closet and carried it to the bedroom, setting it on the bed where Daniel once slept. The zipper sounded too loud in the quiet room.
She opened it again.
Cash. The scarf. The passport.
The smell of iron clung faintly to the fabric, sharp and unmistakable. Evelyn turned the scarf over in her hands, noting the darkened stain near one end. It had been an accident. A struggle. Panic.
She had told herself that lie enough times that it almost felt true.
Evelyn placed the scarf back into the bag and focused on the passport. The cover was worn, edges softened by use. Inside, Mara Ellison stared back at her—expression neutral, eyes steady.
"You should have burned this," Evelyn whispered to herself.
But she hadn't.
Because burning it would mean admitting she'd never believed Mara was truly gone.
---
Evelyn dressed carefully before leaving the house. Neutral colors. Comfortable shoes. Nothing that invited notice. She packed the passport and a bundle of cash into her purse, leaving the rest behind.
She did not take the scarf.
Some things could not be carried twice.
Outside, the city moved with indifferent momentum. Traffic flowed. People hurried past, absorbed in lives untouched by hidden crimes. Evelyn walked to the train station with her head down, counting steps, controlling breath.
She hadn't planned to find Mara.
But she knew where to start.
The address was folded into memory—a scrap of paper Mara had pressed into Evelyn's hand the night everything fractured. A place neither of them had wanted to return to.
The train ride passed in a blur. When Evelyn stepped onto the platform, the air felt heavier, saturated with salt and decay. The neighborhood sat close to the docks, buildings hunched and rusted, windows clouded with neglect.
She found the building easily.
Third floor. No elevator.
Each step up the stairwell felt deliberate, like a countdown.
At the door, she hesitated.
Then she knocked.
Nothing.
She knocked again, harder.
A shuffle sounded inside. The door cracked open, chain still latched. A pair of eyes appeared in the gap.
They widened.
"You weren't supposed to come," Mara said.
Her voice was lower than Evelyn remembered. Rougher.
Evelyn swallowed. "We need to talk."
Mara laughed softly, without humor. "That's what you said last time."
She closed the door, then unlocked it.
Mara Ellison stood thinner than the woman in the photos, her face sharper, shadows beneath her eyes. Her hair was cut short now, uneven, like she'd done it herself. She wore a sweatshirt several sizes too big.
"You're dead," Mara said flatly. "Both of you."
"Daniel is," Evelyn replied.
Mara's jaw tightened. "I know."
The apartment was sparse. Mattress on the floor. One chair. A small table littered with empty coffee cups and cigarette butts.
"You shouldn't be here," Mara said again.
"I know."
Mara's gaze flicked to Evelyn's purse. "Did you bring it?"
Evelyn nodded and handed over the passport.
Mara took it, her hands shaking. She opened it, closed it, then pressed it to her chest.
"They found his body," Mara said quietly.
"Yes."
"You told me he wouldn't die."
"I told you he wouldn't hurt you again."
Mara laughed, brittle. "You're very careful with your words."
"So are you," Evelyn said. "You contacted his phone."
Mara's eyes hardened. "I had to. I thought if I stayed silent, he'd come back."
"He can't."
"That doesn't stop fear."
Silence fell.
Mara looked at Evelyn, really looked at her. "You loved him."
"Yes."
"And you helped me disappear."
"Yes."
Mara's voice dropped. "Did you push him?"
Evelyn didn't answer.
Mara exhaled slowly. "Then it doesn't matter."
It mattered.
But Evelyn understood what Mara meant.
"You broke our agreement," Evelyn said. "You contacted the phone. You threatened me."
Mara's lips trembled. "I'm alone. I don't know how long I can keep running."
Evelyn reached into her purse and placed the cash on the table. "This will help."
"For how long?"
"I don't know."
Mara stared at the money, then at Evelyn. "The detective came to my old office," she said. "They're looking for me."
Evelyn's chest tightened. "Then you need to leave."
"I can't."
"You must."
Mara shook her head. "I won't survive another disappearance."
Evelyn felt the ground shift beneath her.
"You promised," Mara said. "You said once would be enough."
Evelyn stepped closer. "I promised to keep you alive."
Mara met her gaze. "At whose expense?"
The question struck deeper than accusation.
Evelyn thought of Daniel. Of the scarf. Of the grave sealed shut.
"I won't let them find you," Evelyn said.
Mara smiled faintly. "That's what I'm afraid of."
A sound echoed in the stairwell.
Footsteps.
Both women froze.
A knock struck the door.
"Police," a voice called.
Mara's eyes widened. "You said—"
"I didn't," Evelyn whispered.
The knock came again.
Evelyn made a decision.
She grabbed the passport from Mara's hands and shoved it back into her purse. "Stay here," she said. "Don't open the door."
Mara grabbed her wrist. "What are you doing?"
"What I do best."
Evelyn stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her, turning the lock.
The footsteps approached.
Detective Ortiz emerged from the stairwell, eyes sharp, unreadable.
"Mrs. Cross," Ortiz said calmly. "You're far from home."
Evelyn smiled.
"So are you."