Finally, she returned to the bank one morning, almost a year after Daniel’s death, exhaustion painted under her eyes. The manager greeted her gravely, as though expecting her. “Mrs. Hale,” he said, “we’ve received notice from Mr. Carver. The time has come. There’s one last box for you to view.”
Maggie followed him into the vault again, her steps unsteady. The small chamber swallowed her as the steel door closed. Another box sat waiting on the table. This time, there was no hesitation. She unlocked it quickly, her breath sharp, ready for answers, no matter how devastating.