Margaret drove away slowly, the envelope on the seat beside her. The car’s riddle was solved, and thankfully, there was no blood involved, only a man who chose a new life and built something worth remembering. She realized, then, she wasn’t carrying a ghost; she was carrying a legacy, long buried, but now alive again.
Later, Margaret sat once more in Evelyn’s living room, the photograph from Canada on the table. She spoke gently of David’s life there—his work, music, friendships, and peaceful passing. Through the tears, Evelyn’s smile was steady. She whispered, “He lived the life he wanted.” Margaret squeezed her hand, feeling the weight of forty years finally ease into something lighter.