The 7:40 train pulled into Fairview, splashing rainwater onto the lamplit platform. The doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, and Emmanuel stepped out. He opened his umbrella and hurried off into the night.
“I’m on him,” Tabitha whispered into her phone. She slipped through the train doors behind him, pulling up the hood on her black winter coat. It was raining hard.
Her hand found the knife in her pocket. She hoped she wouldn’t need it. She missed the comfortable weight of her gun.
Emmanuel made his way through the slippery streets. The stores were all shuttered, closed for the holidays. He checked his watch and walked faster. Tabitha followed him in the shadows. The streets were empty, but she didn’t want to show her face. In the dark, with her hood up, she could have been anyone.
Emmanuel stopped in front of an ornate two-story building. Tabitha watched from around the corner as he let himself in. She hesitated for a moment, then hurried after him into the dim foyer.
A receptionist glanced up for a moment and then back at his phone. Behind him, she could see a short hallway lined with office doors. Emmanuel’s wet footprints led up a spiral staircase to her left. Tabitha followed.
The staircase opened onto another hallway of doors. Tabitha could hear voices, coming from behind a door labeled JONES LAW OFFICES. She pulled out her phone.
He’s meeting a lawyer, she texted Simon. Then she pressed her ear to the dark wood.
“—terribly sorry to hear about your father,” a man’s deep voice was saying.
Emmanuel spoke. “We’re all torn up about it. I just heard they’re reopening it as a murder investigation, can you imagine?”
“Good God.”
“But that’s not what I’m here to discuss. I know Father’s will is… ambiguous.”
“Yes.”
A sigh. “How can I put this? Simon just isn’t prepared to run such an enormous company. Especially when he’s grieving. He hasn’t even finished college yet. I don’t think he’ll be able to handle it.”
Silence.
“I know my father wanted me to inherit the company,” Emmanuel pressed on. “He’s been preparing me all my life. He certainly didn’t intend to sell it, or, God forbid, make it a cooperative. That would be a disgrace to his memory.”
The lawyer paused. “I see,” he said slowly. “I will certainly take that into account.”
“Thank you,” Emmanuel said with great relief.
“The documents are in the other room,” the lawyer said. Tabitha heard footsteps and the click of a door shutting.
She texted Simon: You were right.

The morning sun streamed through the windows. Emmanuel sat at the kitchen island next to an untouched cup of coffee.
Father had died six days before the annual family reunion. Emmanuel had booked the funeral for Christmas Day—the only day available. Dying was popular around the holidays.
“Simon isn’t coming,” Aunt May informed him, stirring the pot of oatmeal.
“Why not?” Emmanuel asked.
“He just called. Says he’s too busy with college.”
Too busy for his father’s funeral? “Is Tabitha still coming?”
“Yes, she’s already on the train.”
“Who’s Tabitha?” nine-year-old Eddie piped up, snatching a cookie off the counter.
“Cousin Simon’s girlfriend, dear. And don’t eat that! We’re about to have breakfast.” Eddie crammed the cookie into his mouth and ran away.
Emmanuel rubbed his forehead. He hated family reunions. All the screaming children made it hard to think… and he needed to think. Desperately.
The police had searched his father’s computer, but, fortunately, they’d failed to find the email. Emmanuel had hidden it as well as he could.
His father had been planning to change his will. But he’d died of a gunshot wound before he could confirm the details. And now Simon was clamoring for his inheritance—and he hadn’t come to Fairview.
Too many loose threads. Too little time.
His phone pinged. A message from the police, to the whole family.
They’d found evidence.

Simon sat in his father’s leather armchair, tapping his feet nervously. One of the police officers glanced at him suspiciously. Outside, the sun was setting in a haze of pink and gold.
He’d come, after all. What choice did he have?
The bearded police officer kept talking. “After days of searching in Mill Creek, we finally located the weapon and traced its serial number. Tell me, are you familiar with this gun?” He pulled out a laminated sheet of paper and passed it to Tabitha.
Her eyes widened. “This is mine. It’s a family heirloom.” She looked up, grasping the implications. “But I didn’t kill him! I lost the gun three weeks ago. Simon can confirm it.”
“You lost your gun?” another officer asked.
“Yes! Simon, tell them!” Tabitha’s voice took on a frenzied edge.
Simon began to sweat. He knew what he had to say.
“She’s right,” he managed. “We looked all over the house.”
The officer peered at him closely. “We’ll still have to take Tabitha into custody.”
Simon stood up sharply. “Emmanuel did it!”
Emmanuel’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Father wanted to change his will,” Simon continued, giddy with adrenaline. “He had a big argument with Father about taking over the company—”
“He’s lying!” Emmanuel shouted.
“—and he pulled a gun—”
Emmanuel stormed towards Simon. “Restrain him!” somebody yelled. Suddenly, a knot of people formed around Emmanuel, and nobody was paying attention to Simon.
The room was closing in on him. He had to get out. Simon slid open the screen door and slipped away.
The last traces of sunset faded from the sky as Simon made his way into the forest. He could hear his heartbeat. The trees loomed close and skeletal.
He stopped, and glanced back at his father’s house. Somebody had decorated the Christmas tree. The high windows spilled warm light over the icy ground.
He thought of all the horrible things his father’s company had done in the name of earning money.
He thought of Emmanuel.
He thought of Tabitha’s gun.
He trudged off into the woods.