The evidence bag swung lightly in Detective Chris Harlow's hand, catching the dim glow of the porch light. Inside, the necklace looked harmless—a delicate chain with a small silver locket Daniela wore almost every day. But the fact that it was found buried outside, hidden like contraband, made it feel like a loaded gun.
"Whoever buried this," Chris said, his voice slicing through the silence, "didn't want us to find it."
All eyes in the living room turned from Chris to one another. No one spoke at first. The tension was suffocating. Jack's gaze darted across the faces: Jimmy chewing his lip, Jake shifting on his feet, Amma clutching her arms tightly across her chest, Anny's wide-eyed stare. Esther looked as though her heart might stop again, while John's jaw clenched so hard a vein pulsed in his temple.
Finally, Jimmy broke the silence. "That doesn't prove anything. Anyone could've buried it. A neighbor. Some stranger passing by."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "At midnight? In her backyard? Not likely."
Jake scoffed. "So what, you think one of us killed her and buried her necklace like idiots?"
Chris didn't answer, which somehow felt worse than if he had accused them outright.
Jack stepped forward. "Where exactly did you find it?"
Chris's eyes lingered on him, then he said, "Near the garden shed. The soil was freshly turned. My team almost missed it."
Jack felt his chest tighten. Daniela loved that necklace. She wouldn't have taken it off willingly, let alone buried it. Whoever did this wanted to hide a piece of her.
"Do you know what's inside the locket?" Chris asked suddenly.
Jack hesitated, then shook his head. Daniela had never opened it around him. She claimed it was "just sentimental."
Chris held the bag higher. "We'll find out."
---
When the police finally left again, promising to return at dawn for a full search of the property, the family remained in the living room, restless and uneasy. The ticking of the clock on the mantel was the only sound for several minutes.
Amma was the first to speak. "Someone in this house knows more than they're saying."
"That's enough," John barked. His voice boomed, carrying the authority he had always held as head of the family. "Daniela is gone, and we won't tear each other apart. Not tonight."
But his demand did nothing to settle the unease. Anny shifted on the sofa, biting her nails. "What if Chris is right? What if it was one of us?"
"Stop it," Esther snapped, her eyes bloodshot from crying. "How could you even suggest that?"
Jake muttered under his breath, "Because maybe it's true."
Everyone's head turned sharply toward him.
"What did you say?" Esther demanded.
Jake leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His eyes were wild, red-rimmed. "She knew something. She told me a week ago she was going to expose someone. She didn't say who, but she said it was 'bigger than all of us.' Now she's dead, and her necklace is buried like trash. You tell me that's coincidence."
The words hung heavy in the air. Jack studied his cousin, wondering if Jake was telling the truth—or deflecting suspicion away from himself.
---
Later that night, unable to sleep, Jack sat alone at Daniela's desk in her bedroom. Chris had already confiscated her laptop, but the drawers were still full of notebooks, receipts, old photographs. Jack flipped through them, desperate for a clue.
In the bottom drawer, under a stack of old papers, he found a small leather journal. His pulse quickened as he opened it. The first few pages were blank, but halfway through he found Daniela's handwriting.
"If something happens to me, it won't be an accident."
Jack's breath caught. He read on.
"I know too much. About Jimmy. About Jake. About Amma. Even Anny. They think I don't see the lies, but I do. One of them will break. I just have to decide when to tell Jack. He's the only one I can trust."
The page ended abruptly, the last line scribbled hastily as though she had been interrupted.
Jack's mind raced. She had been planning to confide in him. She had seen through the masks everyone wore. And now she was dead.
He flipped the pages quickly, but the rest of the journal was empty.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath.
A floorboard creaked behind him. Jack turned sharply, shoving the journal halfway under a stack of papers. Jake stood in the doorway, his face unreadable.
"What are you doing in here?" Jake asked quietly.
"Looking for answers," Jack replied carefully.
Jake's eyes dropped to the desk. "Find any?"
Jack forced a shrug. "Just old bills."
Jake lingered for a moment longer, then stepped into the room. "Listen… if the cops ask, you didn't see me outside tonight, okay?"
Jack narrowed his eyes. "Outside? Where?"
Jake's jaw tightened. "Doesn't matter. Just promise me."
Jack stared at him, his stomach twisting. Why had Jake been outside when the police found the necklace?
Before Jack could press, Jake turned and walked away.
---
The next morning, Chris returned with his team. They combed through the backyard, the shed, the garden. Jack stayed close, watching every move.
Around noon, an officer called out, "Detective! Over here!"
They had uncovered something near the base of a tree: a blood-stained cloth, wrapped tightly around a small object. Chris carefully unrolled it. Inside was a key.
"Whose key is this?" Chris asked, holding it up.
No one answered.
But Jack knew that key. His heart sank as recognition hit him. It was Daniela's spare key—the one she had once given to someone she trusted.
And Jack remembered exactly who.
His eyes darted to Amma. She stood still, her face pale, lips pressed tight.
Chris noticed Jack's stare. "You know something," the detective said.
Jack swallowed hard. "That key… Daniela gave it to Amma."
Gasps erupted from the family. Amma's eyes widened, then narrowed quickly. "That's a lie!" she snapped. "Why would I bury her key? Why would I hurt her?"
Chris's gaze was sharp, suspicious. "That's exactly what I intend to find out."
Amma shook her head furiously, tears welling in her eyes. "No. You don't understand. Daniela gave me that key months ago, but I lost it! I told her! I didn't even know it was missing until now!"
Her denial only deepened the tension. Esther clutched her chest, Anny covered her mouth, and Jake muttered something under his breath no one caught.
Chris slipped the key back into an evidence bag. "Then we'll test it for prints. If you're telling the truth, Amma, you'll have nothing to worry about."
But Jack's gut twisted. Because if Daniela's journal was right, Amma had secrets. And secrets had a way of spilling into blood.
As the officers packed up, Chris turned to the family. "Until we sort this out, none of you leave town. Everyone is a suspect."
His eyes lingered on Amma, then flicked briefly to Jake.
Jack glanced toward Daniela's room upstairs, where the journal now sat hidden under her papers. He couldn't let Chris find it—not yet. Daniela had trusted him, and he needed to know the full truth before handing it over. But as he stood there, watching Amma's trembling hands and Jake's restless shifting, one thought haunted him: The killer was already watching them. And burying secrets wasn't enough anymore.