Page 7 of Her Final Hours (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #3)
T he Bronco idled in the driveway, humming steadily as his tired eyes fixed on the illuminated house.
If he was honest, he would miss the waterfront property, nestled by the serene lake.
It exuded an aura of tranquility, especially at night when the soft glow of lights spilled out from the windows, casting warm hues against the surrounding darkness.
A wave of regret washed over him as he sat there contemplating his conversation with Natalie and reflecting on the tumultuous months since Lena’s passing.
His gaze lifted to an upstairs window where Noah saw Mia moving past the pane.
A pang of remorse coursed through him, wondering if he had been too hard on her.
The sight of her stirred a memory of the young girl at the hospital and the missing poster of Payton Scott.
Her haunted eyes lingered in his mind, a reminder of the fragile nature and complexities of the world .
With a sigh, Noah finally stepped out of his vehicle and entered the house. “Hello,” he called out, his voice filled with weariness and longing. The sound of Aunt Gretchen chatting with Ethan emanated from the kitchen. He kicked off his shoes and headed in.
“Still up?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Gretchen smiled. Ethan was sitting at the kitchen island, sipping a drink.
“He couldn’t sleep. I made him a warm drink,” Gretchen said, her voice warm and comforting.
“How has she been?” he asked, referring to Mia.
“Oh, you know,” Gretchen replied, wiping down the granite countertop.
Noah set down a bag of groceries he had bought on the way home and expressed his gratitude. “Thanks, Gretchen. I can take it from here.”
She kissed Ethan on the cheek, and he chuckled before she strode over and embraced Noah, reminding him to reach out if he needed anything. Noah guided Ethan upstairs to his room as she bid farewell and departed.
Noah passed Mia’s room, only to see her swiftly close the door before he could speak. Ethan, ever observant, remarked, “She’s just annoyed because you took her phone.”
He acknowledged the comment, assuring Ethan that Mia would get her phone back.
Together they entered his room, where Ethan climbed into a comfortable bed adorned with a plaid comforter.
Since moving in, Ethan had quickly added his touch to the space.
It reflected everything about his once vibrant energy and evolving interests.
The walls were adorned with colorful posters showcasing his musical inclinations and personal movie heroes.
Among them, bands and musicians ranging from rock legends to ’80s celebrities captured his eclectic taste.
The room had a well-loved Fender guitar propped up against an amplifier, hinting at Ethan’s newfound interest in music.
A stack of books, precariously balanced on a small nightstand, was a testament to his curiosity about the world and stories.
The shelf’s surface revealed a clutter of knick-knacks: a Rubik’s Cube half-solved, a collection of colorful guitar picks, and a few worn-out playing cards peeking out from beneath a pile of handwritten song lyrics.
Noah would tell him to keep them in case he became a household name. He could auction them off for charity.
Noah’s gaze fell upon a few stray clothes scattered across the floor, a reminder of the untidiness that had slowly taken over.
Gathering them up, he readied himself to take them to the laundry, but not before urging Ethan to tidy his room the following day.
He glanced at a study desk cluttered with school books, notebooks, and loose sheets of paper, dominating another corner of the room.
A Mac computer stood at the ready, accompanied by a mishmash of cables and headphones.
Post-it notes with reminders and inspirational quotes were scattered across the monitor, reflecting Ethan’s attempts to stay positive amidst the chaos of adolescence and the death of his mother.
They were each dealing with it in their way. Ethan retreating into his room, jotting notes, making music; Mia acting out, drinking, and lying.
Noah pulled over an armchair near the window, providing a cozy spot for Ethan to retreat with a book or strum his guitar.
Tattered concert tickets that hadn’t been used because of the funeral were carefully taped to the wall, serving as a memento of an experience missed.
Lena was supposed to take them. Soft ambient lighting emanated from a desk lamp, casting a warm glow over the room.
Settling into the chair, Noah tried to connect with his son on a deeper level. “How are you doing, kid?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
“I’m fine,” Ethan replied, though the shadows of uncertainty danced in his eyes. Noah pressed further, his paternal instincts yearning for openness.
“You’d tell me if you’re not, right?”
Ethan nodded, a subtle admission that he trusted his father with his emotions.
“I know it’s been hard since the accident, but...” Noah’s words trailed off as Ethan interrupted, his curiosity piqued.
“Was it an accident, Dad? Mia says you aren’t telling us everything.”
Noah dipped his head, acknowledging the weight of Mia’s suspicions. “Is that what she said?” he asked softly, not so much of a question as a check to see if it was him that wanted to know more than her. Ethan nodded, and a heavy silence hung in the air.
“We’re still investigating it,” Noah finally confessed, meeting his son’s gaze with a mixture of resolve and vulnerability.
The young teen stared back, searching for answers that even his father didn’t possess.
The truth was he didn’t know fully. Any circumstantial evidence had been destroyed in the water after the vehicle went in — hair, fibers, DNA.
They had received many tips, but following up on them was exhausting and lengthy.
Most went nowhere and amounted to people making assumptions about others they didn’t like in the community.
As their eyes locked, Noah felt the darkness that had engulfed their lives, a newfound fear that had tainted the once sturdy foundation.
“Was that where you were tonight?” Ethan inquired, a hint of curiosity lacing his voice.
Noah shook his head, a sense of duty etched upon his face as he replied.
The weight of their shared burden lingered in the room; the ever-present elephant in the room that should have permeated every conversation and interaction had taken a backseat as each tried to come to terms with the loss.
Noah knew that keeping his family safe was his top priority, yet keeping information from them threatened to erode the trust they had built together.
“No, I was working on something else,” he responded.
He hesitated momentarily, chewing over how much to reveal to his son.
It was a delicate balance between protecting his innocence and ensuring trust. “I was trying to help a girl,” Noah continued, his gaze drifting towards the window as if searching for answers in the darkness beyond.
His mind wandered back to the hospital, to Jane Doe with the haunting cuts on her legs and the mystery that surrounded her.
“Things are happening… that I can’t fully explain yet. ”
Ethan’s eyes widened; his father’s cryptic words piqued his curiosity. “What kind of things?” he asked, excitement and apprehension coloring his tone. Noah paused, his thoughts clouded by responsibility. He chose his words carefully, trying to shield him from the investigation’s danger.
“I don’t have the answers, but… there are things in this world that are hidden that we don’t always understand until we have the fuller picture, and sometimes we don’t get even that,” he said, as his brow furrowed. “Sometimes, people need help, and I do my best to see how we can make things right.”
A flicker of admiration sparked in Ethan’s eyes as he absorbed his words. “Like the way you solved Uncle Luke’s murder?” he ventured, a glimmer of understanding crossing his face. Noah nodded, a smile touching his lips.
“Something like that,” he affirmed. “But that’s enough questions for tonight,” he said, rising from the chair and reassuringly touching his son’s shoulder. “You need to get some sleep. You have school tomorrow. ”
As Noah went to leave the room, Ethan piped up. “Dad.”
“Yeah?”
“Can you leave the door slightly open?”
“Sure. Sure thing,” he replied, reflecting on the darkness that had crept into their lives.
It was a darkness that required unwavering determination and necessitated protecting his family, including his boy, from the total weight of its presence.
Noah approached Mia’s closed door with a heavy heart but a flicker of hope.
He lifted a hand to knock, but before he did, he saw the light below the door go out as if she already heard him. “Goodnight, Mia.”
There was no reply. Noah didn’t expect one.