Chapter 4: The Man at the End of the Street
Maya did not sleep.
She lay on her bed with her wet clothes still on, staring at the ceiling, running through everything she knew.
Her father's phone on the counter.
Seventeen missed calls.
Tuesday morning, *on my way in.* Three days of silence.
And Sarah's face — not worried, not frightened, not even trying to pretend.
Just cold.
And that smile at the end.
*Good luck with that.*
At six in the morning, before Sarah or the children were awake, Maya slipped out of the house through the same bathroom window.
She had twelve dollars in her jacket pocket and her school bus pass.
She walked three streets over to a payphone outside the post office and called the number she had memorized from her father's phone.
It rang twice.
"Hello?" A man's voice.
Tired, like he hadn't slept either.
"Is this Tom?
Tom from my dad's work?"
A pause.
"Who is this?"
"I'm Maya.
Daniel's daughter.
I found his phone at home.
He hasn't been home since Tuesday.
His stepmother — I mean, my stepmother — she said he left.
But I don't believe her."
Silence on the line.
Then: "How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
Another pause, longer this time.
"Maya, your dad didn't come in on Tuesday.
He called in sick Monday afternoon.
Nobody has heard from him since.
I've been calling because his supervisor needs to know if he's coming back, but honestly — " Tom stopped.
"Honestly, I've been worried.
This isn't like him."
Maya pressed the phone hard against her ear.
"Did he say anything to you?
Before Monday?
Was anything wrong?"
"He seemed fine last week." Tom hesitated.
"Although — he did say something on Friday.
We were having lunch and he said he'd been thinking about making some changes.
Getting some things sorted out.
I asked him what he meant and he said he'd tell me when it was done."
"What kind of changes?"
"I don't know.
I assumed he meant the house, or — " Tom stopped again.
"Maya, is there someone you can call?
A relative?
Someone who can help you look into this properly?"
Maya thought of her Aunt Ruth.
Her father's older sister.
She lived forty minutes away by bus and she had never liked Sarah — had said so plainly at the wedding, in front of everyone, and had been quietly excluded from family dinners ever since.
"Yes," Maya said.
"There is."
"Call them today," Tom said.
"And Maya — if you find anything, or if something feels wrong, don't sit on it.
Go to someone official.
Okay?"
"Okay."
She hung up and stood at the payphone for a moment, the morning cold settling around her.
A dog barked somewhere down the street.
A car pulled out of a driveway.
She used the last of her coins to call Aunt Ruth.
Ruth picked up on the first ring.
"Maya?" Her voice was sharp with surprise.
"It's six in the morning.
What's wrong?"
"Dad's been missing since Tuesday," Maya said.
"Sarah has his phone.
She told me he left on purpose.
His work hasn't heard from him either.
I don't know what to do."
The silence that followed was short and decisive.
"Stay where you are," Ruth said.
"I'm getting in the car right now."
Maya leaned against the side of the phone box and looked back down the street toward the house.
The upstairs curtain in Sarah's bedroom moved.
Just slightly.
Someone was standing at the window, looking out.
Maya didn't move.
She looked back.
The curtain fell still.
Forty minutes later, Ruth's old green car pulled up to the curb.
Ruth got out before the engine had fully stopped — a tall woman in her sixties with her brother's same dark eyes, wearing a coat she had clearly thrown on over her nightclothes.
She crossed the pavement in four strides and pulled Maya into a hug so tight it pushed the air out of her lungs.
"Tell me everything," Ruth said into her hair.
"Don't leave anything out."
Maya told her.
All of it.
The rain.
The bread on the concrete.
Lily's chicken.
The phone on the counter.
The seventeen missed calls.
Sarah's face when she said *he left.* The smile.
Ruth didn't interrupt once.
When Maya finished, Ruth was quiet for a moment.
Then she said: "Has Sarah filed a missing persons report?"
"I don't think so."
Ruth's jaw tightened.
"Three days and no report." She looked at the house.
"We're going to the police station.
Right now.
And then we're going to find out exactly what Sarah has been doing since Tuesday."
She put her hand on Maya's shoulder and turned her toward the car.
"You did the right thing calling me," Ruth said.
"Your dad talked to me two weeks ago, Maya.
He told me he had found something out about Sarah.
Something serious.
He said he was going to deal with it."
Maya stopped walking.
"What did he find out?"
Ruth looked at her steadily.
"He didn't tell me the details.
He said he wanted to be sure first." She paused.
May you like
"But he did say one thing.
He said if anything ever felt wrong — if he ever went quiet — I should look at the house accounts."
