They arrived at the cemetery just as the sun was fully cresting the horizon. The grounds were empty. The fresh red rose was there, mocking them, vivid against the gray stone. They had missed her by minutes.
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“We wait,” Peter said firmly. “She comes every day. We come back tomorrow, and we wait.” The next twenty-four hours were an agonizing blur. They prepared themselves for a confrontation that was a decade in the making. Why had she returned now? Why only for Michael?
The next morning, they hid behind the maintenance shed at 4:45 AM. The air was freezing. At 5:00 AM sharp, a battered sedan rolled silently through the service entrance. The driver stepped out. It was the woman from the video.
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