The hospital corridor was unnatural quiet.
Mary sat with her back against the cold wall, hand folder in her lap, eyes fixed on the closed door where her daughter was sleeping. The machines hummed softly steady and unforgiving, reminded her that time was truly on anyone's side. She learned that lesson long ago.
Her phone vibrated
She didn't answer immediately.
Something in her chest tightened, the moment she saw the caller's name , Mrs Carter's never call without a reason. Never without calculation.
When Mary finally answered, she didn't speak first.
" I don't have much time," Mrs Carter said, her voice was low, measured but beneath it running something sharper _ fear restraint by discipline. " And neither do you."
Mary straightened slightly, " what happened?"
A pause, too long.
" people are asking questions, " Mrs Carter continued. " About Daniel. About the accident. Questions that should be ended weeks ago."
Mary's fingers curled are the phone," that doesn't sound like concern."
" it isn't."
Mrs Carter exhaled slowly," Old name are resurfacing. Men who once vanished, once My husband died are suddenly attentive again. They visit. They call. They smile.
Mary closed her eyes.
Smiles was always the most dangerous part
" they want me to be grateful." Mrs Carter said " Grateful that my son survived, Grateful that the investigation was...resolve."
"And you're not, " Mary said softly.
" No" Mrs Carter replied. " because I have seen this before. "
The words settled heavy between them.
Mary remembered the house in those days _ how grief had hung in the halls like a smoke, how doors had closed quietly. How questions had died unasked. Mrs Carter had survived by choosing silence. But silence had never been free.
" they told me it's was an accident," Mrs Carter continue, " just like they told me before. Wrong place. Wrong time. Nothing to look into."
Mary open her eyes and stared at her reflection of herself in dark glass across in the corridor. She barely recognized the woman staring back _ older, Sharper, forger by loss and necessity.
"And you don't believe them," Mary said.
" I believed someone benefited," Mrs Carter replied, " And I believe Daniel remembers more than he's saying _ or less than he should do."
A chill run through Mary.
" what so you want me to do." She asked, though she already knew the answer.
Mrs Carter's voice lowered further, " I want you to look where u cannot. Quietly. Carefully. I want you to ask questions that won't be traced back to my name."
Mary glanced toward her daughter's door.
" you know what you are asking," she said.
" yes" Mrs Carter answered without hesitation.
" that's why I am asking you."
The call ended soon after. No reassurance. No promises of safety. Mrs Carter has never been a woman who offered illusions.
Mary remained seated long after the screen went dark.
That night, she didn't sleep.
She begin with what she could access from a distance _ Daniel accident report, the medical, the summary, the witnesses statement. At first glanced, everything appeared clean. Too clean. Timelines aligned perfectly. Descriptions, repeated the same phrase , as if copied from single voice.
Mary had learned to distrust perfection.
She noticed a discrepancy in the time Daniel was transported to the hospital. Only a few minutes, barely worth mentioning _ unless someone wanted those minutes erased.
She requested supplemental medical notes through an old contact. The reply came faster than expected. Too fast.
By dawn, she had a name, a witness who had been present but never interviewed directly. Officials, he was," unreachable."
Mary tried calling
The line rang once before disconnecting
Her second attempt didn't go through at all.
Later that afternoon, an email she had sent dissappear from her sent folder.
Mary sat back slowly, heart steady but heavy
Someone was watching.
She hadn't announced her intentions, she hadn't shared them with anyone. And yet door were closing.
That realization didn't frighten her.
It clarified things.
Mary returned to the hospital room and stood besides her daughter's bed, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. She stirred but did not wake up.
" I won't be careless," Mary whispered. " I promised."
But promises were dangerous things.
As she turned away her phone vibrate again.
An unknown number
No message. No missed call, just silent notification _ as if someone wanted to know she had been noticed.
Mary slipped her phone in her pocket.
The past had reached her once more , quietly patiently. And this time I wasn't asking to be remembered.
It's was a warning.