The Dog Pulled Her Away From the Door—Seconds Later, It Slammed Shut by Itself

Claire forgot how to breathe.

Caleb.

Noah's older brother.

The man who had handled the funeral arrangements when Claire could not stand upright without shaking. The man who had driven her home from the hospital after she fainted at Noah's graveside. The man who still called every Sunday and asked whether she needed groceries.

Mason stopped the recording.

"No," Claire said. "Play it."

"We should bag it first."

"Play it."

He studied her face, then pressed the button.

Static hissed.

Noah's voice returned.

"Caleb says Grandma's land is worth more than Claire knows. He says the south field isn't just pasture. I saw the survey. I saw the payments. If anything happens to me, don't trust—"

A crash swallowed the rest.

Then a second voice, distant but clear enough.

"Give me the recorder, Noah."

Claire closed her eyes.

Caleb's voice.

The clip ended.

Mason stood slowly. "When did you last see him?"

"Yesterday. He brought prenatal vitamins and fixed the back gate."

"Did he know you were coming into this room today?"

Claire thought about the morning. Caleb had called at eight.

Don't lift anything heavy. Stay out of the old storage room. Floorboards are bad.

At the time, she had heard concern.