The burial ended. People began drifting toward the reception at a nearby community hall. Daniel stayed glued to my side.
“You should ride with me,” he said as we walked toward the cars.
“I promised Mrs. Carter I’d say goodbye first,” I replied gently. Mrs. Carter was an old neighbor who’d known Robert since the early days.
Daniel hesitated. “All right. But don’t wander off too far.”
“I won’t,” I said, forcing a small smile.
I waited until Daniel turned away. Ten seconds. Twenty. Then I went the opposite direction, moving toward Mrs. Carter, who stood near the cemetery gate with a cluster of people.
I hugged her, listened politely to her memory of Robert fixing her porch steps “like it was nothing,” and then I leaned in.
“Would you mind if I borrowed your phone for a moment?” I asked quietly. “Mine died earlier.”
“Of course, dear,” she said, handing it over without hesitation.
My hands trembled as I stepped a few yards away and dialed the number printed on Robert’s business cards for years.
Arthur Bennett.
It rang once, twice, three times. I almost hung up.
“Arthur Bennett speaking,” a calm voice answered.
For a moment I couldn’t speak. The sound of his voice pulled me backward through time—Robert and Arthur at our kitchen table years ago, coffee cups, paperwork, Arthur’s quiet laugh.
“It’s Christine,” I said finally.
There was a pause. Then his voice changed instantly. “Christine. Are you all right?”
“I just came from the funeral,” I said.
“I know,” he replied softly.
“You know?” My heart began beating faster.
“I received word,” Arthur said carefully.
I swallowed. “I received a message from Robert,” I said. “A note he left with Lucas.”
A slow inhale on the line. “So he did it.”
“Did what?” My throat tightened.
“He prepared a backup,” Arthur said.
The word backup made cold spread across my chest. “Arthur… what did Robert think was happening?”
Silence for a few seconds, except distant traffic.
When Arthur spoke again, his voice was firm. “Christine, listen to me very carefully. Robert came to see me three days before he died.”
My stomach dropped. “Three days ago? He never told me.”
“He was worried,” Arthur continued. “Deeply worried. He believed someone was trying to rush him into signing certain documents.”
“What kind of documents?” I whispered.
“I’d rather explain in person,” Arthur said. “There’s more.”
A longer pause.
“Your husband told me something very specific,” Arthur said slowly.
“What?”
“He said if anything happened to him suddenly, you might be in danger of being pressured.”
“Pressured to do what?”
“To sign things you don’t fully understand.”
My eyes drifted toward the parking lot. Daniel was no longer talking to business partners. He and Laura were scanning the cemetery like they were looking for a lost item.
Me.
“Arthur,” I murmured, “where are you right now?”
“Where are you?” he corrected gently.
“At the cemetery.”
“Good,” Arthur said. “Do not confront anyone. Not yet.”
“All right.”
“And whatever you do,” he continued, “do not sign any paperwork tonight.”
My heart skipped. “Tonight? They’re planning something tonight?”
“I don’t know that for certain,” Arthur replied carefully. “But Robert was very clear about one thing. If you called me, it meant his fears weren’t unfounded.”
The wind swept across the cemetery, rustling leaves around my feet. “What should I do?” I whispered.
