From down below, the hum of his computer speakers faded. A moment later, heavy footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs, and David appeared at the top of the landing. He was wearing a faded gray sweatshirt and jeans, his hair slightly rumpled, holding a mug of coffee. He gave us a warm smile that instantly faded the second he saw the rigid stance I held and the furious, terrified expression on my face.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You guys are back early,” David said, setting his coffee mug down on the kitchen counter nearby. “Is everything okay?”

“We need to talk,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, though it carried a force that made him instantly freeze. “We need to talk right now.”

David looked between me and Mason, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion. “Okay… what happened? Did something happen at the market?”

“I saw her, David,” I said, stepping closer to him, my eyes searching his face for any sign of guilt, hesitation, or deceit. “Mason saw her too. The girl in the short dress. The one who comes to our side door while I’m at work.”

David stared at me, completely blank. “What girl? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t lie to me!” The words burst out of my throat before I could stop them, tears finally stinging the corners of my eyes. “She ran away the second she saw us! And there are yellow flowers sitting on our side porch right this second! Mason said she comes here all the time when I’m working!”

David blinked, his confusion visibly deepening into genuine concern rather than guilt. He looked past me toward the open side door, then back to my face. “Sarah, calm down for a second. I swear to you, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t had anyone over. I’ve been downstairs working on the Henderson project all morning.”

“Then why are there flowers on our side porch, David? Why did a young woman run out of Bellmere Market like she was running from the police after Mason pointed her out?”

David rubbed the back of his neck, visibly bewildered. He walked past me, opened the side door, and picked up the vase of sunflowers. He stared at them for a long moment, turning the glass vase around in his hands as if searching for a clue. Suddenly, his posture changed. His shoulders dropped, not in guilt, but in a strange, solemn realization.

He slowly looked up at me, his eyes filled with a deep, sorrowful emotion that completely caught me off guard.

“The sunflowers,” David murmured softly, his voice dropping to an almost reverent tone. “Sarah… did she have light brown hair? A small silver key necklace?”

“Yes,” I whispered, my heart freezing for an entirely different reason now. “Who is she, David? Please, just tell me the truth.”

David let out a long, heavy breath and set the vase back down on the wooden bench. He looked down at Mason, who was standing quietly by my side, watching us with wide, curious eyes.

“Sarah… she’s not here for me,” David said quietly, stepping closer and taking both of my trembling hands in his. “And she’s not a stranger to this house. She’s Clara.”

The name echoed in the quiet hallway, but it meant nothing to me. “Clara? Who is Clara?”

“Clara is the daughter of Arthur Vance,” David explained gently. “The elderly man who lived in this house for forty years before he passed away and we bought the property two years ago.”

I blinked, processing his words slowly as the frantic adrenaline in my blood began to recede, leaving behind a cold, lingering confusion. “The previous owner?”

“Arthur died right here in the living room,” David continued softly. “When we bought the house from the estate, the real estate agent told me that Arthur had a young daughter who had been estranged from him for years after a terrible argument. She moved away to the coast and cut off all contact. By the time she found out he was ill, it was too late. He had already passed away, and the house had been sold to us.”