The morning fog had hung thick over San Francisco as Janin Caldwell stirred her third cup of coffee, her eyes scanning the familiar lines of a financial spreadsheet on her laptop. At 35, she had built a comfortable life for herself, a world away from the coastal town where her sister, Meredith, had vanished five years ago. The apartment’s silence was suddenly shattered by the insistent ring of her phone.

“Miss Caldwell, this is Detective Raymond Flores from the Monterey County Sheriff’s office.”

Janin’s hand tightened around the phone. Any call about Meredith still made her heart lurch, even after all this time. “He’s calling about your sister’s case,” the detective continued, his voice steady. “A recreational diver found something this morning about a quarter-mile offshore from the beach house. We need you to come identify it.”

“What did they find?” Janin’s voice was steadier than she felt.

“A bright yellow waterproof phone case, a type used by kayakers and swimmers, lodged in the coral reef. The diver brought it to our marine patrol station.”

“I’ll leave right now,” Janin said, her mind already racing.

The two-hour drive down Highway 101 felt both endless and far too quick. For five years, Janin had replayed the same questions that had haunted her. Meredith and her fiancé, David, both 28, had been so happy, so full of plans. Their engagement party at the beach house was supposed to be a celebration. Instead, they had simply vanished into the night, leaving no trace but their cars in the driveway. The prevailing theory, one that offered a semblance of closure, was a tragic drowning. The coastline here was beautiful but treacherous, with unexpected currents that could pull even the strongest swimmers out to sea. It was the only explanation that made sense in a case with no other clues.

The Marine Patrol station was a weathered wooden building on the pier, blending in with the fishing boats and tourist shops. Detective Flores met her at the entrance, a man in his 50s with kind eyes and the patient demeanor of someone who had delivered too much bad news. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said, leading her down a narrow hallway that smelled of salt and diesel fuel. “The forensics team has already processed the case, but we need confirmation on the contents.”

Inside the sterile white evidence room, a stark contrast to the rustic exterior, a bright yellow waterproof case lay on a metal table. It had been opened, and its contents were arranged with meticulous precision. Janin’s breath hitched. There was Meredith’s rose-gold iPhone, still pristine after five years underwater. Next to it was a small, white plastic object. A pregnancy test.

“Oh my God,” Janin gasped, sinking into the chair the detective offered. “She was pregnant.”

“That’s what we’re trying to determine,” Detective Flores said. “The phone still works. These waterproof cases are remarkably effective. We charged it up.” He turned the phone to face her. The lock screen photo showed Meredith and David on that very beach, her reddish-blonde hair whipping in the wind as she laughed. David’s arms were wrapped around her, his dark, curly hair tousled, both of them radiant with happiness. It was exactly as Janin remembered them.

“It’s definitely her phone,” Janin confirmed, her voice thick with emotion. “I took that photo at their engagement party three months before they disappeared.”

“The last activity on the phone was that Friday night,” the detective explained. “Some messages, a few photos from earlier in the day. Nothing to indicate plans to leave or any kind of distress. As for the pregnancy test… the screen has deteriorated after five years underwater, but our forensics team believes it was likely positive. People don’t typically save negative tests, especially not by securing them in a waterproof case with their phone.” He paused, letting the weight of the new information settle. “This discovery changes things significantly, Miss Caldwell.”

“How?” she asked.

“The initial investigation concluded pretty quickly. The assumption was they were swept away by a rogue current. It happens more often than people think along this coast. Both of them disappearing together, no signs of a struggle at the house, no financial problems, no relationship issues that anyone knew about. Drowning seemed the only logical explanation. But now… a pregnancy would have been a significant event in their lives. The fact that she had this test with her, protected in this case, suggests she considered it important. We’ll need to re-examine everything—their relationships, their plans, anyone who might have known about the pregnancy. Did she mention anything to you about it?”

Janin slowly shook her head. “Nothing. We talked every week, sometimes more. She would have told me. She would have been so happy. They both wanted kids.”

“I’m sorry to stir all this up again,” Detective Flores said softly. “But this is the first real evidence we’ve had in five years. The diver who found it said it was deeply embedded in the coral. It’s likely been there since the night they disappeared.”

“Are you going to reopen the case?” Janin asked.

“Technically, it never closed, it just went cold. But yes, this warrants a fresh look at everything. I’ll need you to be available while you’re in town. Do you plan to visit the beach house?”

Janin hadn’t planned on it, but the idea now took root. “I do. I still have a key. The caretaker keeps it up.”

“Harold, yes. Good man. If you find anything that might be relevant—photos, letters, anything that could shed light on the pregnancy or their state of mind that week—please let us know immediately.”

As Janin left the station, the weight of this new knowledge pressed down on her. Meredith had been pregnant. Her sister had been carrying a child when she vanished into the Pacific. The image of that small, white test, preserved like a message in a bottle for five years, would haunt her for a long time.

The drive from Monterey to Carmel was a short twenty minutes, but Janin felt every single mile weighing on her shoulders. The coastal route twisted through groves of cypress trees and dramatic cliffs where the Pacific crashed against ancient rock. She had avoided this drive for three years since the memorial service where they had scattered symbolic flowers on the waves for Meredith and David.

The beach house sat on a prime piece of land overlooking Carmel Beach, a two-story craftsman-style home with weathered cedar shingles and white trim. Even from the driveway, Janin could see how meticulously it had been maintained. The garden bloomed with the same purple sage and orange poppies Meredith had planted, as if frozen in perpetual spring.

Harold, the caretaker, emerged from the side yard before she had even turned off the engine. In his 60s, he moved with the careful gait of someone who had spent decades battling the coastal weather. His weathered face cracked into a sad smile when he recognized her. “Miss Janine,” he said, pulling off his work gloves. “It’s been a long time.”

“Hi, Harold. The place looks beautiful.”

He nodded with silent pride. “Mr. Marcus Ashford makes sure of that. Pays me regular every month like clockwork. Says we have to keep the place up, you know, just in case they…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought that, after five years, seemed more like denial than hope.

“That’s very generous of him,” Janin managed to say.

“He’s been a good man, Mr. Ashford, honoring David’s memory like that. He comes by to check on the place sometimes. Says he wants to make sure everything’s just as they left it. Can’t be easy for him either, losing his best friend and business partner just like that.”

Janin clutched the key in her pocket, the one she’d never had the heart to throw away. “I need to go inside, Harold. Just for a little while.”

“Of course, of course. You take all the time you need. I’ll be right out here if you need anything.”

The front door opened to a flood of memories. The living room remained exactly as Meredith had decorated it: coastal elegance with white slipcovered furniture, driftwood accents, and abstract ocean paintings she’d collected from local artists. Everything was clean, dust-free, as if the occupants had only just stepped out to run an errand. Janin moved through the rooms like a ghost. The kitchen still had Meredith’s collection of sea glass in a bowl on the counter. The refrigerator hummed, empty but functional. In the dining room, the table was set for six—the dinner party that never happened.

She went upstairs, each creaking floorboard both familiar and foreign. The master bedroom door was ajar. Inside, the king-sized bed was made with military precision. The decorative pillows arranged just as Meredith would have placed them. The room smelled faintly of lavender sachets, a touch from Harold to keep it fresh.

Janin started with the obvious places—nightstands, the top of the dresser. Everything was neat, untouched. She moved into the walk-in closet where Meredith’s clothes hung in color-coordinated rows. Brushing past the fabrics brought tears to her eyes. These were the outfits her sister would never wear again, the shoes that would never dance at her wedding. In the back of the closet, a built-in chest of drawers held accessories. Janin opened drawer after drawer: belts, sunglasses, perfectly organized jewelry boxes. In the very bottom drawer, beneath a pile of silk scarves, her fingers found something that didn’t belong: a leather-bound journal.

Meredith’s journal. Janin recognized it immediately. She had given it to her sister for Christmas the year before she disappeared. Her hands trembled as she carried it to the bed, sitting on the edge to turn the pages. The entries started sporadically—thoughts on wedding planning, funny anecdotes about David’s attempts at cooking—but the entries from that final week were different, more frequent, more urgent.

Monday. The test was positive. Three tests, actually. I had to be sure. David doesn’t know yet. I’m terrified and thrilled and completely overwhelmed. We always said we’d wait until after the wedding, until the business was more stable, but maybe this is the universe telling us it’s time.

Tuesday. David came home stressed again. Another fight with Marcus over the expansion. M. wants to open offices in London and Tokyo within a year. The numbers make my head spin. We’d have to leverage everything, bring in investors. David thinks it’s too much, too fast. I heard them yelling in the home office. Marcus accused David of holding him back. David said Marcus cared more about money than friendship. They’ve been like brothers for so long. This is tearing them apart.

Wednesday. I still haven’t told David about the baby. Waiting for the right time. Maybe I’m a coward, but I want him to be at peace when he knows. Not stressed about Marcus and the business. I started planning how to announce it at the Friday dinner. Marcus will be there. Maybe the baby news will help everyone put things in perspective. Family first, always.

Thursday. I overheard David on the phone with the lawyer. He’s thinking about buying Marcus out or being bought out himself. My heart broke hearing it. Ten years building Innovate Tech together. And now this. When I tell them about the baby tomorrow, maybe it will remind them what really matters. David will be a wonderful father. I know he’ll choose stability for our child over Marcus’s grand ambitions. I just hope Marcus understands.

The final entry was dated Friday morning. Tonight’s the night. I bought a little onesie that says, “Coming Soon.” Going to put it in a gift box for after dinner. Praying this brings everyone together instead of pulling them further apart. David keeps asking why I’m so nervous about a simple dinner party. If he only knew. By tomorrow, everything will be different. Our little family beginning just as another chapter ends.

Janin’s vision blurred as she photographed each page with trembling hands. Her sister had been caught between her loyalty to David and her hopes for the future, trying to navigate the disintegration of a business partnership that was destroying a friendship. The pregnancy, that precious secret, had been Meredith’s hoped-for peace offering.

A gentle knock on the bedroom door made her jump. Harold was in the doorway, concern wrinkling his features. “Just checking on you, Miss Janine. Water? I could make some tea?”

“I’m fine, Harold, thank you. Just… looking for some closure.”

He nodded, understanding in his weathered eyes. “You take all the time you need. I’ll be outside if you change your mind about that tea.”

After he was gone, Janin sat in the silence of her sister’s bedroom, the heavy journal in her hands. Meredith had walked into that Friday dinner, carrying not just the secret of a new life but the hope that it would heal the growing rift between David and Marcus. Instead, she had disappeared into the night, taking all her secrets with her. Until now.

The sound of tires on gravel drew Janin’s attention to the window. A black Tesla Model S pulled into the driveway, its sleek lines incongruous with the rustic beach house setting. She recognized the driver immediately, even before he stepped out. Marcus Ashford emerged from the car with the same confident swagger she remembered, though five years had added touches of gray to his dark hair at the temples. At 38, he still cut an impressive figure in his tailored navy suit. The casual wealth of Silicon Valley success was evident in every detail, from his Italian leather shoes to his titanium watch.

His face registered genuine surprise when he saw her through the window. By the time she reached the front door, he was already bounding up the porch steps, his arms outstretched. “Janin, my God, I had no idea you were in town.” His hug was warm, enveloping her in expensive cologne and what felt like sincere affection.

“Harold messaged me that someone was at the house. I thought maybe it was the real estate agent. I’ve had a few inquiries over the years.”

“Hi, Marcus.” She pulled away, studying his face. The boyish charm that had made him such a successful entrepreneur had matured into something more refined, though his dark eyes held the same intensity she remembered.

“Come on in, please. I was just…” She gestured vaguely toward the interior.

“Of course, I don’t want to intrude, just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” He followed her inside, his gaze sweeping the familiar space. “God, it’s like stepping back in time, isn’t it?”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here,” Janin said, sitting on the sofa. Marcus took the chair opposite her. “There’s been a development. A diver found Meredith’s phone this morning in a waterproof case near the reef.”

Marcus went very still. “Her phone?”

“With something else,” Janin said, watching his face carefully. “A pregnancy test.”

“What?” The shock seemed genuine, his hand going to his chest. “Meredith was pregnant?”

“It appears so. The police are reopening the investigation.”

Marcus leaned back, running a hand through his hair in a gesture she remembered from years ago when he was processing difficult information. “Jesus. I had no idea. She never said anything. Would you like some water?” Janin offered, needing a moment herself.

“Let’s go out on the deck. I need some air.” They moved outside, where the late afternoon sun painted the ocean in shades of turquoise and deep blue. The deck furniture remained as it had always been: the teak dining set where they had shared so many meals, the comfortable loungers where Meredith loved to read. Marcus stood at the railing, his hands gripping the weathered wood.

“That weekend was supposed to be a celebration. We had just landed the Texsoft contract, the biggest deal in our company’s history. David and I had worked 18-hour days for two months to close it.”

“Did he tell you about the dinner?” Janin asked.

“Of course. Meredith planned the whole thing. She said she had something special to announce as well, but I just assumed it was about the wedding venue or something.” He turned to face her, leaning against the railing. “I drove up from the city that Friday night. Got here around 7:30. Lights were on, both cars in the driveway. I knocked, rang the bell, nobody answered. That’s odd, I thought. But David’s car keys weren’t on the hook by the door where he always left them, so I just assumed they had gone out. Maybe decided to celebrate on their own first. Have a romantic dinner before the party.” He smiled sadly. “They were like that, you know? Still acted like newlyweds, even after three years together. So I left. I tried calling both their phones until about 9. Sent them texts to call me when they got back. I had dinner in town. Figured I’d see them in the morning.”

His voice grew quieter. “Saturday, I had meetings back in the city. I texted David about our golf game on Sunday. We had a standing reservation at Pebble Beach. When he didn’t reply by Sunday morning, I got worried. That’s when I called the police. I drove here first. Everything looked normal, except they weren’t here. That’s when I knew something was wrong. David would never miss golf without a word. Never.” He paused, looking out at the ocean. “The police said to wait 24 hours, but I insisted. Good thing, too. That storm rolled in Sunday night.”

Janin joined him at the railing. “I found Meredith’s journal. She wrote about planning to announce the pregnancy at that dinner. She hoped it would help smooth things over between you and David about the business expansion.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “What do you mean?”

“She wrote about arguments, disagreements about taking on debt for international expansion.”

He slowly shook his head. “Meredith never told me about any pregnancy. God, what a tragedy. The baby, too.” His voice broke. “If I had only known, if she had only told me that night…”

Something in his phrasing made Janin pause, but she couldn’t put her finger on what felt off. The emotion seemed real, the regret genuine. “I’m sorry,” Marcus continued. “This must be incredibly difficult for you. Is there anything I can do? Any way I can help?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m still processing.”

“I want you to know,” he said, turning to face her completely. “I’ve tried to honor their memory. The business is thriving. We did expand internationally, just as I had planned, but I’ve never forgotten that it was built on David’s foundation, too. I even established the Meredith and David foundation. It provides scholarships for young entrepreneurs.”

“That’s very generous.”

“It’s what they would have wanted.” He checked his phone. “Listen, I’ll be in the city all week for meetings. If you need anything, anyone to talk to, help with arrangements—anything at all, please call me. Harold has my number.”

As he headed for the door, Janin found herself studying him. The successful businessman, the grieving friend, the keeper of their memory. All the pieces fit, and yet, something unsettled her—some instinct she couldn’t name.

“Thank you, Marcus, for everything you’ve done here.”

He paused at the door. “They were family to me. It’s the least I could do.”

After his Tesla disappeared down the coastal road, Janin remained on the deck, watching the waves crash against the rocks where her sister loved to walk. Marcus Ashford had given all the right answers, shown all the appropriate emotions. So why did she feel like she had just witnessed a performance?

The marina stretched out before Janin in a forest of masts and rigging, the late afternoon sun glinting on the water between the boat slips. She needed to clear her head after the unsettling encounter with Marcus, to process everything she had learned. The familiar scent of salt water and diesel fuel brought back memories of summers spent here with Meredith, learning to sail on their father’s small Catalina. She walked past the harbor master’s office toward the public pier, where tourists fed seagulls and fishermen tried their luck. The Yacht Club restaurant stood at the end of the pier, its blue and white awnings billowing in the breeze. Through the windows, she could see waitstaff preparing for dinner service.

“Excuse me, Miss Janine?” A woman had emerged from the side entrance of the restaurant, wearing the black pants and white shirt of the serving staff. She was in her 50s with salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a tight bun and nervous eyes that kept glancing toward the parking lot.

“Yes?” Janin said.

“I’m Elena, Harold’s wife.” The woman came closer, lowering her voice. “I heard you were in town. Harold told me at lunch. I… I’ve been wanting to talk to someone for years, but Harold forbade it. Said it was none of our business.”

“Talk about what?” Janin’s pulse quickened.

Elena looked around again, then led Janin behind a boat trailer, out of sight from the road. “That night—the night your sister went missing—I was closing up the restaurant. We had a wedding reception that went late. Must have been close to 2 a.m. when I was walking to my car.”

“What did you see?”

“Mr. Ashford’s boat. That big cabin cruiser of his. I saw it pulling out of the private slip near your sister’s beach house. The navigation lights were on, and I could see someone at the helm. It just struck me as odd.”

“Why odd?”

“Because earlier that night, around 9:30, Mr. Ashford had come into the restaurant bar. He had a whiskey, complained to the bartender that David and Meredith had stood him up for dinner. Said he’d waited, but they must have gone out. But then there was his boat leaving their dock at 2 a.m.”

Janin felt a chill despite the warm afternoon. “Did you tell anyone?”

Elena’s face crumpled. “I wanted to. When the police were investigating. I wanted to say something, but…” she looked toward the parking lot again. “Mr. Ashford pays Harold’s salary. He has for years. He’s been good to us. Helped when Harold needed surgery. Gave us loans when times were tough. Harold said I must have been mistaken, that it was dark. Could have been any boat.”

“But are you sure it was his?”

“I know boats, Miss Janine. My father was a fisherman. That was the Ashford Caylor. No doubt about it, the way it sat in the water, that distinctive blue stripe.” Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “But what could I say? That I saw his boat out late? Maybe he went for a night fish, maybe he went back to see if they were okay. Harold said if I caused trouble for Mr. Ashford with no proof of anything bad, we’d lose everything.”

A pickup truck rattled into the parking lot and Elena’s face went pale. “That’s Harold. I have to go. Please don’t tell him I talked to you. He’s a good man. He’s just protecting our security.” She hurried back toward the restaurant, disappearing inside just as Harold’s truck parked near the harbormaster’s office.

Janin stood frozen behind the boat trailer, her mind racing. Marcus had lied about leaving at 9. He had been at the beach house dock at 2 a.m., hours after Meredith and David had supposedly disappeared. Before she could second-guess herself, Janin got in her car and drove the short distance to Cannery Row. Marcus had mentioned his boathouse there during one of their past conversations, when he and David were planning to buy a larger boat for entertaining clients. The historic waterfront had been transformed from Steinbeck’s sardine canneries into tourist shops and restaurants, but a few working boathouses remained at the far end. She found Marcus’s easily, a newer structure with “Ashford Marine” painted on a discreet sign. The main doors were closed, but a side entrance was slightly ajar. Janin pushed it open, calling, “Marcus? Hello?”

The interior was gloomy, lit by high windows on the walls. The space was organized and clean. Shelving for tools lined one wall, boat parts stored on racks, a workbench with maintenance equipment. His cabin cruiser wasn’t there, likely moored in the marina. In the corner, she noticed a stack of industrial tarps, the heavy-duty kind used in construction. A number of gallon containers lined the shelf above them, their labels faded, but the smell of bleach unmistakable even from across the room. Her stomach tightened. Janin turned. Marcus was in the doorway she had just come through, looking puzzled, but not alarmed.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “The door was open and I just… I wanted to thank you again for keeping up the house.”

He smiled, walking past her to turn on the overhead lights. “No need to apologize. I should keep that door locked. But the maintenance guys are in and out all day.” He noticed her looking at the tarps and cleaning supplies. “Impressive collection, right? Boat maintenance is messier than most people think.”

“Those tarps look industrial strength.”

“They have to be.” He walked over and lifted a corner of one, showing its thickness. “When you’re cleaning fish or working on the hull, normal tarps don’t cut it. Blood, fish guts, bottom paint—all of it seeps right through regular material. These protect the deck and the dock.”

“And the bleach?” Janin asked, her voice a little too high.

He laughed, a natural sound that made her feel silly for her suspicions. “The eternal battle against fish smell and mildew. You bring in your catch, and if you don’t sanitize everything immediately, your boat smells like a fish market for weeks. I learned that the hard way.” He gestured to a corner where fishing rods stood in a rack, tackle boxes neatly arranged beneath. “I’ve gotten more into deep-sea fishing since… well, since David was gone. He always wanted to go after the big ones, marlin, tuna. I do it now. In his memory.”

“That’s nice,” Janin managed to say, feeling increasingly uneasy.

“It is,” Marcus said, his face lighting up. “Why don’t you come with me tomorrow? The weather’s supposed to be perfect, and I could use the company. We could talk about Meredith and David, share some good memories. Sometimes being out on the water helps. Think about it. No pressure, but the offer’s still there.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a conference call in 20 minutes, but please feel free to look around if you’d like. Just lock the door on your way out.”

After he was gone, Janin remained in the boathouse, trying to reconcile what she had learned. Elena had seen his boat at 2 a.m. His boathouse contained industrial-strength tarps and bleach. A business disagreement had been brewing, and a secret pregnancy was about to be revealed—a secret that could have changed everything for Marcus. He had so much to lose if David bought him out. The pieces, though circumstantial, began to form a chilling picture. She took a photo of the industrial cleaning supplies with her phone, her heart pounding.

When she drove back toward Monterey, a new kind of dread settled over her. The detective had told her that a new look at everything was warranted, and she had just found the central piece of the puzzle. Marcus had a motive. He had a cover story, a boat, and a reason to lie about his whereabouts. Janin’s hands were shaking as she pulled up to the Marine Patrol station. Her sister’s journal was tucked securely under her arm, the photos of the boathouse on her phone, all the evidence of a secret life and a potential crime.

Detective Flores met her at the door, his kind eyes now holding a professional urgency. “Miss Caldwell, I was just about to call you. Our team has finished processing the phone. We found a draft message in her unsent texts. It was to David’s mother, Jane. It read, “Hi Jane, I have some very exciting news that I wanted to tell you about. I am hoping you can come to a celebratory lunch next week. I am pregnant. So happy to be giving you a grandchild! I hope we can see you soon. Love Meredith.” The text was written on Friday afternoon.

“I found her journal,” Janin said, her voice trembling. “And I talked to Harold’s wife, Elena. And I went to Marcus Ashford’s boathouse.”

The detective listened, his expression growing more serious with each detail. Janin laid out the entire story, from Meredith’s fear about the business partnership to Elena’s eyewitness account of Marcus’s boat leaving at 2 a.m. and the chilling discovery of the industrial cleaning supplies. When she finished, the detective didn’t speak for a long moment. He just looked at her with a new kind of respect.

“We always thought they went out on the water,” he said slowly, his mind racing through the new possibilities. “We just never considered they went out on someone else’s boat. That was very brave of you, Miss Caldwell. That was not a safe thing to do.” He picked up his phone. “It’s time we had another chat with Mr. Ashford. This time, he won’t be in the comfort of a beach house.”

The next day, Marcus Ashford was brought into the station for questioning. He arrived with a high-priced lawyer and the same calm demeanor. But this time, Detective Flores was armed with new information. “Mr. Ashford, we have a witness who saw your boat leaving Meredith and David’s dock at 2 a.m. that Friday morning. Can you explain that?”

Marcus’s face went white. The cool mask of a successful businessman finally cracked. “It was an accident,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. “We were arguing. I went back to try and make things right. They had already gone out on the boat. David and I started yelling, and Meredith… she got in the middle. She slipped. David tried to grab her. He stumbled. They… they fell. It was an accident. I swear.” His composure dissolved, and he put his head in his hands.

“And the tarps? And the bleach?” the detective asked.

Marcus looked up, his eyes pleading. “I panicked. I cleaned everything up. I took the boat out to sea… I didn’t know what to do.”

As the truth finally emerged, Janin listened from a nearby room, tears streaming down her face. It wasn’t a tragic accident. It was a murder, born of greed and a desperate attempt to cover up a mistake. Marcus had gone back to convince David to go forward with the business deal, and when David wouldn’t budge, the argument had escalated. In the chaos, Meredith had fallen first, and David, in a desperate attempt to save her, had stumbled, following her into the cold embrace of the Pacific. Marcus, a man who had everything, had lost his closest friend and his moral compass in a matter of seconds. He had covered his tracks, lied to the police, and then acted as a grieving friend and benefactor for five years. The pregnancy, the secret that was supposed to bring everyone together, had instead driven a wedge between two friends and ultimately led to their demise. The journal and the preserved pregnancy test had been a message from the grave, a truth preserved by the ocean, just waiting for the right person to find it.