“She wanted it to be a surprise,” Sarah said, and unease washed over me.
Determined to get answers, I drove to the rental company. The manager pulled up the records. “The car was returned without visible damage, but only a few miles were added to the odometer.”
I left with more questions. Why had Karen returned the car? What was she hiding? I decided to contact the police, as suspicions about Elizabeth’s death gnawed at me.
After sharing my concerns, the detective assured me they’d investigate. “Initially, we ruled it a tragic accident caused by brake failure, but we’ll take a closer look.”
Days later, the police found evidence that someone had tampered with the brakes. It wasn’t long before they revealed that Karen had taken out a life insurance policy on Elizabeth, forging her signature to make herself the sole beneficiary.
I was sickened. Elizabeth’s death wasn’t an accident; it was murder, orchestrated by her own sister. During interrogation, Karen confessed to tampering with the brakes, hoping to collect the insurance money.
She was sentenced to life in prison. It didn’t bring Elizabeth back, but at least she would never harm anyone again. The fortuneteller had been right—Elizabeth couldn’t rest until justice was served.
Weeks later, I returned to the cemetery. Standing by Elizabeth’s grave, I whispered, “You can rest now.” As I turned to leave, a butterfly landed on her headstone. I knew it was Elizabeth, finally at peace.
Though I never saw the fortuneteller again, her words had led me to the truth. As painful as it was, that truth was worth every penny of the twenty dollars I had given her.