I turned to him, a resolve hardening within me. “Mark, we need to talk,” I started, careful to keep my voice steady. “I think there’s more to what happened to Anna. She’s trying to tell us something.”

He frowned, skepticism etched in his features. “Mom, I know you want to believe—”

“It’s not about belief,” I interrupted, the urgency in my voice crackling like electricity. “I taught her Morse code years ago. She’s communicating. She told me it wasn’t an accident and that someone tampered with her car brakes.”

His expression faltered, a shadow of doubt crossing his face. This was uncharted territory for both of us. We were on the precipice of a truth that could unravel everything we knew.