Accident or Murder?

By Michelle Godard-Richer

Obsession, secrets, revenge…a tense, suspenseful story where the past intrudes on the present. One plot twist after another keeps the pages turning. I could NOT stop reading.” - Ivanka Fear, author of The Dead Lie

Eliza has lived half her life haunted by the memory of her sister, Sasha’s, suspicious death. The police ruled her death an accident, but Eliza is certain that Sasha’s boyfriend, Kristian, got away with her murder. Over the years, Eliza’s grief has morphed into obsession. She’s determined to make Kristian pay, no matter the cost.

Kristian has moved on: newly married to Adrianna, he’s trying to balance a fractured marriage with the dangerous ties he maintains to a criminal organization. Meanwhile, Adrianna struggles to step out of her husband’s oppressive shadow and gain her independence.

Both are blind to the danger that's closing in, unaware that their every word, action, and weakness is being studied by someone determined to destroy them.

A dark psychological thriller, Michelle Godard-Richer's ACCIDENT OR MURDER? is a twisted tale of guilt, obsession and vengeance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Oct 10, 2025

Book preview

Chapter 1

Eliza

The doorbell rang.

I paused with a forkful of spaghetti halfway to my mouth and twisted in my chair to face the door. A sense of foreboding crawled like a tarantula along my skin, and knots twisted in my stomach. Unable to eat another bite, I set the fork on my plate.

Mom and Dad frowned at each other from opposite ends of the table. They’d both aged ten years in the last three weeks, with deeper frown lines and bags under their eyes. None of us had slept well since my sister Sasha disappeared.

She occupied every minute of my day and starred in my dreams at night. Her face stared back at me from missing posters everywhere I went—school, fast food restaurants, lamp posts along the streets, and the library. At least in my dreams, even though some of them were terrifying and awful, I could see her again and hear her voice. Every morning, I opened my eyes, and her disappearance hit me in the chest and stole my breath.

My parents and I couldn’t bear to stay home with her empty spot at the dinner table and her cushion on the couch vacant. Hence, the relentless searching. We’d taken part in organized searches of Mountain Trail Park near where Sasha’s phone had last pinged. And we drove around town in circles every evening, hoping and praying for a glimpse of Sasha’s braid dangling over her tie-dye backpack.

Knock! Knock!

Mom flinched as if the sound pained her.

Whoever stood on our porch must’ve assumed the doorbell hadn’t worked and decided to switch tactics. Still, neither one of my parents made a move towards the door.

I didn’t blame them.

The scant breeze blowing through the kitchen window wasn’t strong enough to cleanse the cloying scent of our combined fear from the air. We all knew that whoever waited on our front porch could be the bearer of bad news.

Once we let them in, the sliver of hope I clung to—that my sister would be found safe—could be lost forever. Sasha was the sweetest person in the world, my confidante, and my best friend. I couldn’t imagine life without her warm laugh, her bad jokes that were somehow still funny, and her unshakeable optimism.

So, I sat in my chair not wanting to face the truth, but at the same time, needing answers.

Dad stood, leaving a sweaty palm print on the surface of the table. I’ll get it. His slippers swooshed with each step towards the door, towards the possibility of answers we might not want to hear.

Mom pushed her plate away and lowered her head into her hands.

I touched her shoulder. It could be good news, couldn’t it? Or it could be a neighbor, or a friend.

Maybe. She lifted her head and clasped my hand, and her haunted eyes locked on mine.

Dad put his eye to the peephole. It’s one of those detectives.

Mom sighed. Please go to your room while your father and I talk to the police.

I asked, Why can’t I stay?

I’ll come get you as soon as the detective leaves. Your father and I will tell you what’s happening then, okay?

At age fifteen, I hated it when my parents treated me like a child. I wanted to object, but my mother’s usual tough facade was missing, and I didn’t want to make her feel worse than she already did. Instead, I stood and pushed my chair in. Okay, Mom.

The stairs, although carpeted, creaked under my feet as I climbed to the second floor. Although I agreed to comply, I had no intention of going to my room and waiting. Since news was forthcoming, I needed all the answers, not the diluted parent-proof version. As much as the truth might hurt, I couldn’t continue living in limbo, wondering what happened to Sasha.

At the top of the staircase, I leaned against the wall. If someone looked up from the ground floor, they wouldn’t see me, but the conversation from downstairs should carry to my waiting ears.

That is, if I could hear them over the thumping of my heartbeat inside my eardrums.

The metal hinges of the door creaked, setting my teeth on edge.

Dad said, Come inside, Detective.

Thank you, Mr. Hamilton. The steady rhythm of Detective Rebecca Kind’s loafers echoed on the linoleum.

I recognized both the sound of her small, quick steps and her kind, soothing voice. She’d done most of the talking the first time she came to our house with her burly male partner, Detective Todd Quinn.

Detective Kind promised they would do everything they could to find my sister, and now she was here again.

Have you found my daughter? Mom wasn’t one for small talk under normal circumstances.

Detective Kind said, A hiker and his German Shepherd discovered the body of a female this afternoon on a lakeshore at Mountain Trail Park. The coroner hasn’t made an identification yet. I wanted to let you know in person before you hear the story on the evening news.

No, no, no. Not Sasha. This can’t be happening. I pinched my arm, but I didn’t wake from this nightmare. My legs quivered, then my back slid along the wall, and I dropped into a sitting position.

Did you see the body? Is it… Dad’s voice caught, Is it her?

Detective Kind didn’t respond, and silence built—an answer in and of itself.

Please, say something, Detective Kind. Desperation laced Mom’s words, mirroring my own fear.

I’m sorry, but until it’s official, I can’t confirm we found Sasha. We need to wait for the coroner.

Mom wailed, muffling the sound of voices downstairs.

I hugged my knees to my chest, and hot tears spilled onto my cheeks. Detective Kind didn’t confirm or deny seeing the body. She knew the truth.

Sasha’s body was at the morgue. My sister was dead.

Needing to remember her, I shut my eyes and clung to the memory of the last few minutes we’d spent together.

I sat cross-legged on Sasha’s bed, fiddling with a thread sticking out of her worn patchwork quilt. I lingered in her room, wanting her to change her mind and take me with her. Since starting college a year ago, she’d pulled away from me, including me less and less.

It stung.

Since childhood, she and I had been inseparable, even though she was four years older than me. We looked out for each other and shared our deepest secrets. I’d never forget the time she’d covered for me after I’d accidentally thrown a ball through our living room window.

She’d blamed the neighborhood bully, Stan. He’d denied it, but no one had believed him, including his parents. They’d grounded him for the summer, sparing the rest of the neighborhood kids his wrath—poetic justice.

Sasha stood in front of her dresser, leaning forward with her face an inch from the mirror as she swiped a deep coat of black mascara on her lashes. She hated her blond eyelashes, convinced they clashed with her red hair. Stop pouting, Eliza. You aren’t old enough to drink yet.

I met her gaze in the mirror. You were drinking at fifteen.

Yes, but never more than one drink, and I got stuck babysitting my friends while they stumbled around drunk, passing out, and forgetting what they’d done afterwards. I wish I had hung out with better friends back then. I don’t want that for you. I’m proud of you for not wanting to be one of the popular kids. They’re often trouble. Make better friends.

It’s not that I didn’t want to be popular and liked. I don’t fit in at school like you do. You know that.

You need to be less shy. Let the world see who you are. People will love you if given the chance. But stick to the kids that are smart like you are.

Right. Easy for her to say.

I didn’t have Sasha’s enigmatic but kind smile that made you wonder what thoughts floated through her head. Nor did I have her laidback but chic hippie style. People didn’t flock to me the way they did to her. I’d made a few friends, but I’d never connected with anyone the way I did my sister. I idolized her.

I crossed my fingers for luck and asked a burning question. Who are you meeting? Not Kristian, I hope.

She glanced over her shoulder at me and shook her head. No. I’m meeting Jessie and Kimmy. I broke up with Kristian after class this morning. I’ve had enough of his bad, sexist attitude.

I’m glad you finally saw reason. You deserve better. Don’t let him convince you to take him back. I’ve always hated him.

Sasha spritzed her neck and wrists, and the fruity scent of her perfume filled the room. I won’t. I promise.

Good.

She slipped her arms into her jean jacket. See you later, Eliza.

An ominous sense overcame me. I grabbed her hand as she moved past me towards the door. Please, let me come with you.

You’re not old enough to get into the club. Next time, okay? I promise.

All right. Be careful. I love you.

Sasha smiled. I love you, too.

After a night of fitful sleep, I climbed out of bed and padded barefoot on the flattened path of carpet between my room and Sasha’s across the hall. I pushed her door open slowly, the hinges creaking in protest. The quilt lay draped across the empty bed at a crooked angle in the same spot I’d left it in. The emptiness of the room, void of my sister’s vibrant energy, closed in on me.

If only she’d let me go with her that night. I would’ve protected her from whatever fate befell her, or I would’ve died too. Either option would be better than being here instead, sitting alone on the carpet of the upstairs hallway with a hole in my heart too deep to fill.

The staircase creaked.

I lifted my head, eyes blurry from the tears that refused to stop falling.

Detective Kind knelt in front of me and placed a hand on my shoulder. I figured you’d be listening to us from here and not in your room. I know this is hard, but are you sure you’ve told us everything you know? Did she act differently in the month before she went missing? You knew her better than anyone.

I nodded and swallowed my tears past the lump in my throat. She seemed more like herself that night. Carefree and happy. When she told me she’d broken up with Kristian Chambers that morning, it all made sense. He sucked the life out of her.

Are you sure she didn’t plan to meet him that night?

No, Sasha promised me she wouldn’t take him back. And she never broke her promises or lied to me. If she said she was hanging out with Jessie and Kimmy, then that’s what she planned to do. My body vibrated. A flood of rage chased away my despair. If she was with him, it’s because he tracked her down. And I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s a jealous and controlling narcissistic asshole. If it’s my sister’s body you found, which I believe it is, then focus your attention on him.

Detective Kind nodded with eyes full of pity. Thank you, Eliza. If you think of anything else, call me anytime, night or day.

Promise me you’ll talk to him. He’s never once helped look for Sasha. Don’t you think that’s suspicious?

She pursed her lips and nodded. I promise. She patted my knee, then descended the staircase and left a few minutes later.

Again, Detective Kind didn’t deny they’d found my sister, and her asking me questions only confirmed my suspicions. She struck me as a competent detective who would do all she could to figure out what happened to my sister that night. But if she and her partner, Detective Quinn, didn’t get justice for my sister, I would take matters into my own hands.

Chapter 2

Eliza

On the day of Sasha’s funeral, the sun shone in a cloudless sky, a sharp contrast to the never-ending rainstorm of grief inside me. The packed church service full of solemn faces and tears brought on an intense wave of pain. I couldn’t cope and retreated inside myself, letting numbness take over. In the car on the way to the graveyard, Mom wiped away the black lines of tear-streaked eye makeup covering my face.

Dad parked along the curb, and we followed the other mourners to Sasha’s gravesite. The winds were calm, and the heady scent of the standing spray flower arrangement flooded my nose. I stood next to Dad, letting him clutch my hand for comfort as the casket lowered into a dark hole in the ground from which my sister would never emerge.

The priest recited the Burial Rite in an eloquent, emotional voice, but I couldn’t process his words. Physically, I was present, but my mind had checked out. Later, after this brief mental reprieve, the pain would return as it always did.

A few weeks had passed since my sister’s body was found. True to her word, Detective Kind had returned to the house to confirm the body belonged to Sasha. She promised to investigate, but so far, we’d learned nothing new from the police.

Off in the distance behind us, a heated conversation played out. Dad glanced over his shoulder with venom in his eyes, and his grip on my hand tightened. I followed his gaze, and the hollowness I’d retreated to filled with a rage so hot I thought it would burn me alive.

Kristian stood behind the crowd of mourners wearing a black, expensively tailored suit. Detectives Kind and Quinn surrounded him. Detective Quinn, as if sensing our anger, took Kristian by the elbow and dragged him to the parking lot.

How dare he! Kristian knew my parents didn’t like him or want him around. Even though the detectives hadn’t yet confirmed it, I knew Kristian had something to do with my sister’s death.

Kimmy and Jessie stood a few feet away from us, and they also shot dirty looks Kristian’s way. I spent the rest of the service stewing in my anger; which had the effect of pushing aside my grief.

Later that night, I stared at the yellow stain on the ceiling above my bed from a roof leak a year ago. The mental strain of the grief and the anger had subsided somewhat, but restlessness had a hold of me. If I ever wanted to be able to sleep again, I needed fresh air to clear my mind.

I climbed out of bed, tiptoed along the hall to my parents’ room, and placed my ear to the door. The television inside their room was on. I could make out the voice of a late-night show host between my father’s snores. My mother was a deep sleeper, and after the whole bottle of wine she’d had with dinner, I suspected she’d be out for the night.

After pulling on sweatpants and a hoodie, I took my time descending the staircase. My foot hit the loose floorboard on the third step, and it creaked. I gritted my teeth and stood still, waiting to be discovered. A few minutes passed. No sounds came from the bedrooms upstairs, so I continued my descent.

I tugged on my sneakers and slipped outside, taking care to close the front door softly. I didn’t have a specific destination in mind, but I found myself tracing the path we’d driven earlier in the day to the graveyard.

A chilly, early autumn wind numbed my cheeks and blew through the fabric of my clothes. I should’ve grabbed a coat on the way out. I pulled my hands inside my sleeves and stuck them inside the kangaroo pocket of my hoodie.

I followed the path I took this morning past rows of headstones. Some had fresh flowers next to them, others had teddy bears, and then there were the lonely graves. Tears burned my eyes at the sight of the empty tombstones. I’d make sure Sasha’s grave wasn’t lonely.

I paused a few plots away from my destination. Someone stood in front of the fresh earth pile of my sister’s grave with their back to me. They wore a black coat with their hood covering their head. This person was either a short man or a tall woman. Thankfully, it couldn’t be Kristian, who stood much taller.

Should I wait for this person to leave? Or did I want company?

The figure turned, making the decision for me. My sister’s friend Jessie walked towards me. Hi, Eliza.

Hey.

Do you want me to leave?

I hesitated for a split second, but my desire to question Jessie overruled my need for solitude. No, please stay. I needed to come back and see Sasha without all those people around. You know?

Jessie nodded. Yeah, I understand. I wanted to say goodbye in private.

I can’t believe Kristian had the nerve to come earlier. He could have timed it when no one else was here. Instead, he upset everyone. What an ass.

I never liked him either.

Can I ask you about the night Sasha… My voice caught. Died.

Of course. She wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Do you want to go to a coffee shop? You look cold. Or we could talk in my car. I’ll give you a lift home after.

I studied the flower spray next to the mound of dirt covering my sister. I swallowed around a lump in my throat. Hot chocolate would be nice. Could I have a minute here, then I’ll meet you in the parking lot?

Of course. Take as long as you need.

I knelt beside the flower spray, inhaling the sweet scent of the fresh blooms, and placed a palm on the mound of soil covering my sister. I miss you so much. Tears spilled down my cheeks. How could you leave me like this? How am I supposed to face life without you? I can’t help but wonder if I’d be happier where you are, but I can’t do that to Mom and Dad.

A whisper carried on the breeze. Eliza.

Sasha? I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds around me.

The whispering voice spoke closer to my ear this time. I’m here. I’ll always be here.

God, I hope so. I hope you’re real. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and stood. I’ll be back soon.

I strode to the parking lot nearby and climbed into the passenger seat of Jessie’s blue compact sedan. Thank you for the ride. I forgot a coat. I’m absent-minded lately. The heat from the vents caressed my face, and I held my hands in front of the vents to warm them.

It’s understandable with what you’re going through.

Jessie drove a few blocks to a Starbucks. The shop was empty inside, probably because it was late for a Wednesday night, and they would only be open for another half an hour. I ordered a white hot chocolate and Jessie ordered a latte. We took our drinks to a table in the corner furthest away from the staff working the counter.

Jessie kept her voice low. Kristian showed up at the club that night. He pestered your sister for a second chance. Sasha told him to get lost, but he wouldn’t listen. The bouncer had to throw him out.

I’m not surprised. I hated Kristian from the day I met him. Before Sasha left, she told me that she’d broken up with him that morning.

Yes, we were all happy she dumped him. Anyway, after a few rounds of drinks, Kimmy and I were a little drunk. Your sister only had one drink. She took care of us like she always did. She helped us into an Uber since Kimmy lives a few doors down from me. Sasha was supposed to get another Uber.

You didn’t see her after that?

No. If her ride had shown up at the same time, she’d probably still be alive. Tears filled Jessie’s eyes. I feel like it’s our fault. If Kimmy and I had taken care of Sasha for a change, this wouldn’t have happened.

Did you tell the police all this?

Yes, the detectives who were at the funeral came to my house. They showed me grainy video footage from the parking lot at the club of Sasha getting into a car with tinted windows. You could see the driver’s face for a few seconds when Sasha opened the car door. It looked like Kristian, but the footage isn’t good, and it didn’t catch the license plate.

I bet they can do something to make the video clearer. Did you tell them it was Kristian?

Yes, and they promised they’d talk to him again. The woman detective is intense. I’m glad she’s investigating.

Me too. Thank you for talking to me. I feel like I can’t rest until I know what happened to Sasha. I need answers.

Jessie rested her hand on mine. I get it. It’s hard. But you know Sasha would want you to keep living and enjoy your life, right?

I know. She had the biggest heart. I swallowed away the tears threatening to overtake me. I just don’t know how to live without her. She was my best friend.

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