Chapter 14
Emily had written the letter shortly before her final surgery.
I knew the date.
I remembered that week.
I remembered holding her hand beside the hospital bed.
I remembered her telling me not to worry about paperwork.
Apparently, she had worried enough for both of us.
I read slowly.
Daniel,
If you are reading this, someone has probably started asking questions about Sophie's inheritance.
My parents left more than people realize. I don't want money turning Sophie into a target.
My chest tightened.
The letter continued.
Samuel knows most of it, but not everything.
There is a second account created by my father years ago.
It is not large enough to change Sophie's life, but it is protected differently.
I never told you because I wanted you to love our life without thinking about accounts, trusts, and property.
I laughed through tears.
“That sounds like her.”
Detective Cole waited nearby.
Sophie sat on my bed hugging her rabbit.
I continued.
The important part is the lake house.
Do not sell it while Sophie is young.
My father hid something there for her.
I don't know exactly what.
He made me promise not to open it.
When Sophie is old enough, take her there.
If anyone pressures you to sell before then, slow down and ask why.
I looked up.
Rachel had been desperate to sell the lake house.
Not just the main house.
Both.
Samuel came over within an hour.
I handed him the letter.
He read it twice.
“Did Emily ever mention this second account?”
“No.”
“Her father?”
“No.”
“What could be hidden at the lake house?”
“I have no idea.”
Detective Cole immediately warned us.
“If Rachel or Michael knew about this letter, the lake house may be connected to the fraud investigation.”
“How would they know?”
Samuel pointed to Emily’s cedar box.
“If other letters referenced it.”
I suddenly remembered something.
“The box had letters missing?”
Cole nodded.
“We couldn't know because there was no inventory.”
I felt cold.
“What if Rachel found another letter?”
“Possible.”
Samuel looked at me.
“We need to check the property.”
The lake house sat two hours away.
I hadn't visited in almost two years.
Emily loved it.
After she died, I couldn't stand being there.
Rachel hated it from the first time she saw it.
“Old.”
“Depressing.”
“Worth more sold than used.”
Now I wondered how much of that had been manipulation.
Police went first.
No sign of forced entry.
But a neighbor remembered seeing a black sedan there several times.
Michael owned a black sedan.
I drove up with Samuel the next morning after receiving permission from investigators.
Sophie stayed with Laura.
The house smelled like pine and dust.
Emily’s old coffee mug still sat on a high shelf.
I almost lost control.
Samuel touched my shoulder.
“Focus.”
We searched only areas detectives had cleared.
Emily’s father had been a carpenter.
He loved hidden compartments.
False bottoms.
Secret panels.
As a kid, Emily said he used to hide birthday gifts and make her solve clues.
We checked furniture.
Cabinets.
Floorboards.
Nothing.
Then Samuel noticed the fireplace mantel.
One section had recently been scratched.
We called Detective Cole.
Again.
She drove up with an evidence technician.
Behind the mantel was a narrow steel compartment.
It had already been opened.
Empty.
My heart sank.
“Michael got here first.”
“Maybe,” Cole said.
“But he didn't take everything.”
Inside the compartment, stuck beneath the metal lip, was a torn piece of paper.
Only part of a sentence remained.
...original shares issued to Eleanor...
Samuel’s expression changed.
“What?”
He took a photograph.
“Emily’s grandmother was Eleanor Shaw.”
“So?”
“Her family owned part of Shaw Medical.”
I frowned.
The name was familiar.
Then it hit me.
Shaw Medical wasn't a small business.
It was a national medical equipment company.
Publicly traded.
“Emily’s family owned that?”
“Decades ago.”
“Does Sophie?”
Samuel stared at the torn paper.
“I don't know.”
My stomach tightened.
“If Rachel found shares…”
“They could be worth something.”
“How much?”
“I won't guess.”
That meant a lot.
We searched the cabin for more.
Nothing.
Then the neighbor, Mr. Dawson, walked over.
He was seventy and remembered Emily as a teenager.
“I’m sorry about all this,” he said.
“Did you see the man who came here?”
“Not clearly.”
“What did he carry out?”
Mr. Dawson thought.
“A metal case.”
My pulse jumped.
“What size?”
He gestured about two feet wide.
“When?”
“Maybe January.”
The same period Michael took Emily’s records from my garage.
“Was Rachel with him?”
“Once.”
I stared.
“You saw Rachel here?”
“I think so.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I thought you sent them.”
Of course he did.
Everyone thought I sent them.
Rachel had spent a year making sure my name opened every door.
Then Mr. Dawson added, “There was a little girl too.”
My blood froze.
“Sophie?”
“I couldn't see.”
Sophie had described the green-shutter house.
Never the lake house.
I called Laura.
“Put Sophie on.”
“Daniel, remember what they said about questioning—”
“I’m not going to question her.”
Sophie came on.
“Daddy?”
“Hey, baby. I'm at the lake house.”
Silence.
Then a whisper.
“Are you in Mommy’s room?”
My heart stopped.
“You remember the lake house?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
I looked at Cole.
She signaled for me not to continue.
Then Sophie spoke without being asked.
“Rachel said I wasn't supposed to tell you we went there.”
I closed my eyes.
“Okay.”
“She made me sit in the car.”
“Okay.”
“Uncle Mike got a silver box.”
Samuel and Cole exchanged a look.
I fought to keep my voice calm.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Did they find the picture?”
“What picture?”
Cole shook her head sharply.
I didn't ask more.
Sophie continued anyway.
“The picture Mommy drew behind the stairs.”
I stared toward the staircase.
After Sophie hung up, we checked.
Behind the bottom stair was a childlike drawing taped to the wood.
Emily had probably made it decades ago.
A girl.
A lake.
A crooked sun.
On the back, in adult handwriting, were six numbers and a name.
Eleanor.
Samuel photographed it.
His face had gone pale.
“What is that?”
May you like
He looked at me.
“A safe-deposit box number.”
