Chapter 5
The police told us to go home.
None of us wanted to.
Mark insisted on driving to Rebecca’s house, but the officer warned that we could contaminate evidence or place ourselves in danger.
“She may have been taken,” Mark said.
“That is exactly why you need to let us work.”
“What if my mother knows where she is?”
“She’s being questioned.”
“She won’t tell you anything.”
“Then we’ll use evidence.”
Mark laughed bitterly.
“My mother has been hiding evidence for thirty years.”
The officer gave us his card and promised to call with updates.
At midnight, Natalie changed out of her wedding dress in the hotel bathroom.
Her husband, Ethan, stood beside her carrying two suitcases and a box of leftover cake.
Their honeymoon flight was scheduled for six in the morning.
Natalie wanted to cancel it.
I refused.
“You’ve waited a year for this trip.”
“You need me.”
“I have Mark.”
She looked across the lobby.
Mark was sitting alone, staring at the old photograph.
“You have a husband whose entire childhood just became a lie.”
“I’ll take care of him.”
“And who will take care of you?”
I hugged her.
“I’ll call every day.”
Natalie kissed Lily goodbye.
Then she made me promise I would not let Diane near her again.
That promise was easy.
By two in the morning, we were home.
Lily fell asleep in the car.
Mark carried her to bed and stood beside her for a long time.
I watched from the doorway.
“She looks so small,” he whispered.
“She is small.”
“I should have protected her.”
“You weren’t in the room.”
“I should have seen what Mom was capable of.”
“You couldn’t have predicted tonight.”
He tucked the blanket around Lily.
“She called me last week.”
“What did she want?”
“She asked whether we had updated our wills.”
A chill ran through me.
“What did you tell her?”
“That everything would go to Lily.”
Mark sat on the edge of the bed.
“She got angry. She said children shouldn’t inherit too young.”
“Did she know about the trust then?”
“She must have.”
I closed Lily’s bedroom door behind us.
In the hallway, Mark leaned against the wall.
“If something happened to me before I claimed the trust, who would inherit it?”
“We need a lawyer to answer that.”
“My mother seemed convinced she could control it.”
“You’re not going to let her.”
“This may not be about what I allow.”
His phone rang.
Both of us jumped.
It was Thomas.
Mark answered on speaker.
“I remembered something,” Thomas said. “Rebecca mailed me a package last month.”
“What was inside?”
“A journal.”
“Where is it?”
“In a safe at my apartment.”
“Why didn’t you bring it tonight?”
“Because she asked me not to read it unless she disappeared.”
Mark grabbed his keys.
“We’re coming.”
Thomas lived twenty minutes away in a small apartment above a hardware store.
When we arrived, he was standing outside.
The front door hung open.
Someone had broken the lock.
“Stay in the car,” Mark told me.
“No.”
“Claire—”
“We stay together.”
We left Lily sleeping in her car seat only because the vehicle was locked and parked directly beneath a bright security light.
Thomas led us upstairs.
His apartment had been torn apart.
Drawers lay on the floor.
Couch cushions had been sliced open.
Books and papers covered the carpet.
The metal safe in the bedroom closet was gone.
Thomas stared at the empty space.
“They knew.”
“Who knew about the journal?” I asked.
“Only Rebecca.”
“And whoever was watching her.”
Mark called the police.
While he spoke, I noticed a framed photograph lying facedown beneath a chair.
The glass was cracked.
I picked it up carefully.
It showed a younger Thomas with his parents.
Behind the broken frame was a yellow sticky note.
Four numbers were written on it.
0417.
“What’s this?” I asked.
Thomas looked at it.
“My wedding anniversary.”
“To Diane?”
“Yes.”
“Could it be the safe code?”
“No. The code was Mark’s birthday.”
Mark ended his call.
“Why would someone leave your anniversary behind?”
Thomas took the note.
“I didn’t.”
“Rebecca might have,” I said.
He looked confused.
“When did she visit this apartment?”
“The day she gave me the journal.”
“Maybe she expected someone to search the safe.”
Thomas stared at the broken frame.
Then he removed the cardboard backing.
A small brass key fell into his hand.
Mark and I exchanged a look.
“What does it open?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
Police arrived minutes later.
They searched the apartment and took photographs.
The building’s security camera had been disabled.
No neighbors admitted seeing anything.
While an officer examined the broken door, Thomas showed us the key.
Tiny letters were stamped along one side.
GCT 417.
“GCT,” I said. “Could that be a place?”
Thomas went still.
“Grand Central Terminal.”
Mark frowned.
“In New York?”
“Rebecca lived in New York before moving to Ashford.”
“Locker number 417?”
“Possibly.”
Mark looked at the time.
“We can be in New York by morning.”
The officer overheard him.
“No one is going anywhere until we know whether that key actually belongs to a locker.”
Thomas gripped it.
“I’m not losing my daughter again.”
The officer sighed.
“I understand, but charging into another state could put you in danger.”
Mark stepped beside his father.
“If Rebecca left that key, she wanted him to use it.”
The officer took a photograph of the key but allowed Thomas to keep it.
We returned home just before dawn.
Lily woke as I carried her inside.
“Is Grandma coming here?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
She touched my cheek.
“Daddy looks sad.”
“He learned something difficult.”
“Can I make him happy?”
“You already do.”
Lily walked into the kitchen in her pajamas.
Mark sat at the table with his face in his hands.
She climbed onto his lap.
“Grandma lied,” she said.
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Are you mad at me because I found the picture?”
His face shattered.
“No, baby.”
He pulled her close.
“I could never be mad at you for telling the truth.”
“She said you would stop loving me.”
Mark froze.
I felt sick.
“When did she say that?” I asked.
“At the wedding.”
“What exactly did she say?”
Lily tried to remember.
“She said if I looked under the table, Daddy would find his other family and leave us.”
Mark closed his eyes.
“I’m not leaving.”
“She said the money would make you different.”
He looked at me over Lily’s head.
Diane had known everything.
She had known Thomas was coming.
She had known about Rebecca.
She had known about the money.
And she had used a four-year-old child’s fear to protect herself.
Mark held Lily tighter.
“My family is right here.”
A car door slammed outside.
I looked through the kitchen window.
Diane stood in our driveway.
She had been released.
Her hair was messy.
Her jacket was torn at the shoulder.
She walked toward our front door.
Mark placed Lily in my arms.
“Take her upstairs.”
Diane knocked once.
Then she used her key.
The lock turned.
But the door didn’t open because I had fastened the security chain.
She pushed harder.
“Mark?”
He approached the door but did not remove the chain.
“How did you get released?”
“Your little waitress admitted she didn’t see me intentionally push Lily.”
“That isn’t what she said.”
“The police decided it was a family misunderstanding.”
“You had stolen medication.”
“I found it.”
“Where is Rebecca?”
Diane’s face appeared through the narrow gap.
“I came to save you.”
“From what?”
“Thomas.”
“He told me about the trust.”
Her eyes widened.
Mark saw it.
“He also told me about Rebecca.”
“Then you know she’s unstable.”
“I know she disappeared.”
“She ran away because she doesn’t want him in her life.”
“Why was her medication in your purse?”
Diane pressed closer to the gap.
“Let me inside.”
“No.”
“I am your mother.”
“Not today.”
Her face changed.
The pleading expression disappeared.
Something cold replaced it.
“If you go looking for Rebecca, Claire and Lily will be in danger.”
I stepped into view.
“Is that a threat?”
Diane looked at me.
“It is a warning.”
“From whom?”
She turned back to Mark.
“Thomas has lied to you. He didn’t return because he loves you. He returned because he needs your signature.”
“For what?”
“To release the trust.”
“And why would that endanger my family?”
“Because the money does not belong to you.”
Mark’s voice hardened.
“The documents say it does.”
“The documents are incomplete.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
Diane glanced toward the street.
A dark SUV was parked across from our house.
I had never seen it before.
Its engine was running.
Diane lowered her voice.
“Your grandfather did not create that trust to help you.”
“Why did he create it?”
“To buy your silence.”
Mark stared at her.
“My silence about what?”
The SUV’s headlights flashed twice.
Diane stepped back.
“I have already said too much.”
She hurried down the driveway.
Mark opened the door and followed her.
The SUV pulled forward.
Diane climbed inside before it had fully stopped.
Through the tinted rear window, I saw the outline of a man.
He turned toward our house.
For a fraction of a second, the morning light struck his face.
Thomas had shown me that face before.
It was in the photograph from the café.
May you like
Rebecca’s adoptive father was supposed to be dead.
But the man sitting beside Diane looked exactly like him.
