Chapter 3
I locked the hospital room door.
My hands shook so badly that I almost dropped the phone.
“Daniel,” I whispered, “someone put a recording device on Caitlyn.”
There was a long silence.
“Do not touch it,” he said.
“It’s in an evidence bag.”
“Good. Give it to the police.”
“What was Melissa trying to find?”
“Your father created three copies of every important document. I have one set. He kept another. The third was placed somewhere only Caitlyn would recognize.”
“She was six when he died.”
“That was the point. He trusted her memory more than he trusted the adults around him.”
I sat beside the bed.
Caitlyn watched me with frightened eyes.
“Why didn’t you contact me after Dad died?”
“I tried.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I sent certified letters. They were signed for at your house.”
I closed my eyes.
Melissa had moved in two days after the funeral.
She said I shouldn’t be alone.
She collected the mail because I could barely get out of bed.
Dad’s death had destroyed me.
My husband, Aaron, had died in a construction accident two years earlier.
Losing Dad so soon afterward left me empty.
Melissa stepped into that emptiness.
She cooked.
She paid bills.
She took Caitlyn to school.
I had mistaken control for kindness.
“Who signed for the letters?” I asked.
“Melissa Monroe.”
The answer hurt even though I expected it.
Daniel told me he would come to the hospital.
Forty minutes later, a silver-haired man in a dark blue suit entered with a leather briefcase.
He looked at Caitlyn and stopped.
“You have your grandfather’s eyes.”
Caitlyn pulled the blanket to her chin.
“Did you know Grandpa?”
“For thirty years.”
“Did he trust you?”
Daniel looked ashamed.
“He did. I’m not sure I deserved it.”
He placed the briefcase on the table.
Inside were bank records, property maps, and copies of checks.
The checks carried Dad’s signature.
Daniel pointed to them.
“These were deposited into an account controlled by Melissa.”
I examined the handwriting.
“That looks like Dad’s signature.”
“It’s a high-quality copy. But these dates matter.”
One check was dated three days after Dad died.
Another had been written a week later.
My stomach twisted.
“How did nobody notice?”
“Melissa had access to his accounts. She told the bank she was acting under a power of attorney.”
“Was she?”
“No. The document she used was fraudulent.”
Caitlyn sat up.
“Is Aunt Melissa going to jail?”
I touched her hair.
“That depends on what the police find.”
Daniel glanced at the recording device.
“They’ll find more than fraud if they examine that.”
A knock came at the door.
I stiffened.
“Who is it?”
“Detective Brooks.”
I opened the door only after seeing his badge through the glass.
He entered with a uniformed officer.
Detective Brooks was in his forties, with patient eyes and a quiet voice.
He spoke to Caitlyn first.
He explained that she was not in trouble.
Then he asked if she knew why Melissa had attached the device to her sweater.
Caitlyn nodded.
“She asked me about Grandpa’s treasure game.”
I looked at her.
“What treasure game?”
“Grandpa used to hide yellow stars around the house.”
I remembered cutting dozens of paper stars for Dad during his final summer.
I thought they were decorations for Caitlyn.
“He said if I found all seven, there would be a surprise,” she continued.
“How many did you find?”
“Six.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Where is the seventh?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did the stars say?” I asked.
“They had numbers and words.”
“Do you remember them?”
Caitlyn nodded.
“Grandpa made me memorize them. He said paper gets lost, but memories stay safe.”
She closed her eyes.
“First star: where the music sleeps.”
Dad’s piano.
“Second star: beneath the family that never smiles.”
The portrait in the dining room.
“Third star: where winter waits in summer.”
The old freezer in the basement.
She opened her eyes.
“Do I have to say all of them now?”
“No,” I said. “You’ve been through enough.”
Detective Brooks agreed.
But Daniel looked worried.
“If Melissa knows about the stars, she may have searched those locations.”
“She did,” Caitlyn said.
Everyone turned toward her.
“She found me looking under the piano last week. She asked what I was doing.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No. Grandpa said it was our secret.”
“Then how did she learn about the game?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone rang.
It was my mother.
I almost ignored it.
She rarely called unless Melissa wanted something.
I answered.
“Sarah, what have you done?”
No hello.
No question about Caitlyn.
“What did Melissa tell you?”
“She called me from the police station. You had her arrested over a fireplace accident.”
“She locked Caitlyn in a room while burning Dad’s documents.”
“Melissa said Caitlyn stole those papers and started the fire.”
I looked at my daughter.
She heard every word.
“Mom, Caitlyn is seven.”
“And Melissa is your sister.”
“My daughter could have died.”
“You always assume the worst about Melissa.”
A memory flashed through my mind.
I was twelve years old.
Melissa broke Mom’s pearl necklace and hid the pieces in my desk.
Mom grounded me for a month.
Dad knew the truth, but he stayed silent to keep the peace.
Our family had spent years protecting Melissa from consequences.
Now my daughter had paid the price.
“Why didn’t you ask if Caitlyn was okay?” I said.
Mom went silent.
“That’s unfair.”
“No. It’s the first fair question anyone has asked you.”
“Melissa took care of you after Thomas died.”
“She stole my mail.”
“What?”
“She signed for letters from Dad’s attorney. She hid them from me.”
“That man is lying.”
Daniel heard her.
He took a document from his briefcase and placed it in front of me.
It was a copy of a certified delivery receipt.
Melissa’s signature stretched across the bottom.
I took a photograph and sent it to Mom.
“Look at your messages.”
She did.
Her breathing changed.
“Anyone could have written that.”
I almost laughed.
Even with proof in front of her, she was already building an excuse.
“Did you know about the land?” I asked.
“What land?”
“The property outside the city. The one worth eight million dollars.”
Her silence answered me.
“You knew.”
“Your father talked about selling it.”
“He put it in a trust for Caitlyn.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Melissa was supposed to inherit that property.”
“Who told you that?”
“Thomas did. Years ago.”
“Did he put it in writing?”
“He didn’t need to. I was his wife.”
“You were divorced for eleven years.”
“That doesn’t erase thirty years of marriage.”
“No. But it does mean you weren’t entitled to control his estate.”
Her voice became cold.
“Be careful, Sarah. Money changes people.”
“Melissa locked my child in a burning room for money.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know the key was on her wrist.”
Mom began crying.
She always cried when facts stopped working in her favor.
“Melissa has made mistakes,” she said. “But she loves that little girl.”
“Love doesn’t lock a door.”
“She was scared.”
“So was Caitlyn.”
“You cannot destroy your sister’s life over one bad decision.”
I looked at the evidence bag containing the device.
“This wasn’t one decision.”
I ended the call.
Caitlyn reached for my hand.
“Grandma is mad at me.”
“No, sweetheart.”
“Yes, she is.”
“She’s wrong. That is not the same thing.”
Detective Brooks took the recording device and the scorched document into evidence.
Then he told me Melissa had been released pending further investigation.
My heart jumped.
“You released her?”
“The current evidence supports reckless endangerment and unlawful restraint, but the prosecutor wants the fire analysis before filing charges.”
“She knows where we are.”
“She has been ordered not to contact you or Caitlyn.”
“Do you really think that will stop her?”
He did not answer.
Daniel arranged for us to stay in a hotel under another name.
Before we left the hospital, he received a call from his office.
His expression changed.
“What happened?” I asked.
He put the call on speaker.
His assistant sounded breathless.
“Someone broke into the records room.”
Daniel stood.
“What did they take?”
“The Monroe files.”
“All of them?”
“The locked cabinet is empty.”
My skin went cold.
“Was anyone hurt?” Daniel asked.
“No. But the security camera caught a woman leaving through the back stairwell.”
“Was it Melissa?”
“I don’t think so.”
The assistant sent us a still image.
A woman in a hooded coat stood beside the emergency exit.
Her face was turned toward the camera.
I recognized her immediately.
It was my mother.
Caitlyn leaned against me.
“Why is Grandma helping Aunt Melissa?”
I had no answer.
Then another photograph arrived.
This one showed Mom getting into a black sedan.
Daniel enlarged the license plate.
His face lost all color.
“That car belonged to your father.”
I shook my head.
“Dad’s car was destroyed after his heart attack.”
“No,” Daniel said quietly. “That is what Melissa told you.”
Detective Brooks took my phone.
He studied the photograph.
“Who owns the car now?”
Daniel opened a property database on his laptop.
After a moment, he turned the screen toward us.
The sedan had been transferred two days before Dad’s death.
The registered owner was Melissa Monroe.
But the insurance policy listed another driver.
Evelyn Monroe.
My mother.
I sat down slowly.
They had lied about the car.
They had lied about the attorney.
They had lied about the property.
And if Daniel was right, they might have lied about Dad’s death.
Caitlyn tugged at my sleeve.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“I remember the seventh star.”
Every adult in the room stopped moving.
She whispered the final clue.
“Where the dead man still watches.”
Daniel stared at me.
I knew exactly what it meant.
May you like
Dad’s portrait hung above the fireplace.
And behind that portrait was a wall safe no one had opened in twenty years.
