Chapter 4
Aunt Sarah arrived twenty minutes later.
She walked into the house carrying two grocery bags, saw all of us gathered around the dining table, and stopped.
“What happened?”
I held up the brass key.
Her face answered before her mouth did.
“You know what this is.”
Sarah put the groceries down.
“Where did you get that?”
“Lily.”
She looked at Lily.
Then at Mom.
“I told Rebecca to leave that alone.”
Mom stood so quickly her chair scraped across the floor.
“You knew she went there?”
“Yes.”
“You told me you hadn’t spoken to her in months.”
“I lied.”
Mom stared at her sister.
The room exploded.
“You lied to me?”
Sarah slammed her purse on the table.
“Yes, Denise. I lied to you because every time Rebecca’s name came up, you shut down.”
“She slept with my husband!”
“And then she spent six years raising his child alone!”
“I didn’t ask her to!”
“No, you just pretended Lily didn’t exist!”
Lily flinched.
I immediately moved beside her.
“Stop.”
Both women froze.
I looked at them.
“Not in front of her.”
Mom’s face collapsed with guilt.
Sarah covered her mouth.
Lily stared at her shoes.
I touched her shoulder.
“You want to watch TV?”
She nodded.
Ray took her into the living room.
When they were gone, I turned back to Mom and Sarah.
“I’m done with half-truths.”
Nobody spoke.
“What is in that storage unit?”
Sarah pulled out a chair.
“Your father rented it.”
“Why?”
“He started storing work files there about a year before he died.”
“What kind of work files?”
“Projects. Contracts. Personal papers. I don’t know everything.”
Mom folded her arms.
“I found out after the funeral.”
“How?”
“There was a charge on one of our credit cards.”
“Then why didn’t you empty it?”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
“The lease wasn’t only in his name.”
I stared at her.
“Whose name was on it?”
Mom looked at Sarah.
Sarah looked at me.
“Rebecca’s.”
My stomach tightened.
“So Dad and Rebecca had a secret storage unit together?”
“It looked that way,” Mom said.
I laughed bitterly.
“Wonderful.”
“But there’s more,” Sarah said.
Of course there was.
There was always more.
“Rebecca swore your father had never given her access while he was alive.”
I frowned.
“Then why was her name on it?”
“She didn’t know.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
Sarah leaned forward.
“After your father died, Rebecca received paperwork saying she was the secondary leaseholder.”
“Who added her?”
“No one could tell us.”
Mom shook her head.
“I thought she was lying.”
“And now?”
Mom looked toward the living room where Lily sat.
“Now I don’t know.”
I turned the key in my palm.
“Who pays the bill?”
Sarah exhaled.
“That’s what Rebecca wanted to find out.”
“She went there before she died?”
“Twice.”
“What did she find?”
“She wouldn’t tell me over the phone.”
“Why?”
“She said she wanted proof first.”
A terrible feeling came over me.
“What proof?”
Sarah’s eyes dropped.
“She said something about your father’s death didn’t match what we were told.”
Everything became very still.
My father had died in a car accident on a rainy road outside the city.
A truck crossed the center line.
That was what I had always known.
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Camille, I honestly don’t know. Rebecca called me the week before her accident. She was upset. She said she had found documents your father hid before he died.”
Mom whispered, “What documents?”
“I never saw them.”
“What did she say?”
Sarah rubbed her hands together.
“She said, ‘Denise needs to know Daniel wasn’t running away from his family.’”
Mom turned white.
I frowned.
“Running away?”
Mom closed her eyes.
There was another secret.
Of course there was.
“What now?”
She looked at me.
“The morning your father died, we had a fight.”
My chest tightened.
“About Rebecca?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I told him to leave.”
I stared at her.
“For good?”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“But you said it.”
“Yes.”
Her voice cracked.
“He packed a bag. He took some files. Then he drove away.”
I suddenly remembered that morning.
Dad had kissed my forehead before school.
He had held me longer than usual.
I thought he was just being Dad.
“Were his things in the car?”
“Yes.”
“Did police recover them?”
“His suitcase, yes.”
“The files?”
Mom shook her head.
“No.”
Sarah said, “That’s what Rebecca thought was in the storage unit.”
Ray came back from the living room.
“Lily’s watching cartoons.”
He looked at us.
“What did I miss?”
I held up the key.
“We’re going to Marshall Street.”
Mom immediately said, “No.”
I looked at her.
“You’re welcome to stay here.”
“Camille, this is not a game.”
“I know.”
“Then stop acting like opening some storage unit is going to fix anything.”
“I’m not trying to fix anything.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“Find out why everyone has spent seven years deciding what truths I can handle.”
That silenced her.
Ray grabbed his keys.
“I’ll drive.”
Mom looked at him.
“You are not encouraging this.”
“I’m not encouraging anything. But if she goes, I’d rather she doesn’t go alone.”
Sarah stood.
“I’m coming.”
Mom looked toward Lily.
I said, “You stay with her.”
“I’m her guardian.”
“Then act like it.”
The words came out harsher than I intended.
Mom flinched.
I almost apologized.
Almost.
Instead, I walked to the door.
The storage facility on Marshall Street was twenty-five minutes away.
It sat behind a row of warehouses, surrounded by a chain-link fence.
The manager checked the key tag.
“Unit 214.”
“Yes.”
“You have ID?”
I handed him mine.
He typed something.
Then frowned.
“What?”
“This account has a note.”
“What kind?”
“Restricted access.”
Ray leaned over the counter.
“Restricted by who?”
The manager looked at the screen.
“Account holder.”
“My father is dead,” I said.
He scrolled.
“Daniel Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“There are two authorized names.”
“Rebecca Hale?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
Sarah went still.
“What?”
The manager read the screen again.
“Daniel Bennett and Thomas Bennett.”
I stared at him.
“Who is Thomas Bennett?”
Sarah grabbed the counter.
“Oh my God.”
I turned.
“What?”
Her face was gray.
“Thomas is your father’s brother.”
I blinked.
“My father didn’t have a brother.”
“Yes, he did.”
The words seemed impossible.
“No.”
“Your grandmother cut him off before you were born.”
“Why?”
Sarah swallowed.
“Because Thomas went to prison.”
Ray muttered something under his breath.
I stared at my aunt.
“What did he do?”
“He stole money from your grandfather’s construction company.”
“How much?”
“Almost four hundred thousand dollars.”
My mouth fell open.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
The manager interrupted.
“If Thomas Bennett is the secondary account holder, he may have been paying the rent.”
“Can we open it?”
“Not unless you’re authorized.”
I put the key on the counter.
“I have the key.”
“That doesn’t give legal access.”
Ray asked, “What would?”
“Executor documentation or a court order.”
Sarah said, “Denise was executor.”
I called Mom.
She answered instantly.
“What happened?”
“Dad had a brother.”
Silence.
“You knew.”
“I knew.”
“His name is on the storage unit.”
Another silence.
“Mom.”
“I’m coming.”
She arrived with Lily forty minutes later.
The manager reviewed the death certificate and estate paperwork Mom had kept in a fireproof box.
Because the estate had technically never transferred the unit, and Mom was still listed as executor, he finally allowed us through.
Unit 214 was on the second row.
My hand shook as I pushed the key into the lock.
Lily stood beside Mom.
Sarah stood behind me.
Ray had gone unusually quiet.
I turned the key.
The lock opened.
I pulled the metal door upward.
Dust rose.
Inside were shelves.
Boxes.
Two filing cabinets.
An old desk.
And on the back wall, a large framed canvas covered with a sheet.
I stepped inside.
The air smelled like paper and wood.
I touched the nearest box.
Dad’s handwriting covered the top.
CAMILLE — ART.
My breath caught.
I opened it.
Inside were drawings.
Hundreds of them.
Mine.
Pictures I had made in kindergarten.
School projects.
Birthday cards.
Even the ugly clay fish I thought Mom had thrown away.
Mom covered her mouth.
“He kept these here?”
I lifted another box.
CAMILLE — SCHOOL.
Another.
HOME.
Another.
LEGAL.
Then Lily called from the doorway.
“What’s that?”
She was pointing at the covered canvas.
I walked to it.
Pulled the sheet away.
And stopped breathing.
It was the mural.
Not the one from my bedroom.
An earlier version.
A full-size painted study Dad had apparently made on canvas before we put it on my wall.
The same blue sky.
The same crooked houses.
The same yellow stars.
And at the bottom, written in Dad’s handwriting:
Camille’s World.
Mom began crying.
I couldn’t move.
The mural wasn’t gone.
Not completely.
Then Sarah opened the first filing cabinet.
“Camille.”
Her voice had changed.
I turned.
She held a file.
Across the tab, Dad had written one name.
THOMAS.
Inside were bank records.
Legal documents.
Photographs.
And a sealed envelope marked:
IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME, GIVE THIS TO DENISE.
Mom stared at it.
Her hands began shaking.
She took the envelope.
Opened it.
Read the first page.
Then sat down hard on the dusty chair.
“What does it say?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
“Mom?”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“Your father wasn’t leaving us that morning.”
I felt my pulse in my throat.
“What was he doing?”
May you like
She looked at the papers again.
“He was going to the police.”
