Chapter 6
The lock clicked open.
Nobody touched the lid.
For some reason, that scared me more than if it had been full of blood.
It looked ordinary.
Black plastic.
Scratches along one corner.
A faded label.
Dad had touched this.
Ray had hidden it.
Thomas had apparently spent years looking for it.
And now it was sitting between us.
I entered my birthday again and opened the case.
Inside were four things.
A digital recorder.
A flash drive.
A thick envelope.
And a photograph.
I picked up the photograph first.
Dad stood beside Thomas.
I knew instantly which man was Thomas.
Same jaw.
Same nose.
But harder eyes.
Ray was in the picture too.
So was another man I didn’t recognize.
They were standing in front of a construction site.
The date printed on the back was six months before Dad died.
I looked at Ray.
“You said one project.”
“It was one project.”
“But you were clearly around him.”
“Yes.”
“You lied.”
Ray didn’t argue.
Mom sat down.
“You knew Thomas too?”
“Barely.”
Thomas’s phone call replayed in my mind.
Still lying, Ray?
I reached for the recorder.
Ray said, “Maybe we should wait for police.”
“No.”
“Camille.”
“No more waiting.”
I pressed play.
Static filled the storage unit.
Then Dad’s voice.
My father.
Alive.
I hadn’t heard his voice in years.
Not clearly.
Not outside of old home videos.
My hand flew to my mouth.
Mom began crying immediately.
Dad sounded tense.
“If you’re hearing this, then either I got scared again, or Thomas made good on his threats.”
A pause.
“I hope it’s the first one.”
I closed my eyes.
Dad continued.
“I have made mistakes. Denise knows the worst of them.”
Mom looked down.
“Rebecca does too.”
My chest tightened.
“But this recording is not about my marriage. It is about the Riverside Project and the money Thomas moved through three subcontractors.”
Ray went rigid.
Dad named companies.
Dates.
Amounts.
One company belonged to Thomas.
One was fake.
The third made Ray whisper, “No.”
Mom looked at him.
“What?”
Ray shook his head.
“That company belonged to my old boss.”
Dad’s voice continued.
“I believe Thomas forged invoices and diverted over eight hundred thousand dollars.”
Sarah gasped.
“He used my signature on two approvals. He used Rebecca’s name to open Blue Star Holdings without her knowledge. When I discovered it, he threatened to expose my affair and destroy my family.”
I felt sick.
The affair was real.
The fraud was real.
One terrible thing had concealed another.
Dad said he had gathered documents.
Bank statements.
Emails.
Photos.
He said he had contacted an investigator.
Then he mentioned Ray.
“Raymond Hayes found the duplicated invoices and brought them to me.”
Every head turned.
Ray’s eyes closed.
Dad kept talking.
“He does not know the full situation. Keep him out of it if possible.”
Mom stared at Ray.
“You found the fraud?”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel trusted you?”
“He trusted me with the invoices.”
“Why did you hide that from me?”
Ray looked miserable.
“Because after he died, Thomas came to me.”
My blood went cold.
Dad’s recording continued.
“If Thomas learns what Ray found, he may threaten him too.”
Ray sat heavily.
Dad knew.
Even before the accident.
The recording ended after another twelve minutes.
There was no confession about Dad’s death.
No dramatic proof Thomas caused the crash.
But there was enough fraud evidence to explain why Thomas might have wanted Dad silent.
I grabbed the envelope.
Inside was a letter to Mom.
A letter to me.
And a sealed packet addressed to a detective whose name I didn’t recognize.
The letter to me was short.
I couldn’t read it.
Not yet.
Mom opened hers.
She cried silently.
I didn’t ask what it said.
Then Ray whispered, “The flash drive is probably the evidence.”
Sarah said, “We need police.”
This time nobody disagreed.
A detective arrived with two officers less than an hour later.
His name was Marcus Ellison.
When Mom mentioned the old accident, his expression changed.
“Daniel Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“I remember the case.”
“You worked it?”
“No. My father did.”
We all stared at him.
Detective Ellison looked at the evidence case.
“My father was Sergeant Paul Ellison.”
Mom stood.
“Daniel was supposed to meet a Sergeant Ellison.”
“Yes.”
For the first time that night, something felt like luck.
Detective Ellison listened carefully.
He took photographs.
Logged the flash drive.
Sealed the recorder as evidence.
Then he asked Ray to speak privately.
Ray agreed.
I watched them walk outside.
Mom looked exhausted.
Lily had fallen asleep against Sarah.
I sat beside her.
The child who had arrived with a backpack was now asleep in my aunt’s arms while police investigated secrets older than she was.
Mom touched my shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at her.
“For what part?”
She winced.
“That’s fair.”
I didn’t feel good about hurting her.
But I was too tired to soften it.
“You should have told me about Lily.”
“Yes.”
“You should have told me about Dad.”
“Yes.”
“You should never have painted the mural without asking.”
Her eyes filled.
“I know.”
I looked at the canvas leaning against the wall.
“Did you know this existed?”
“No.”
Neither of us spoke.
Then she said, “I didn’t paint over the mural because I wanted to erase you.”
“It felt like you did.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you give Lily the guest room?”
Mom looked away.
“What?”
“The guest room.”
She rubbed her hands together.
“Ray’s mother is moving in temporarily.”
I stared at her.
I almost laughed.
“Seriously?”
“She’s having hip surgery.”
“So my room was the easiest thing to sacrifice.”
“No.”
“That is exactly what happened.”
“Camille—”
“You decided I’m at college, so I don’t count as living there anymore.”
“That isn’t what I thought.”
“Then what did you think?”
She struggled for an answer.
Finally she said, “I thought you were building a life somewhere else.”
“And that means I don’t need a place in yours?”
Her face crumpled.
“No.”
But that was exactly how it had felt.
A bedroom was just a room.
I knew that.
I was twenty.
I was technically an adult.
But when I came home, I expected one place in the world to still know me.
Instead, it had been painted white.
Lily stirred against Sarah.
I looked at her.
Then at Mom.
“I’m not asking you to throw Lily out.”
“I know.”
“I’m not blaming her.”
“I know.”
“But you made a huge decision and treated me like an inconvenience you could manage around.”
Mom cried harder.
“I was afraid you’d say no.”
The truth stunned me.
“You were afraid I’d say no, so you made sure I couldn’t.”
She nodded.
At least she admitted it.
Before I could answer, Detective Ellison and Ray came back.
Ray’s face was pale.
The detective looked at Mom.
“We have a problem.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“The evidence on the flash drive appears to have been accessed recently.”
“How recently?”
“Less than two months ago.”
Rebecca.
I thought immediately.
“Could Rebecca have opened it?”
“Yes.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Ellison’s expression hardened.
“Some files were deleted.”
Ray frowned.
“Can you recover them?”
“Possibly.”
“Who deleted them?”
“We don’t know yet.”
He looked at Lily sleeping nearby.
“But there’s something else.”
He had checked the storage facility access logs.
Someone had entered Unit 214 eight days before Rebecca’s accident.
Using the secondary account code.
Thomas’s code.
Mom went white.
“Thomas was here?”
“Yes.”
“And Rebecca?”
“She entered the same day.”
My heart pounded.
“At the same time?”
Ellison nodded.
“They were inside this facility for forty-seven minutes together.”
Sarah whispered, “That must be when they fought.”
Ellison looked grim.
“Possibly.”
“Then arrest him.”
“I need more than an argument.”
“He threatened her!”
“I understand.”
“He called us tonight!”
“That helps.”
“But?”
“But Thomas Bennett is not currently where we expected him to be.”
“What does that mean?”
“He disappeared from his registered address three weeks ago.”
Mom gripped the table.
“Before Rebecca died?”
“Yes.”
The detective looked at me.
“Miss Bennett, you answered his call tonight.”
“Yes.”
“He knew you were here.”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone outside this family know you were coming?”
I thought about it.
College friends.
Aunt Sarah.
Mom.
Ray.
Then I remembered something.
The message from Sarah had arrived moments after I found the crib.
Camille, call me before your mother tells you anything about the baby.
I turned toward Sarah.
“How did you know I was home?”
She blinked.
“What?”
“You texted me almost immediately.”
“Your mother told me.”
Mom shook her head.
“No, I didn’t.”
Silence.
Sarah’s face changed.
“I thought you did.”
“Who told you?” I asked.
She pulled out her phone.
“I got a message.”
“From who?”
She opened it.
Unknown number.
She handed me the screen.
The text had come forty minutes before I reached the house.
Camille is going home today. Denise still hasn’t told her. Maybe you should.
Below it was a photograph.
My car.
On the interstate.
Taken from behind.
I felt every hair on my arms rise.
Detective Ellison took the phone.
“Thomas is watching the family.”
Mom grabbed me.
For once, I didn’t pull away.
Then a second message arrived on Sarah’s phone.
Everyone stared.
It contained one sentence.
You found the wrong box.
And underneath it, another photo.
Taken less than five minutes earlier.
May you like
Us.
Standing inside the open storage unit.
