Chapter 6
I had never seen the lake house.
That was the first thing I told Detective Hayes.
She did not look convinced.
Neither did Daniel.
I couldn’t blame either of them.
“You own a house you’ve never visited?” Hayes asked.
“My company owns hundreds of properties.”
“Who approves acquisitions?”
“Usually my investment division.”
“Usually?”
I closed my eyes.
“Vanessa served on the family foundation board. She occasionally recommended properties for purchase.”
Hayes stared at me.
“So she could have used your company to buy her childhood lake house.”
“Yes.”
“Without you noticing.”
“Yes.”
Every answer made me sound more negligent.
Because I had been.
My success had given Vanessa an enormous machine to hide inside.
Lawyers.
Accountants.
Corporate entities.
Assistants.
Automatic signatures.
I had built a world where money handled inconvenience.
Vanessa had learned how to use it better than I had.
Hayes sent officers to the address immediately.
The lake house was nearly two hours northeast.
We stayed with Emma until an ambulance arrived.
She needed medical evaluation.
Daniel rode with her.
Before they left, he came to me.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Blaming you for everything.”
“You had a right.”
“No.”
He looked toward the ambulance.
“Vanessa did this.”
“I helped by not seeing it.”
“You were manipulated too.”
“My daughter paid for it.”
“So did mine.”
We stood there in silence.
Then Daniel held out his hand.
“Find out what’s at that lake house.”
I shook it.
“I will.”
I called Lily.
A police officer answered the secure phone first, then handed it over.
“Daddy?”
“I’m here.”
“Did you find Emma?”
“Yes.”
Lily gasped.
“She’s okay?”
“She’s alive. Her daddy is with her.”
“Is she coming home?”
I didn’t know what home meant anymore.
“Soon.”
Lily was quiet.
Then, “Vanessa won’t be there?”
“No.”
Another promise I prayed I could keep.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Emma told me about the lake once.”
I sat straighter.
“What did she say?”
“She said Vanessa had a special place.”
“What kind of special place?”
“A place where bad girls become good.”
A chill went through me.
“Did she say anything else?”
“She said there were pictures in the wall.”
“What pictures?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she ever go there?”
Lily whispered, “I think so.”
I looked at Hayes.
She could hear the conversation.
“What makes you think that?”
“Because when she came back, she didn’t talk for two days.”
My throat tightened.
“When was that?”
“After my birthday.”
Lily’s birthday had been in February.
That meant Emma had been moved repeatedly.
“Do you remember anything else?”
“Vanessa had mud on her shoes.”
“What color?”
“What?”
“The mud. Do you remember?”
“Red.”
Hayes wrote something down.
“Anything else, sweetheart?”
Lily thought.
“She smelled like smoke.”
Hayes looked up sharply.
“What kind of smoke?”
“Like Daddy’s fireplace.”
The lake property records showed an old wood-burning cabin.
That was enough for Hayes.
She ordered a forensic team to prioritize fireplaces, fire pits, and burned materials.
I hated what my mind did with that information.
I refused to say it aloud.
Rachel had disappeared twenty years ago.
There was a lake.
A fireplace.
Vanessa.
No.
We needed facts.
Not nightmares.
An hour later, Hayes and I drove toward the lake.
The road narrowed as we moved farther from Dallas.
Storm clouds covered the sky.
The property sat beyond a private gate hidden by trees.
Police had already entered.
The house was bigger than I expected.
Not a cabin.
A two-story structure built from stone and cedar.
The lake behind it was black beneath the storm.
Marcus arrived in another vehicle, still cuffed.
Hayes had persuaded prosecutors to let him assist temporarily.
He stepped out and stared at the house.
“I haven’t seen this place since I was twenty.”
“Has it changed?” I asked.
“Outside.”
“What about inside?”
“We’ll see.”
Police cleared the structure before we entered.
No Vanessa.
No living victims.
But signs someone had been there recently.
Fresh food.
A running refrigerator.
Children’s clothing.
Two beds in one upstairs room.
One small.
One slightly larger.
Lily and Emma.
Vanessa had prepared this place for them.
On the wall were framed photographs.
At first they looked like ordinary family pictures.
Then I moved closer.
Rachel.
Photographs of her from childhood.
Rachel smiling beside the lake.
Rachel holding a birthday cake.
Rachel standing next to a teenage Vanessa.
Then newer photographs.
Emma.
Lily.
Some taken openly.
Others from a distance.
School pickup.
Playgrounds.
My own backyard.
Marcus whispered, “Oh God.”
Hayes photographed everything.
“What did Lily mean by pictures in the wall?”
Marcus looked toward the fireplace.
“I don’t know.”
We searched.
Behind one framed photograph of Vanessa and Rachel was a small opening.
Not a safe.
A cavity.
Inside were notebooks.
Dozens.
Vanessa’s handwriting covered every page.
The earliest notebook was twenty-two years old.
I opened one.
Hayes stopped me.
“Gloves.”
An evidence technician handed me a pair.
I read.
Rachel lies.
Rachel cries to get attention.
Mom always comforts her.
Nobody comforts me.
Another page.
Rachel thinks she can ruin everything.
She needs to learn.
Then later.
Rachel screamed for two hours today.
I did not open the door.
She will understand eventually.
Marcus turned away.
I kept reading.
There was an entry dated three days before Rachel disappeared.
Dad says they might send me away.
Rachel told them.
She betrayed me.
I’ll fix it.
My stomach tightened.
The next entry was from the night Rachel disappeared.
Short.
Only one sentence.
She finally stopped crying.
Marcus made a broken sound.
“No.”
Hayes immediately took the notebook.
“We need a complete forensic review.”
Marcus backed toward the wall.
“She killed her.”
“We don’t know that.”
“She killed Rachel.”
He started crying.
Not loud.
Not dramatically.
He simply sank into a chair.
“I spent twenty years wondering.”
I looked at the fireplace.
Cold now.
Clean.
Too clean.
The forensic team began processing the stone and ash chamber.
Another officer searched outside.
Rain started.
Heavy.
Fast.
Then someone shouted from the back deck.
We ran.
An officer stood near an old boathouse.
“There’s a locked lower section.”
Marcus wiped his face.
“There wasn’t a lower section before.”
The boathouse rested partly over the water.
A steel door had been installed beneath the main floor.
Police broke the lock.
A staircase descended below lake level.
The air smelled damp.
We entered carefully.
At the bottom was another room.
Larger than the hidden room at my house.
A bed.
A table.
A camera.
Metal bars over a narrow window.
And a wall covered in height marks.
Rachel, age 8.
Rachel, age 9.
Then twenty years of nothing.
Below that:
Emma, 7.
Lily, 6.
I stopped.
“No.”
Lily had been here.
My daughter had been brought to this room without me knowing.
Hayes looked around.
“We need to determine when.”
I found a pink plastic hair clip beneath the bed.
I had bought the set for Lily.
I recognized the tiny butterfly.
I couldn’t touch it.
An evidence technician photographed it.
Then an officer opened a drawer.
Inside were printed schedules.
My flights.
Board meetings.
Business trips.
Every day I had been away from home for almost three years.
Vanessa had highlighted certain dates.
Red.
Blue.
Green.
A legend at the bottom explained them.
Red — Ethan away overnight.
Blue — Lily available.
Green — Emma transfer.
My legs nearly gave out.
Hayes put a hand on my shoulder.
“Sit down.”
I couldn’t.
“I left them with her.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
“We can deal with that later.”
She pointed at the schedules.
“Right now, this tells us Vanessa was planning systematically.”
An officer called from the far side of the room.
“Detective.”
He had found another phone.
Older.
Dead battery.
Forensics took it.
Then Hayes’s radio crackled.
A unit at the Dallas hospital.
Daniel and Emma had arrived safely.
Relief passed through me.
For about three seconds.
Then the officer continued.
“Detective, Mr. Brooks reports someone attempted to enter the pediatric floor using forged credentials.”
Hayes froze.
“Description?”
“Female. Approximately five-seven. Dark hair. Surgical mask.”
Vanessa.
I grabbed my phone.
“Call Daniel.”
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Hayes radioed the hospital.
The response came back immediately.
The pediatric floor was being locked down.
Then my phone rang.
Daniel.
I answered.
“Daniel?”
Breathing.
Fast.
“Ethan.”
“What happened?”
“She’s here.”
“Where are you?”
“In a stairwell.”
“Where’s Emma?”
“With me.”
I heard a child crying.
“Police are coming.”
“She killed the lights on the floor.”
My blood went cold.
Exactly like my house.
“Stay hidden.”
Daniel whispered, “She knows where we are.”
“How?”
A sound came through the phone.
A metal door.
Opening.
Emma whimpered.
Then Vanessa’s voice, soft and clear, came through the line.
May you like
“There you are.”
The call went dead.
