Chapter 2
The room went completely silent.
Vanessa recovered first.
“That is ridiculous.”
I stared at her.
Emily had been three years old when Rachel died.
Too young, everyone said, to understand what had happened.
Too young to remember the arguments.
Too young to remember the necklace.
But I had told her about it once.
Only once.
Rachel’s mother had given Rachel a diamond-and-sapphire pendant on our wedding day.
After Rachel died, the necklace vanished.
I had searched everywhere.
Police said it probably disappeared during the confusion after the accident.
I never believed that.
“Emily,” I said quietly, “where did you see Vanessa put the necklace?”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Daniel, she’s four.”
“Stay where you are.”
Something in my voice stopped her.
Emily sniffed.
“She put it in the purple box.”
“What purple box?”
“In Mommy’s closet.”
Vanessa laughed nervously.
“There are twenty boxes in my closet.”
Emily shook her head.
“The one behind the shoes.”
Vanessa’s smile disappeared.
I carried Emily upstairs.
Vanessa followed.
“Daniel, this is insane.”
Maria followed behind her.
I entered our bedroom.
Vanessa moved faster.
She tried to get around me.
I blocked the closet door.
“What are you afraid I’ll find?”
“Nothing.”
“Then stand back.”
I opened the closet.
Rows of expensive dresses.
Shoes.
Handbags.
Jewelry drawers.
Nothing unusual.
Emily pointed.
“Back there.”
I moved several shoe boxes.
Behind them sat a small purple velvet case.
Vanessa stopped breathing.
I picked it up.
“Daniel.”
I opened it.
My knees nearly gave out.
Rachel’s necklace lay inside.
For four years, I had imagined it lost forever.
Now it was resting among Vanessa’s belongings.
“No,” Vanessa whispered.
I looked at her.
“You want to explain this?”
“I found it.”
“Where?”
“In the house.”
“When?”
“A few months ago.”
“And you hid it?”
“I was going to tell you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She hesitated.
That hesitation told me more than her answer.
“I forgot.”
I laughed once.
It didn’t sound like laughter.
“You forgot you found my dead wife’s missing necklace?”
Vanessa’s eyes hardened.
“You’ve never stopped worshipping her.”
Maria gasped.
Emily clung tighter to my neck.
Vanessa continued.
“Every room has her picture.”
“She was Emily’s mother.”
“And I’m your wife.”
“Not for much longer.”
Her face changed.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
She stared at me.
“You’re angry. You don’t mean that.”
“I came home and saw you hurting my daughter.”
“It was discipline.”
“You put your shoe on her hand.”
“She was being disrespectful.”
“She is four years old.”
Vanessa looked toward Maria.
“This is because of you.”
Maria stepped back.
“What?”
“You’ve been filling Emily’s head with things.”
Maria shook her head.
“I would never.”
“You hate me.”
“I’m afraid of you,” Maria said.
That caught me off guard.
Vanessa turned slowly.
Maria’s hands were trembling.
“What did you say?”
Maria looked at me.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Mercer.”
“For what?”
“For not telling you sooner.”
My stomach tightened.
“Telling me what?”
Maria began crying.
“When you travel, Mrs. Mercer changes.”
Vanessa rushed toward her.
“Shut your mouth.”
I stepped between them.
Maria continued.
“She takes Emily’s toys away.”
“She locks her in her room.”
“She makes her eat alone.”
“She tells her you don’t want phone calls because you have more important things to do.”
I stared at Vanessa.
Every missed call.
Every time Vanessa told me Emily was asleep.
Every time Emily seemed strangely quiet during video chats.
Pieces began fitting together.
“How long?”
Maria wiped her face.
“Almost a year.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Vanessa answered for her.
“Because she knew I’d fire her.”
Maria shook her head.
“She threatened my family.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“She said if I interfered, she would make sure my husband lost his job and that immigration authorities would investigate my sister.”
“That’s a lie,” Vanessa snapped.
Maria reached into her apron.
She pulled out her phone.
“I recorded her.”
Vanessa lunged.
I caught her wrist.
“Give me the phone,” I told Maria.
Vanessa fought against me.
“You cannot record someone without permission.”
Maria unlocked the screen.
“There are eleven recordings.”
I pressed the first.
Vanessa’s voice filled the bedroom.
Cold.
Controlled.
Nothing like the woman who attended charity dinners beside me.
“If Daniel hears one word about what happens in this house, your family will regret it.”
The recording ended.
I looked at my wife.
She stared back without blinking.
Then Emily whispered against my shoulder.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Mommy has a secret room too.”
Vanessa’s expression shattered.
I felt my heartbeat slow.
“What secret room?”
Emily pointed downstairs.
“Behind Daddy’s books.”
Vanessa screamed.
“She is lying!”
Emily flinched.
I pulled her closer.
“Which books?”
“The ones in your office.”
I looked at Vanessa.
She looked terrified now.
Not angry.
Terrified.
I handed Emily back to Maria.
“Take her to the guest room. Lock the door.”
Vanessa grabbed my arm.
“Daniel, listen to me.”
I pulled away.
“What’s behind the books?”
“Nothing.”
I walked downstairs.
She followed.
“Daniel!”
I entered my office.
The safe stood behind a painting.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
Then I looked at the wall of bookshelves.
Emily had said behind Daddy’s books.
I began pulling books away.
Vanessa stood in the doorway.
“You are destroying our marriage because of a child’s imagination.”
I kept searching.
Then my fingers struck something metallic.
A small switch.
I pressed it.
A section of the bookshelf clicked.
Vanessa closed her eyes.
The shelf moved outward three inches.
Behind it was a narrow storage space.
I had owned this house for nine years.
I had never known it existed.
Inside sat a metal filing cabinet.
Three boxes.
A laptop.
And a black travel bag.
I opened the bag.
Cash.
Stacks of it.
At least two hundred thousand dollars.
Vanessa spoke behind me.
“I can explain.”
I pulled open the first box.
Inside were copies of my financial documents.
Bank statements.
Insurance papers.
Copies of my signature.
A second cell phone.
Then I found a folder labeled RACHEL.
My hands went numb.
I opened it.
There were photographs of Rachel.
Old photographs.
Some taken before her death.
Some from distances that suggested Rachel never knew she was being photographed.
And at the bottom was a printed email.
From Vanessa.
Dated three months before Rachel died.
The recipient’s name meant nothing to me.
But the message did.
I read the first line.
Make sure Daniel never discovers we knew each other before the accident.
My knees almost buckled.
I turned.
Vanessa was gone.
The front door slammed.
I ran toward the window.
Her car shot down the driveway.
I reached for my phone.
Then I heard Maria scream upstairs.
“Mr. Mercer!”
I raced up.
Maria stood in the hallway.
The guest-room door was open.
Emily was gone.
On the floor lay the little stuffed rabbit she slept with every night.
And beside it was a note.
May you like
Three words.
DON’T CALL POLICE.
