Chapter 5: The Key
The fishing gear was still in the basement of my old house.
I hadn't opened that storage room since my husband's funeral.
Linda drove behind me while Sarah and Greg stayed at the cottage.
Neither of us spoke for the first ten minutes.
Finally Linda said, “You don't have to do this alone.””
“I know.””
“What are you looking for?””
“I don't know.””
“That makes two of us.””
I smiled weakly.
When we reached the house, I unlocked the side door.
The smell hit me immediately.
Cedar.
Dust.
Old leather.
Memories.
My husband's fishing rods were still lined against the wall.
I walked to the shelves.
“One.””
“Two.””
I touched the third.
Nothing.
Linda crouched.
“Check underneath.””
My fingers found tape.
My heart jumped.
I pulled out a small brass key.
Attached to it was a handwritten tag.
*Locker 17. Asheville Storage.*
Linda stared at it.
“Your mother kept a storage locker?””
“Apparently.””
I slipped the key into my pocket.
Then we heard the front door slam.
I froze.
Linda whispered, “Did you lock it?””
“Yes.””
Footsteps moved through the hallway.
Slowly.
Someone was inside my house.
“Claire?”” a man's voice called.
I recognized it.
Greg.
He appeared in the doorway.
His eyes went straight to the key in my hand.
“What are you doing here?””
I stepped backward.
“What are you doing here?””
“Sarah sent me.””
“Why?””
“She was worried.””
“About me?””
He didn't answer.
Linda stepped between us.
“Leave.””
Greg raised both hands.
“I'm not here to fight.””
“Then go.””
He looked at me.
“Sarah said you found something.””
I said nothing.
His face changed.
“You did.””
I closed my hand around the key.
“Did Sarah send you for this?””
“No.””
“Then why are you here?””
He looked toward the basement stairs.
“I need to tell you something.””
Linda crossed her arms.
“Go ahead.””
Greg swallowed.
“Sarah didn't plan to stay at the cottage temporarily.””
“I know.””
“She wanted to make it permanent.””
“I know.””
“No, you don't.””
He stepped closer.
“She has been planning this for months.””
The room went silent.
“How long?””
“Since last winter.””
I felt the air leave my lungs.
Greg continued.
“She said you would eventually give her the cottage.””
“I wouldn't.””
“She knew that.””
“Then what did she plan to do?””
He looked at the floor.
“She said you'd change your mind once the renovations started.””
I stared at him.
“What renovations?””
“The wall wasn't the only thing.””
My stomach dropped.
“What else?””
“She wanted the basement converted.””
“For what?””
“I don't know.””
“Greg.””
“I swear.””
I watched his face.
He looked ashamed.
“You knew about the power of attorney.””
He nodded.
“She told me it was legitimate.””
“It isn't.””
“I know that now.””
“How?””
He pulled out his phone.
“I saw the original document.””
“Where?””
“In Sarah's email.””
My pulse quickened.
“Can you show me?””
He hesitated.
“She'll kill me.””
Linda stepped forward.
“She won't literally kill you.””
Greg looked at her.
“You don't know Sarah.””
I almost laughed.
Apparently, I didn't either.
“Show me.””
Greg opened his phone.
An email appeared.
The subject line read:
*Cottage Transfer — Final Steps.*
Attached were several files.
One was a copy of the power of attorney.
Another was a draft property transfer.
And the third was a scanned handwritten note.
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
My husband's.
I leaned closer.
He had written:
*If anything happens to me, Claire should know that—*
The sentence stopped there.
The bottom half of the page had been torn away.
“Where's the rest?”” I whispered.
Greg shook his head.
“I don't know.””
Then his phone buzzed.
A message from Sarah.
*Where are you?*
Another arrived immediately.
*Did you find the key?*
Greg looked at me.
I looked at the brass key in my hand.
Sarah knew about it.
Which meant one terrifying possibility remained.
May you like
My mother hadn't hidden the key from Sarah.
She had hidden it *because of her*.
