Chapter 13: The Letter from a Dead Woman
“Don't touch anything else.””
My voice shook so badly I barely recognized it.
Patricia went silent.
“I already picked up the letter.””
“Put it down.””
“Daniel—”
“Put it down and call the people handling this.””
“I was only trying to help.””
“You've been ‘trying to help’ since this started.””
That silenced her.
I closed my eyes.
“I'm sorry. Just don't move anything else.””
“I won't.””
An hour later, the letter had been preserved.
I didn't see the original immediately.
Samuel sent me a photograph.
The paper looked old.
The handwriting looked disturbingly familiar.
Dear Vanessa,
If you're reading this, then you've become important to Daniel and Emily.
My hands went cold.
Rachel had been dead years before Vanessa and I met.
The letter continued.
Emily needs a mother more than she needs memories of me. Please don't let guilt stop Daniel from giving her the family she deserves.
I stopped reading.
Marcus stood behind me.
“That's sick.””
I couldn't answer.
The last paragraph was worse.
If Emily resists you, be patient but firm. She may cling to me because Daniel has taught her to. Help her let go.
At the bottom:
Rachel.
Someone had manufactured permission from my dead wife.
Permission to replace her.
Permission to pressure Emily.
Maybe even permission Vanessa could show others if questions were ever asked.
I called Margaret.
“Could Rachel have written anything like this?””
“No.””
She didn't hesitate.
“Not to Vanessa. The timeline makes that impossible.””
“Could someone copy Rachel's handwriting?””
“Anyone with access to samples could attempt it.””
My eyes moved toward the fireproof box.
Birthday cards.
Old notes.
Rachel's letter to me.
Plenty of samples.
Then I remembered Vanessa's comment.
You really should pay more attention to what you sign.
She hadn't only studied my signature.
She'd had access to Rachel's handwriting too.
Samuel called next.
“Don't confront Vanessa about the letter.””
“I wasn't planning to.””
That was almost true.
“What happens now?””
“The relevant authorities will evaluate the documents and financial records. Your job is Emily.””
My job is Emily.
Four simple words.
For once, I listened.
The next morning, I made pancakes.
Not because I was good at pancakes.
I wasn't.
The first one looked like a burned map of Texas.
Emily stared at it.
“Daddy?””
“Yes?””
“Is that food?””
Dana laughed so hard she had to turn away.
“Technically.””
Emily giggled.
It was the first full laugh I'd heard from her since I came home early.
I made another.
Better.
Then another.
Caleb arrived with Patricia later that morning after arrangements were made for him to remain somewhere separate from Vanessa while things were reviewed.
Emily ran to him.
“I saved your strawberry!””
She opened the refrigerator.
Then stopped.
Her hand froze on the handle.
I saw the fear return.
No lock.
Different house.
Different kitchen.
But memory didn't care.
Caleb noticed too.
He walked beside her and opened the door.
“See?””
Emily stared inside.
Food everywhere.
Caleb picked up a yogurt.
“Can I have this?””
Dana called from the counter.
“Of course.””
He handed it to Emily.
She whispered, “Without asking?””
Dana heard.
“You can always ask if you're unsure. But nobody here is going to punish you for being hungry.””
Emily looked at me.
I nodded.
She took the yogurt.
That tiny act felt more important than every document on Samuel's desk.
Later, Caleb asked to speak with me alone.
We sat on the back porch.
“Did my mom make the fake letter?””
“I don't know yet.””
“She lies a lot.””
I didn't answer.
He picked at a loose thread on his sleeve.
“Sometimes she told me Emily was trying to steal you.””
“Steal me?””
“She said if you loved Emily too much, there wouldn't be enough left for us.””
I leaned forward.
“Caleb, love doesn't work like food on a plate.””
He looked at me.
“You don't run out?””
“No.””
He considered that.
“Mom thought you did.””
Maybe that was the tragedy beneath everything.
But understanding something wasn't the same as excusing it.
My phone rang.
Samuel.
“We have an update.””
I stepped inside.
“What?””
“The handwriting on the fake Rachel letter appears to have been traced from multiple genuine samples.””
My stomach tightened.
“Can they tell who did it?””
“Not from that alone.””
“Anything else?””
“Yes.””
He paused.
“Investigators recovered a draft on a device associated with Hawthorne.””
“A draft of the letter?””
“Yes.””
My pulse jumped.
“Whose device?””
“A laptop used by Vanessa.””
I shut my eyes.
There it was.
Not an accusation from Patricia.
Not Caleb's memory.
A digital trail.
Samuel continued.
“There are also draft versions of the guardianship paperwork.””
“With my signature?””
“The files contain image elements resembling your signature.””
I sat down.
For months, Vanessa had been constructing paperwork around a future where Emily disappeared from our daily life.
“Is that enough?””
“Enough for what?””
“To finally prove what she did.””
“It's evidence. Let the process determine the rest.””
I hated patience.
But I understood.
Then Samuel said, “There's something you should prepare for.””
“What?””
“Vanessa wants to speak with you.””
“No.””
“She says she'll provide passwords and information about Hawthorne if you meet.””
“I don't need to meet her for that.””
“I agree.””
“Then why tell me?””
“Because she made a specific request.””
My jaw tightened.
“What?””
“She wants Emily there.””
I stood.
“Absolutely not.””
“I expected that answer.””
“Why would she ask?””
Samuel paused.
“She says she needs to tell Emily the truth.””
I looked toward the kitchen.
My daughter was sitting beside Caleb, eating yogurt and drawing a purple house.
“No.””
Then Emily looked up.
“Daddy?””
I covered the phone.
“Yes?””
She pointed toward her picture.
“I made a house with no locks.””
My throat closed.
I walked over and kissed her forehead.
May you like
And right then I knew Vanessa would never again decide what truth my daughter was forced to hear.
But I still didn't know the final secret Vanessa was trying so desperately to tell her.
