Chapter 8
The public library was fifteen minutes from our house.
Dad wanted the police with us.
Officer Martinez agreed.
Dr. Bennett came.
Mr. Carter stayed behind to speak with Richard Vale and another detective.
By the time we reached the library, the sun was setting.
I hadn't eaten.
I hadn't slept.
I felt as if I'd aged three years since lunch.
The library hadn't changed much.
Red brick.
Wide stone steps.
Glass doors.
Mom used to bring me every Saturday.
I suddenly remembered tiny things.
The smell of old books.
Her coffee cup.
The children's room with painted stars on the ceiling.
Dad looked at me.
“You remember where?”
“I think so.”
We entered.
Officer Martinez explained the situation to the head librarian, a woman named Mrs. Alvarez.
When Dad showed her the brass key, her eyes widened.
“We haven't used those in years.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Private document lockers.”
My pulse jumped.
The library had once offered small secure boxes for patrons who needed to store papers temporarily.
Most had been removed during a renovation.
Mrs. Alvarez led us downstairs.
“You said this key belonged to Sarah Dawson?”
Dad nodded.
She stopped.
“Sarah?”
“You knew her?”
Mrs. Alvarez smiled faintly.
“She volunteered here.”
I stared at her.
“When?”
“Years ago. Before she became ill.”
My throat tightened.
Nobody had ever told me.
“She brought Emily all the time,” Dad said.
Mrs. Alvarez looked at me carefully.
Then recognition appeared.
“Oh my goodness.”
Her eyes softened.
“You were the little girl who always hid under the reading table.”
I almost laughed.
A memory came back.
Mom pretending she couldn't find me.
Mrs. Alvarez wiping tears from her eyes.
“I'm sorry. Your mother was wonderful.”
“Thank you.”
She led us into a storage room.
Old shelves.
Boxes.
Retired equipment.
At the back was a metal cabinet with rows of tiny doors.
Most stood open.
Three were still locked.
Mrs. Alvarez looked at the key.
“Try number eighteen.”
“Why eighteen?”
“Sarah liked that number.”
My heart thudded.
I inserted the key.
It turned.
The door opened.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
Nothing else.
My name was written across the front.
EMILY.
Mom's handwriting.
My knees weakened.
Dad caught my shoulder.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Even Officer Martinez seemed reluctant to interrupt.
I took the envelope.
It was heavier than paper should've been.
I opened it carefully.
Inside was a letter.
A flash drive.
And another key.
This one was silver.
I unfolded the letter.
My hands shook so badly I could barely read.
Dear Emily,
If you're reading this, then either I finally became brave enough to tell you everything, or I ran out of time.
My vision blurred immediately.
I kept reading.
Mom explained that the Bennett family had money.
More money than people understood.
But money had destroyed them.
Her father believed wealth gave him the right to control everyone.
Mom escaped.
She wanted me to grow up without knowing what I might inherit because she wanted me to build a life that belonged to me.
Then came the part about the documents.
She had copied financial records exposing that Charles Bennett diverted assets from a trust created by his mother.
She had given some evidence to a lawyer.
But not all of it.
The originals were too dangerous to keep together.
So she separated them.
One set with an attorney.
One in a bank deposit box.
One digitally encrypted.
I looked at the flash drive.
Dad whispered, “Keep reading.”
Mom wrote that if anyone began asking questions after her death, I should trust Dad first.
Always.
After him, I could trust Margaret Bennett only if Margaret told me the truth without being forced.
I stopped.
Dr. Bennett's face crumpled.
She turned away.
I read that line again.
Only if Margaret told me the truth without being forced.
She hadn't.
Not really.
Not until Mrs. Carter exposed her.
Dr. Bennett knew it too.
Mom continued.
Do not trust anyone simply because they share blood with you.
Trust actions.
My chest hurt.
Then the final paragraphs changed everything.
There was another name.
Rebecca Shaw.
I stared at it.
“Rebecca Shaw?”
Dr. Bennett inhaled sharply.
Dad looked at her.
“Who?”
“Rebecca Carter's maiden name.”
My stomach dropped.
I continued reading.
Rebecca had once worked for Charles Bennett.
Not as family.
As his executive assistant.
Before she married Thomas Carter.
Mom wrote that Rebecca knew about the trust.
She knew where financial records were kept.
And she had helped Charles move money between companies.
Mr. Carter had apparently never known.
Mom believed Rebecca married into the Carter family partly because Charles introduced them.
But after Charles died, Rebecca continued trying to locate the missing trust documents.
My skin went cold.
This wasn't about Vanessa.
Not originally.
Vanessa's jealousy had given her mother a reason to look at me again.
Mom's letter said:
If Rebecca learns who you are, she may try to convince you that I stole from our family. I did take records. I took them because they proved Charles was stealing from you.
I closed my eyes.
Dad put an arm around me.
There was more.
A bank name.
A safe-deposit box number.
The silver key.
And one warning.
Never go alone.
Officer Martinez read the letter.
Her expression hardened.
“This changes things.”
Dr. Bennett nodded.
“Rebecca knows the estate.”
“Could she know about the deposit box?”
“She might.”
Dad asked, “Can we go tonight?”
Officer Martinez checked the bank.
Closed.
“We'll arrange it tomorrow.”
My stomach knotted.
“What if someone gets there first?”
“The box should require identification and the key.”
Dr. Bennett said, “Unless Rebecca has influence at the bank.”
Officer Martinez looked at her.
“Does she?”
“I don't know.”
That answer no longer comforted me.
We left the library with the envelope secured in an evidence bag.
Dad kept Mom's letter after police photographed it.
The flash drive went with Detective Martinez for forensic imaging.
I held the silver key.
In the parking lot, Dr. Bennett approached me.
“Emily.”
I didn't stop walking.
“I know you have every reason to be angry.”
I turned.
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“I have reasons not to trust you.”
That hurt her.
Good.
I hated thinking that, but it did.
I continued.
“Mom said trust actions.”
Dr. Bennett nodded.
“She was right.”
“You knew who I was for four years.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
“Yes.”
“You came to school today because?”
Her answer came quickly.
“Your father contacted the foundation office.”
I looked at Dad.
He nodded.
He had found Dr. Bennett's contact information after the school called saying I'd been involved in a fight.
He had no idea we were related.
He simply knew she had fought the board before.
Dr. Bennett continued.
“My staff told me Emily Miller was involved.”
“And you came because I'm family.”
“I came because I knew the school.”
She swallowed.
“But yes. I came personally because you're family.”
I studied her.
At least she didn't lie.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Lucas.
You won't believe what's happening.
I called him.
“What?”
“Vanessa got suspended.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Emergency board meeting.”
Dad looked at me.
Lucas continued.
“They suspended her pending investigation. Harris too.”
“What?”
“Principal Harris has been placed on administrative leave.”
Dr. Bennett raised her eyebrows.
News moved fast.
Lucas sounded almost excited.
“Whitmore turned over emails.”
My stomach twisted.
“What emails?”
“Between Harris and Mrs. Carter.”
Dr. Bennett asked me to put the phone on speaker.
Lucas explained.
Someone inside the administration leaked that Whitmore had given investigators a folder of emails.
In one, Mrs. Carter had allegedly asked Harris to “solve the Miller problem before junior-year rankings.”
Dad's jaw tightened.
“Do you have the email?”
“No. Just screenshots going around.”
Dr. Bennett warned, “Don't trust screenshots yet.”
Then Lucas became quiet.
“Emily?”
“What?”
“Vanessa texted me.”
My stomach dropped.
“What did she say?”
“She wants to talk to you.”
“No.”
Dad said it before I could.
Lucas continued.
“She says her mother is lying to everyone.”
I looked at Dad.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
Lucas hesitated.
“She said she knows who broke into your house.”
The parking lot suddenly felt colder.
Dad took my phone.
“Tell Vanessa to speak with the police.”
Lucas said, “I already did.”
“And?”
“She says she won't.”
“Why?”
Lucas took a breath.
“Because she says the person who did it is a cop.”
Officer Martinez's face changed.
Dad stared at her.
“What?”
Lucas quickly added, “That's all she said.”
Officer Martinez took out her phone.
“Give me Vanessa's number.”
Lucas did.
She stepped away to call her supervisor.
Dad looked at me.
“You're staying with me tonight.”
“I live with you.”
“I mean you don't leave my sight.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Then another message arrived.
This time from Vanessa directly.
I don't expect you to believe me.
A second message.
My mom is dangerous.
Then a third.
And she's coming for the key.
I stared at the screen.
Nobody at school knew about the key.
Nobody outside the library should have known.
Dad's face went white.
Officer Martinez ended her call.
“How does Vanessa know?”
I didn't answer.
Because suddenly I noticed something across the parking lot.
A black Range Rover.
Parked beneath a broken streetlight.
Engine running.
The moment I looked at it, the headlights came on.
“Dad.”
He turned.
The SUV accelerated out of the parking lot.
Officer Martinez ran toward her cruiser.
But it was already gone.
I looked down at Vanessa's final message.
May you like
She had sent one more line.
Don't go home.
