PART 4
“That depends on whether your mother finally told the truth about what happened to him.”
For a few seconds, I could hear nothing except the ticking clock in Mrs. Alvarez’s hallway.
My father.
Until that night, he had barely existed in my life.
He was a sentence my mother used whenever I asked too many questions.
“He left.”
“He wasn’t ready to be a father.”
“Some people just aren’t meant to stay.”
That was all.
No birthday cards.
No photographs.
No stories.
No name I was allowed to say without watching Mom’s expression close.
And now I was holding a photograph of him with me in his arms.
He looked happy.
Not uncomfortable.
Not trapped.
Happy.
I turned the picture over again.
Daniel Bennett with Sydney. Three months old.
My fingers tightened around the edges.
“My mother told me his name was Daniel Hale.”
Claire’s eyes filled.
“No.”
I looked up.
“She said I had her last name because he didn’t want me.”
Claire made a sound like the words physically hurt her.
“That isn’t true.”
“Then why am I Hale?”
Elaine stepped closer.
“Sydney, there may be legal records that explain some of this.”
“I don’t want records.”
My voice came out louder than I intended.
“I want somebody to tell me what happened.”
Nobody spoke.
I looked at Claire.
“You said he was your brother.”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
Her face changed.
That frightened me more than any answer could have.
“Claire.”
She looked toward Elaine.
Elaine gave the smallest nod.
Claire sat down.
I stayed standing.
“When you were born,” she began, “Daniel was twenty-seven.”
I stared at the photograph.
“He was a mechanic. Not glamorous. Not rich. But he loved fixing things.”
Her mouth trembled into a sad smile.
“When we were children, he used to take apart every broken appliance in our parents’ house just to see whether he could put it back together.”
I didn’t say anything.
“He met Rebecca at a friend’s birthday party.”
“My mom?”
Claire nodded.
“They were together for almost two years.”
“That’s not what she told me.”
“I know.”
“They were married?”
“No.”
“She said he disappeared before I was born.”
Claire closed her eyes briefly.
“No.”
“Then why is he holding me?”
“He was there when you were born.”
Something inside me cracked.
“He was?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Until you were almost two.”
I gripped the photograph harder.
That meant I had known him.
Maybe not in a way I could consciously remember.
But he had held me.
Fed me.
Heard me cry.
Maybe I had slept on his chest.
Maybe I had reached for him.
“Why did he leave?”
Claire looked at me.
“He didn’t.”
The answer hit like a door slamming shut.
“What?”
“He didn’t leave you voluntarily.”
I looked at Elaine.
Then Officer Brooks.
Then back at Claire.
“What does that mean?”
Claire drew a breath.
“Rebecca and Daniel had a terrible relationship by the end.”
I felt anger flare.
“Don’t make this about them fighting.”
“I’m not.”
“Then tell me.”
“She wanted to move.”
“Where?”
“Across the country.”
“Why?”
“She had been offered work. Or at least that’s what Daniel told me.”
Claire rubbed her palms together.
“Daniel refused to let her take you without some kind of custody agreement.”
My heart started pounding.
“He wanted custody?”
“He wanted to be your father.”
I looked down.
That sentence was almost unbearable.
For years I had believed the opposite.
Claire continued.
“They fought constantly about it. Rebecca said Daniel was controlling her. Daniel said Rebecca was trying to erase him.”
“Which was true?”
“I wasn’t there for every argument.”
That answer made me trust Claire a little more.
She wasn’t pretending to know things she didn’t.
“But I know my brother filed paperwork asking for shared custody.”
My head snapped up.
“He went to court?”
“Yes.”
“Did he win?”
“There was never a final ruling.”
“Why?”
Claire’s face went pale.
“Because Daniel disappeared.”
The room seemed to shrink.
I almost smiled because the word sounded so familiar.
That was the word Mom had used about him.
Disappeared.
Except she had told me he disappeared from us because he didn’t care.
“Disappeared where?”
“We didn’t know.”
“For how long?”
Claire stared at the floor.
“Eleven days.”
“And then?”
She didn’t answer.
My stomach twisted.
“And then what?”
“He was found.”
I felt my fingers go numb.
“Found where?”
Claire looked at me.
“In his car.”
The photograph slipped slightly in my hand.
“Was he dead?”
Mrs. Alvarez inhaled sharply.
Elaine moved closer to me.
Claire’s eyes filled again.
“Yes.”
The room blurred.
I didn’t cry immediately.
I just stared at Claire as if she had spoken in another language.
My father was dead.
Not missing.
Not living somewhere else.
Dead.
And my mother had known.
“How?”
I whispered.
Claire looked at Elaine.
Elaine spoke gently.
“His car was found at the bottom of a ravine approximately forty miles outside the city.”
“An accident?”
“At first, that was what investigators believed.”
“At first?”
Nobody answered.
I felt my heart begin pounding faster.
“What do you mean at first?”
Claire spoke.
“Daniel was found eleven days after he disappeared.”
She swallowed.
“But the condition of the car didn’t match some of the early assumptions.”
I stared at her.
“What assumptions?”
“There were questions about whether he had actually driven off the road.”
Officer Brooks stepped in.
“Sydney, some of this became part of an investigation.”
“Into what?”
No one answered quickly enough.
I turned toward Elaine.
“Was my mom investigated?”
Elaine’s silence told me before her words did.
“She was interviewed.”
My stomach dropped.
“Interviewed because she was his girlfriend?”
“Because she was one of the last people known to have seen him alive.”
The house became completely silent.
“What?”
Claire wiped her cheeks.
“They had an argument that night.”
I looked from face to face.
“How do you know?”
“There were witnesses.”
“What happened?”
Claire hesitated.
“Daniel had come to your mother’s apartment to get you.”
“Get me?”
“You were supposed to spend the weekend with him.”
That meant there had been some arrangement.
Some routine.
He hadn’t vanished from my life before I could remember him.
He had been part of it.
“What happened?”
“Rebecca refused to let him take you.”
“Why?”
“We never got a clear answer.”
Claire stared at the picture in my hand.
“They argued outside the apartment building.”
“How bad?”
“Bad enough that neighbors called the police.”
My stomach tightened.
“Were they arrested?”
“No. Daniel left before officers arrived.”
“Then he disappeared?”
Claire nodded.
My voice shook.
“And Mom never told me?”
“No.”
“What did she tell police?”
Elaine answered.
“She said Daniel had been angry and drove away.”
“And then his car went off a ravine?”
“That was the initial conclusion.”
I stared at her.
“You keep saying initial.”
Officer Brooks crouched slightly so he wasn’t towering over me.
“Because the investigation later identified inconsistencies.”
“What kind?”
He hesitated.
“The position of the vehicle.”
I waited.
“Damage patterns.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means investigators could not determine with certainty whether the car left the roadway the way they first believed.”
My skin prickled.
“Did somebody put it there?”
“We don’t know.”
“Did someone kill him?”
“We don’t know that either.”
“Then what do you know?”
Claire whispered, “We know he was supposed to meet me that morning.”
I turned toward her.
“He never came.”
“For what?”
Her eyes moved to the sealed envelope.
“To give me copies of custody documents.”
I stared at her.
“He thought Rebecca might take you.”
My mouth went dry.
“He told me that if anything happened, I should make sure you didn’t disappear with her.”
I looked at the letter.
The room suddenly felt colder.
“Did Mom know he was giving you papers?”
“I don’t know.”
“But she knew he wanted custody.”
“Yes.”
I started pacing.
Eleven years of my life began rearranging themselves inside my head.
Why Mom changed the subject whenever I asked about Dad.
Why there were no pictures.
Why I carried her last name.
Why I had been sent to Claire when I was six.
Why there had been a previous investigation.
I stopped.
“Wait.”
Everyone looked at me.
“When I was six, why did I stay with Claire?”
Claire’s face changed again.
“Because when child services investigated Rebecca that first time, they searched for relatives.”
“And found you.”
“Yes.”
“But if Mom told me Dad had no family…”
“She lied.”
The word came from Mrs. Alvarez.
Quiet.
Simple.
Undeniable.
I looked back at Claire.
“Why didn’t you keep me?”
Her eyes closed.
There it was again.
Pain.
“I tried.”
“How?”
“I petitioned for temporary guardianship.”
“Then why did I go back?”
“Because Rebecca completed the requirements.”
“What requirements?”
“Parenting classes. Home checks. Supervision plans. Counseling.”
“And that was enough?”
“At the time, yes.”
I stared at her.
“You knew I was going back to someone who lied about my father.”
“I told them.”
“Who?”
“Everyone who would listen.”
“Then why didn’t they believe you?”
Claire’s voice broke.
“Because suspicion isn’t proof.”
I looked at Elaine.
“She’s right?”
Elaine nodded reluctantly.
“The old records show concerns, but no finding that Rebecca harmed Daniel.”
I felt sick.
“What did Mom say happened to him?”
Claire answered.
“She said he was reckless. Distracted. Angry.”
My hands curled.
“And then she told me he abandoned me.”
“Yes.”
That was when the tears finally came.
I wiped them away quickly.
“She made me hate him.”
Claire started crying too.
“She made me think he didn’t want me.”
“I know.”
“She watched me grow up thinking that.”
“I know.”
I looked at Elaine.
“Open the letter.”
She hesitated.
“Sydney—”
“It has my name on it.”
“It may contain information that is difficult to process.”
“Everything tonight is difficult.”
No one argued.
Elaine studied me.
Then she carefully removed the cream-colored envelope from the evidence sleeve.
The paper was old enough that the corners had softened.
My name was written across the front in Mom’s handwriting.
FOR SYDNEY — WHEN SHE TURNS EIGHTEEN.
IF I HAVEN’T TOLD HER THE TRUTH BY THEN, GIVE HER THIS.
Elaine looked at me.
“Do you want me to read it?”
I nodded.
She opened the envelope.
Inside were three folded pages.
And something smaller.
A photograph.
Elaine unfolded the first page.
I watched her eyes move across it.
Then she stopped.
“What?” I asked.
Her face had gone pale.
“What does it say?”
She looked toward Officer Brooks.
He stepped beside her.
“Elaine?”
She handed him the page.
He read the first several lines.
His expression hardened.
Claire stood.
“What?”
Officer Brooks looked at me.
Then at the letter.
“This is not what I expected.”
I felt anger rise again.
“Read it.”
Elaine took the letter back.
Then she began.
“‘Sydney, if you are reading this, you are old enough to know that I have lied to you about your father.’”
My throat closed.
Elaine continued.
“‘Daniel did not abandon you.’”
Claire covered her mouth.
“‘He loved you more than anything I had ever seen.’”
I looked down at the photograph in my hand.
My father smiled back at me.
“Keep reading.”
Elaine did.
“‘What happened between Daniel and me became ugly, and I did things I am ashamed of.’”
Officer Brooks shifted beside her.
“‘I told myself I was protecting you. Some of that may have been true. Some of it was jealousy. Some of it was anger. And some of it was fear that if Daniel got custody, you would love him more than you loved me.’”
I stopped breathing.
Claire whispered something under her breath.
Elaine continued.
“‘The night Daniel disappeared, he came to take you for the weekend. I refused. We fought. He said he was going to court Monday morning and asking for emergency custody.’”
The page shook slightly in Elaine’s hand.
“‘I told him he would never take you from me.’”
I looked toward Officer Brooks.
His jaw had tightened.
“Keep going.”
Elaine swallowed.
“‘Daniel left angry. I followed him.’”
Nobody moved.
Claire grabbed the back of a chair.
“What?”
Elaine continued slowly.
“‘I left Sydney with someone I trusted and followed Daniel because I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to Claire’s house.’”
Claire’s face went white.
“She followed him?”
Officer Brooks held up a hand.
Elaine kept reading.
“‘We argued again at the overlook on Route 16.’”
Claire shook her head.
“No.”
“‘He told me he had copies of everything and that I couldn’t keep hiding things.’”
I felt my heartbeat in my ears.
“‘He got back into his car.’”
Elaine stopped.
“Read it.”
“Sydney—”
“Read it.”
She looked at me.
Then continued.
“‘I stood in front of the car.’”
My hands went cold.
“‘He yelled for me to move.’”
Elaine’s voice became quieter.
“‘I didn’t.’”
Claire began crying.
“‘Eventually he got out again.’”
I couldn’t breathe.
“‘We argued near the edge.’”
Elaine stopped again.
This time Officer Brooks gently took the pages from her.
He read silently.
His entire expression changed.
“What?” Claire demanded.
“What happened?”
Officer Brooks looked at Elaine.
Then at me.
“Sydney, there is more here that may need to be handled differently.”
“No.”
I stood.
“You don’t get to stop now.”
“This may describe a serious crime.”
“I know.”
“You’re eleven.”
“So was I when she left me alone for a month.”
That silenced him.
“I have spent my whole life believing my father didn’t want me.”
My voice shook.
“I want the truth.”
Officer Brooks looked at Elaine.
Elaine nodded slowly.
He continued reading aloud.
“‘Daniel told me he was done arguing. He turned away.’”
A pause.
“‘I grabbed his jacket.’”
Claire made a broken sound.
“‘He pulled away from me.’”
Officer Brooks stopped.
The next sentence seemed difficult even for him.
“‘He lost his footing.’”
My body went numb.
“No.”
Claire whispered it.
“No.”
Officer Brooks continued.
“‘He fell over the edge.’”
The room disappeared.
I stared at him.
“Fell?”
Nobody spoke.
“Did she push him?”
Officer Brooks looked at the page.
“The letter says she grabbed him and he fell.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Claire was shaking.
“Did she help him?”
Officer Brooks kept reading.
His face changed again.
Then he stopped completely.
“What?”
I demanded.
He looked toward Elaine.
“Call your supervisor.”
Claire stared at him.
“What does it say?”
Officer Brooks lowered the letter.
And I knew before he spoke that whatever came next was worse.
“She says Daniel survived the fall.”
Claire screamed.
Not loudly.
It was more like the air had been ripped out of her.
“What?”
Officer Brooks looked down again.
“According to Rebecca’s letter, she could hear him calling from below.”
My stomach twisted.
“What did she do?”
Nobody answered.
“What did she do?”
Officer Brooks continued.
“‘I could hear him shouting my name.’”
His voice was flat now.
Professional.
As if that were the only way he could keep reading.
“‘I could hear him asking me to call for help.’”
Claire sat down hard.
I started crying.
“Did she?”
Officer Brooks looked at me.
My mother’s words were still on the page.
“‘I took out my phone.’”
Hope flashed through me for half a second.
Then Officer Brooks continued.
“‘But Daniel said that when police arrived, he would tell them everything.’”
I stopped breathing.
“What everything?”
The next sentence answered.
“‘He said he had proof I had been taking money from the account his mother created for Sydney.’”
I stared at the floor.
Money.
Even at eleven, I understood enough.
“What account?”
Claire looked confused.
“My mother left Sydney money?”
Officer Brooks kept reading.
“‘He said he had statements, messages, and copies of the transfers.’”
Claire stood.
“I didn’t know this.”
Elaine said, “Neither did I.”
“Keep reading.”
Officer Brooks did.
“‘I panicked.’”
His voice slowed.
“‘I walked back to my car.’”
No.
“‘Daniel kept shouting.’”
No.
“‘I drove away.’”
My knees gave out.
Mrs. Alvarez caught me.
I barely felt her.
Claire was sobbing now.
“She left him?”
Officer Brooks looked at the letter.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
He turned the page.
“There’s more.”
I didn’t want more.
I needed more.
“Read it.”
“‘I went home.’”
My mother’s words.
Her confession.
“‘I convinced myself someone else would find him.’”
Claire shook her head over and over.
“‘The next morning, I saw reports that Daniel was missing.’”
I covered my mouth.
“‘I said nothing.’”
Elaine sat down beside me.
“‘Two days later, I went back.’”
Claire stared at Officer Brooks.
“Two days?”
“‘His car was still there, but it was visible from the road in a way it hadn’t been before.’”
Officer Brooks paused.
“‘I knew eventually someone would search the ravine.’”
The next line changed everything again.
“‘I climbed down.’”
Claire whispered, “Oh God.”
“‘Daniel was alive.’”
I stared at Officer Brooks.
“What?”
“He was alive after two days?”
“That is what she wrote.”
My body shook.
“What did she do?”
Officer Brooks closed his eyes briefly.
Then read.
“‘He was barely conscious.’”
“‘He recognized me.’”
“‘He asked for water.’”
I started crying harder.
“Stop,” Mrs. Alvarez whispered.
But I shook my head.
“No.”
I needed to know.
Officer Brooks continued.
“‘I had water in my car.’”
A long pause.
“‘I did not give it to him.’”
Claire folded forward like she had been punched.
I felt empty.
Not angry.
Not yet.
Just empty.
“‘He asked about Sydney.’”
Officer Brooks’s voice cracked slightly.
“‘He said, “Tell her I tried.”’”
I broke.
The photograph dropped from my hand.
Mrs. Alvarez caught me against her chest.
I sobbed in a way I hadn’t even when I was hungry.
Because suddenly my father wasn’t an imaginary man who had chosen another life.
He had been lying injured somewhere, thinking about me.
And my mother had known.
“‘I left him there.’”
Officer Brooks stopped.
Nobody asked him to continue.
Nobody needed to.
The room was full of people, but I had never felt so alone.
After several minutes, Claire lifted her head.
“Why wasn’t this found in the original investigation?”
Officer Brooks stared at the letter.
“Because nobody had this confession.”
“But the medical examiner—”
“Could have concluded the injuries came from the crash and exposure.”
“He wasn’t in the car.”
Officer Brooks frowned.
“What?”
Claire stood.
“You said he fell.”
“Yes.”
“Daniel was found inside his car.”
That sentence froze everyone.
Officer Brooks looked at Elaine.
Elaine’s face changed.
“Are you sure?”
“I identified his body.”
Claire’s voice shook.
“He was inside the driver’s seat.”
I stopped crying.
Slowly, I looked up.
“What does that mean?”
Officer Brooks didn’t answer immediately.
Then he looked at the final page.
There were still several paragraphs.
He began reading again.
“‘When I returned the third time, Daniel was no longer conscious.’”
Claire stared.
“Third time?”
Officer Brooks continued.
“‘I believed he was dead.’”
My stomach turned.
“‘I knew if he was found below the overlook, they would ask why he had left his car above.’”
Elaine whispered, “Rebecca.”
Officer Brooks read the next line.
“‘I moved him.’”
Claire gasped.
“‘I put him in the passenger side first because I couldn’t lift him properly.’”
I felt sick.
“‘Then I drove the car farther down Route 16.’”
Nobody breathed.
“‘I put him behind the wheel.’”
Mrs. Alvarez whispered, “My God.”
“‘I released the brake.’”
Officer Brooks stopped.
He didn’t need to read the next line.
I understood.
But he did anyway.
“‘I watched the car roll over the edge.’”
The clock kept ticking.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
My mother had not simply lied about my father.
She had not simply abandoned him injured.
According to her own letter, she had staged his death.
And for nine years, she had let me believe he abandoned me.
Claire’s grief changed into something else.
Rage.
“She murdered him.”
Officer Brooks lifted a hand.
“We need to be precise. This letter is evidence, not a final legal conclusion.”
“She left him alive for days!”
“I understand.”
“She moved his body!”
“I understand.”
“She sent the car into a ravine!”
“I understand.”
Claire pointed toward the letter.
“And she wrote it down!”
Officer Brooks looked toward Elaine.
“We need detectives here.”
Elaine nodded and stepped into the hallway to make the call.
I barely heard them.
I was staring at the small photograph that had fallen onto the carpet.
My father holding me.
Claire noticed.
She picked it up.
Then she handed it back.
“He loved you.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t know what he would’ve been like.”
“No.”
She wiped her face.
“But I know what he was like then.”
“What?”
“He carried a picture of you in his wallet.”
More tears came.
“He showed it to strangers.”
I laughed once through the crying.
“He did?”
“He was unbearable.”
That almost made me smile.
Claire smiled too, for half a second.
Then I remembered something.
“The money.”
Her smile disappeared.
“What?”
“The letter said Mom was taking money from an account.”
Claire frowned.
“My mother—your grandmother—set something up when you were born.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
Officer Brooks looked at the letter.
“There may be documentation in Rebecca’s house.”
Then Mrs. Alvarez said something that made everyone stop.
“Rebecca knew Elaine was retrieving documents from the cabinet.”
Elaine turned back from the hallway.
“Yes.”
“She gave permission?”
“Yes.”
“Why would she give you permission if that letter was inside?”
Nobody answered.
That was a good question.
If my mother had hidden a confession for nine years, why let someone open the cabinet?
Elaine’s eyes narrowed.
“Maybe she forgot it was there.”
Claire shook her head.
“You don’t forget something like that.”
Officer Brooks looked toward the envelope.
“Was the cabinet locked?”
“Yes.”
“Where was the key?”
“Rebecca gave it to me.”
That made even less sense.
Then my stomach tightened.
“What if she wanted you to find it?”
Elaine looked at me.
“Why would she?”
I thought about Mom signing the acknowledgment before I left.
I thought about her saying, “I’m sorry.”
No “but.”
I thought about how defeated she had looked.
“What if she knew everything was coming out?”
Nobody responded.
My phone buzzed.
I jumped.
It was sitting on a side table.
Everyone looked toward it.
I picked it up.
MOM
One new message.
My fingers shook.
“What does it say?” Mrs. Alvarez asked.
I opened it.
There were only three sentences.
I’m sorry you had to learn this way.
There is one more thing in the house that belongs to you.
Don’t let Claire open it first.
I showed Elaine.
Claire looked stunned.
“What does she mean?”
I didn’t know.
Officer Brooks immediately pulled out his phone.
“I’m having someone sent to the house.”
He called.
Nobody answered.
He tried again.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Elaine asked.
He lowered the phone.
“The unit that was supposed to remain nearby says Rebecca’s car is gone.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Elaine moved toward him.
“When did she leave?”
“They don’t know. They were diverted to another call and returned fifteen minutes later.”
Claire’s face went pale.
“She ran.”
Officer Brooks was already speaking into his radio.
I stared at Mom’s message.
There is one more thing in the house that belongs to you.
Don’t let Claire open it first.
“Why would she say that?”
Claire whispered.
Then my phone buzzed again.
Another message.
This one was a photograph.
A wooden box.
Dark brown.
Brass latch.
I recognized the room behind it.
Mom’s bedroom closet.
Underneath the picture she had written:
Your father made this for you.
And then:
Claire knows what’s inside.
Claire made a choking sound.
I looked at her.
“You know that box?”
She stared at the photograph.
“No.”
“You just reacted.”
“I know the carving.”
“What carving?”
I zoomed in.
On the lid was a tiny symbol burned into the wood.
A star inside a circle.
Claire covered her mouth.
“My father used to put that mark on things he made for family.”
“So my father made this?”
“Yes.”
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
I could tell she was lying.
“So Mom was right.”
“Sydney—”
“You know.”
Claire looked terrified.
That frightened me.
“Tell me.”
She shook her head.
“I need to see the box.”
“Why?”
“Because if it’s what I think it is…”
She stopped.
“What?”
Her eyes filled.
“It may explain what Daniel meant when he told Rebecca he had proof.”
Officer Brooks ended his radio call.
“We’re going back to the house.”
Elaine looked at me.
“Sydney stays here.”
“No.”
Everyone looked at me.
“I’m going.”
“Sydney—”
“That box is mine.”
“It may be evidence.”
“Then I’m going.”
Elaine started to argue.
Officer Brooks stopped her.
“She can stay in the car until the scene is secure.”
Twenty minutes later, we were back outside my house.
Police cars lined the street.
Neighbors watched from windows.
The house where I had spent thirty days alone now looked like a crime scene.
I stayed in Mrs. Alvarez’s car while officers entered.
Then one came back outside.
He spoke to Officer Brooks.
Brooks looked toward me.
Even from the car, I knew something was wrong.
He walked over.
“The box is gone.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Someone removed it.”
“Mom?”
“We don’t know.”
I opened her text again.
Your father made this for you.
Claire knows what’s inside.
Then another message arrived.
This one wasn’t from Mom’s number.
Unknown.
No words.
Just a photograph.
It showed the wooden box sitting on a table.
Beside it was today’s newspaper.
Proof the picture had just been taken.
Then a second message appeared.
Sydney should ask Claire what happened on May 14, 2017.
Claire saw the screen through the open car door.
All the color left her face.
“What happened May 14, 2017?” I asked.
She said nothing.
“Claire?”
She backed away from the car.
Officer Brooks noticed immediately.
“Ms. Bennett?”
Claire’s eyes filled.
“That date has nothing to do with Daniel’s death.”
“Then what does it have to do with?”
She looked at me.
And I saw something I hadn’t seen before.
Guilt.
“Claire.”
My voice shook.
“What happened?”
She whispered, “That was the day I found out your mother had been lying about where Daniel’s money went.”
I frowned.
“You already said that.”
“No.”
Her voice became thinner.
“That isn’t the part Rebecca is threatening me with.”
“What part?”
Claire closed her eyes.
“When you were six, and you stayed with me…”
My pulse quickened.
“What?”
“I found something in your backpack.”
“What?”
“A key.”
“To the box?”
Claire nodded.
“And?”
“I opened it.”
My stomach tightened.
“What was inside?”
Claire stared at the police lights reflecting across the house.
“Letters from Daniel.”
“To who?”
“To you.”
I couldn’t speak.
“How many?”
“Dozens.”
“Where are they?”
Claire looked down.
“I took them.”
My chest went cold.
“You what?”
“I thought I was protecting them.”
“From Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Then give them to me.”
Claire didn’t answer.
“Give them to me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re gone.”
I stared at her.
“What happened to them?”
She started crying.
“I burned them.”
The words hit me almost as hard as Mom’s confession.
“You burned my father’s letters?”
“I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of what was in them.”
My voice broke.
“What was in them?”
Claire looked toward Officer Brooks.
Then she said:
“Daniel wrote those letters before he died.”
“I understand that.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You don’t.”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“The last letter was dated three days after Rebecca says he fell from the overlook.”
Nobody moved.
My mind refused to process it.
“What?”
Claire whispered:
“According to your mother’s confession, Daniel was trapped in that ravine.”
“Yes.”
“But I received a letter in his handwriting during those same three days.”
Officer Brooks’s face changed.
“You’re certain?”
“I kept the envelope for years.”
“Postmarked?”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
Claire looked at me.
And whatever answer she gave next, I knew it was going to tear apart the confession we had just read.
“From a town two hundred miles away.”
I stared at her.
“That’s impossible.”
Claire nodded.
“I know.”
Officer Brooks looked toward the house.
“If that’s true, Rebecca’s letter may not be telling the whole story.”
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
This time, there was text.
Your mother lied about Daniel.
Then another message.
Claire lied too.
Then:
If Sydney wants to know which one of them is telling the truth, come to the place where Daniel was supposed to meet Claire the morning he disappeared.
A location pin appeared beneath the message.
Claire saw it.
She stumbled backward.
“No.”
Officer Brooks looked at her.
“You recognize the location?”
Claire’s entire body began trembling.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
Her eyes locked onto mine.
“It’s not where Daniel was supposed to meet me.”
I felt the cold move through me again.
“Then where is it?”
Claire whispered:
“It’s where he took Sydney the night before he disappeared.”
I stared at her.
“I was there?”
“You were almost two.”
“What place?”
Claire looked at the location pin one last time.
Then she said:
“Your father’s cabin.”
I had never heard of a cabin.
Officer Brooks asked, “Who owns it now?”
Claire didn’t answer.
“Ms. Bennett?”
She finally looked up.
“No one.”
“What do you mean?”
“It burned down nine years ago.”
My phone buzzed one final time.
A picture loaded.
Not the wooden box.
Not the cabin.
A man.
Older now.
Standing beside a pickup truck.
The photograph had clearly been taken recently.
My heart nearly stopped.
Because even with the gray in his hair and the lines around his eyes, I recognized him instantly.
He had the same gray eyes.
The same nose.
The same crooked smile.
The man from the photograph holding me as a baby.
My father.
Underneath the picture were six words:
SYDNEY, DANIEL BENNETT DID NOT DIE.
TO BE CONTINUED READ PART 5: My mom went to Europe for a month and left me with $20 when I was eleven. When they finally came back—what my mom saw made her gasp. “No. No. This can’t be happening.”
