Chapter 4 - The Lie in the GarageDad grabbed my wrist.
“Don't say anything.”
His fingers were trembling.
I stared at him.
“Vanessa is upstairs.”
“I know.”
“She lied to me.”
“I know.”
“She destroyed my dress.”
“I know.”
His grip tightened.
“And she knows something about Mom.”
Dad looked toward the garage door.
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
Then Vanessa called again.
“Daniel?”
Her footsteps crossed the kitchen floor.
Dad lowered his voice.
“Take the police report.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Take it.”
“Why?”
“Because if Vanessa finds out you have it, she'll destroy it.”
I shoved the report into my graduation bag.
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
“Keep it somewhere she can't find it.”
“You're talking like she's dangerous.”
Dad stared at me.
“She is.”
A floorboard creaked above us.
Mia appeared at the top of the basement stairs.
“She’s looking for you.”
Dad pointed at the stairs.
“Stay here.”
Mia shook her head.
“She won't.”
“Why?”
“Because she's already in the study.”
My heart stopped.
The study.
Dad's note.
The thing he said my mother had left there.
“What is in the study?”
Dad didn't answer.
I stepped toward him.
“What is in there?”
He finally looked at me.
“A file.”
“What file?”
“The original one.”
“Original what?”
“The investigation.”
Before he could say more, we heard Vanessa's footsteps descending the stairs.
Slow.
Unhurried.
As though she owned the house.
Dad moved in front of me.
Vanessa appeared.
She wasn't smiling anymore.
She wore the same beige coat from earlier, but now one hand was gripping a black leather folder.
Her eyes immediately landed on the metal lockbox.
Then on the photograph in my hand.
Then on me.
“Daniel,” she said softly.
He didn't respond.
Vanessa looked at me.
“Emma, sweetheart, what are you doing down here?”
I held up the photo.
“Looking at pictures.”
Her face changed for half a second.
Then she smiled.
“That isn't something you should be looking at.”
“Why?”
“Because you're upset.”
“I'm not asking whether I'm upset.”
I stepped closer.
“I'm asking why you were at my mother's funeral.”
Vanessa looked at Dad.
He stared back at her.
“You told her?”
“I didn't.”
Vanessa's smile vanished.
“Daniel.”
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“Why were you there?”
She sighed.
“Because I knew your mother.”
“You worked with her.”
“Yes.”
“You stole from her.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Who told you that?”
“My sister.”
Vanessa glanced toward the stairs.
“Mia.”
Mia came down another step.
“Don't look at me.”
Vanessa's voice hardened.
“You should have stayed out of this.”
Mia froze.
I stepped in front of her.
“Don't talk to her like that.”
Vanessa looked back at me.
“You have no idea what you're accusing people of.”
“Then explain.”
She looked at Dad.
“Daniel, tell her.”
Dad said nothing.
“Tell her the truth.”
Still nothing.
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“So that's how it's going to be?”
I held up the photograph.
“The picture says my mother crashed eleven minutes before this was taken.”
Vanessa stared at it.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your reaction tells me it's real.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“No.”
She took one step forward.
Dad blocked her.
“Don't.”
Vanessa stopped.
For a moment, the three of us stood there in silence.
Then she said something that made my stomach drop.
“You really shouldn't have opened that box.”
I looked at Dad.
“You told me there was nothing in it.”
“I know.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“You were always terrible at lying to her.”
Dad's face hardened.
“Enough.”
“No,” Vanessa said. “Not enough. Not after seventeen years.”
I looked at her.
“What happened seventeen years ago?”
She glanced at the lockbox.
“Your mother found the records.”
“What records?”
“Financial records.”
“About what?”
“My company.”
I frowned.
“Your company?”
She corrected herself.
“Your mother's.”
Claire appeared at the garage entrance.
“She means the design firm.”
Vanessa looked at her.
“You came too?”
Claire folded her arms.
“You should have known I would.”
Vanessa let out a humorless laugh.
“Of course.”
I looked between them.
“Why does everyone in this house know more about my mother than I do?”
Nobody answered.
I walked to the workbench and set the photograph down.
“Start talking.”
Vanessa took a breath.
“Your mother discovered that someone was using her business accounts to move money.”
“Who?”
“She didn't know at first.”
“But she suspected you.”
“Yes.”
The answer came too quickly.
I stared at her.
“You admit that?”
“She suspected everyone around her.”
Claire shook her head.
“She had proof.”
Vanessa looked at her.
“Be careful.”
“I'm done being careful.”
Claire pointed toward the folder in Vanessa's hand.
“That came from the study, didn't it?”
Vanessa's expression changed.
I looked at the folder.
“What is that?”
“Nothing.”
“Then open it.”
Vanessa held it against her side.
“No.”
I walked toward her.
“Open it.”
“Emma,” Dad said, “don't.”
I stopped.
“What?”
He looked at Vanessa.
“Give it to her.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“You can't be serious.”
“I am.”
She laughed softly.
“You want to destroy what's left of this family?”
I felt my heart pound.
“What is in the folder?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“Something your mother wrote.”
My breath caught.
“Give it to me.”
She hesitated.
Then dropped the folder onto the workbench.
I grabbed it.
Inside were photographs, bank statements, letters, and photocopies of old contracts.
I flipped through them.
Several pages had handwritten notes in Mom's familiar handwriting.
One line was underlined three times.
MONEY TRANSFERRED WITHOUT MY AUTHORIZATION.
Another page had a list of names.
My father's.
Vanessa's.
A man named Bennett.
And someone else.
The last name had been blacked out with thick black ink.
I looked at Dad.
“Why is your name here?”
“Because I helped her.”
“With what?”
“Accounting.”
I kept turning pages.
Then I found an envelope.
FOR DANIEL — ONLY IF I DON'T COME HOME.
I looked at him.
“You never opened this?”
Dad's face crumpled.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I couldn't.”
I held it out.
“Open it.”
He shook his head.
“Emma—”
“Open it.”
He didn't move.
Vanessa whispered, “Don't.”
I turned toward her.
“Why?”
“Because once you read it, there is no going back.”
“I'm already there.”
I tore open the envelope.
Inside was a folded sheet of paper and a key.
A small brass key.
I read the first line.
Daniel,
If you're reading this, then I was right not to trust the people closest to me.
I looked up.
Dad had tears in his eyes.
I kept reading.
Someone has been taking money from the company for more than two years.
I know who helped them.
My heart pounded.
I also know why they needed it.
I read the next sentence twice.
They weren't stealing from me.
My hands went cold.
“They weren't?”
Dad closed his eyes.
I continued.
They were paying someone to keep quiet about what happened the night Emma was born.
I stopped.
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?”
Claire covered her mouth.
Mia whispered, “What does that mean?”
I looked at Dad.
“What happened the night I was born?”
He didn't answer.
I looked back at the letter.
There was another paragraph.
There is one person who knows the truth.
I hid the proof where Daniel would never think to look.
Use the key.
Underneath was an address.
Not ours.
Not anywhere I recognized.
But the final line was handwritten larger than the others.
And Daniel—
Do not let Vanessa near the blue dress.
My eyes dropped to the ruined fabric still hanging over the back of the chair.
Vanessa saw it too.
Her expression changed.
She lunged for the dress.
I pulled it away.
Dad grabbed her arm.
“Don't.”
She fought him.
“Daniel, you don't understand!”
“You don't touch my daughter's things.”
“You're making a mistake!”
Claire shouted, “Daniel!”
He looked toward her.
“There's someone at the door.”
We all went silent.
A knock sounded.
Three slow knocks.
Nobody moved.
Then came another.
This time, harder.
Vanessa's face went white.
Mia whispered, “Who is that?”
Dad released Vanessa.
“Stay here.”
He walked toward the kitchen.
I followed.
“Dad, wait.”
He turned.
“You need to trust me.”
“I have been trusting you for seventeen years.”
He stopped.
“I know.”
The knocking came again.
Dad reached for the front door.
Before he opened it, a man's voice came from outside.
“Daniel Carter?”
Dad froze.
The voice continued.
“My name is Detective Bennett.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
There was a pause.
Then the man added:
“I need to speak to Emma about her mother's death.”
Dad slowly turned around.
His eyes met mine.
May you like
And I knew from his expression that whoever stood outside wasn't here to reopen the case.
He was here because someone had already told him I had found the evidence.
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