Chapter 7: The Secret My Father Buried
For several seconds, I couldn't make myself look away from the photograph on my phone.
The wooden box was unmistakable.
So was my father's handwriting.
IF MARCUS EVER HAS TWO DAUGHTERS, DO NOT LET THEM MEET.
My father had been dead for eleven years.
He had been buried beneath a gray stone bearing his name, and I had stood beside that grave promising myself I would never become the kind of man he had been.
Now someone was telling me that he'd known about a secret involving two daughters before either of them had been old enough to understand what a family was.
And my eight-year-old daughter had apparently discovered it.
"Officer Brooks," I whispered, "I need to know where that box is.""
She studied the photograph.
"Do you recognize the location?""
"No. But I recognize the box. My father left it to me.""
"Where is it now?""
"In storage. Or it was the last time I checked.""
"Where?""
I gave her the name of the storage facility outside Atlanta.
She wrote it down, then called the investigators handling Lily's case. I could hear her explaining the photograph, the messages, and the note on the box.
Danielle sat on the sofa with Lily's framed photograph in her lap.
She hadn't spoken since reading my father's warning.
I approached her slowly.
"Danielle.""
She continued staring at Lily's smiling face.
"Did you know your father had left a box?"" she asked.
"Yes.""
"Did you ever open it?""
"No. It was locked.""
"Why didn't you have it opened?""
I sat in the chair opposite her.
"I thought it contained old family papers. After the funeral, I couldn't bring myself to sort through his things. I put the box away and told myself I'd deal with it later.""
"Later," she repeated.
The word sounded different in her mouth now.
I looked down.
"I know.""
"No, Marcus. I don't think you do.""
She lifted her eyes.
"Your daughter died waiting for you to answer your phone. Another daughter grew up without you because you never opened a letter. And now we're discovering that your father left something behind that might explain why our child was meeting a stranger.""
She held up the photograph of the two girls.
"How many times are we going to find out that someone in this family knew something important and chose not to tell the truth?""
I had no answer.
Officer Brooks ended her call and joined us.
"The investigators are arranging to examine the storage unit. We shouldn't go in and disturb anything ourselves.""
"How long will that take?"" I asked.
"As soon as they can get there. In the meantime, I want to understand your father's connection to Rebecca.""
I shook my head.
"He never met her. Not officially.""
"What does that mean?""
I rubbed my hands together.
"My father was the sort of man who knew everything about everyone. He kept records of bills, birthdays, business deals, even conversations he thought might become important. He didn't like surprises.""
"Would he have known Rebecca was pregnant?""
"I don't see how.""
"Would he have known about your relationship with her?""
"Probably. He disapproved of her.""
"Why?""
I remembered a conversation in my father's kitchen, years before Rebecca and I broke up.
He'd been sitting at the table with a newspaper spread in front of him. When I told him I was thinking about marrying Rebecca, he'd folded the paper neatly and looked at me over his glasses.
"That girl has a past, Marcus.""
"So do you, Dad.""
He hadn't liked that answer.
He'd told me Rebecca came from a complicated family, that her mother had struggled with addiction, and that people carried their parents' mistakes into their own relationships.
I'd accused him of being judgmental.
He'd responded by telling me that love was a poor substitute for good judgment.
At the time, I'd thought he was trying to control me.
Now I wondered what else he'd known.
"There was something else," I said.
Officer Brooks waited.
"My father once told me that some people shouldn't have children together.""
Danielle slowly turned toward me.
"When?""
"After Rebecca and I had our first serious argument. He said there were families that carried trouble from one generation to the next. He said I needed to think about the children before I made a permanent decision.""
"And you thought he was talking about Rebecca's family?""
"Yes.""
"Did you ask him what he meant?""
"No.""
Danielle gave a small, disbelieving shake of her head.
"You never asked.""
"I was twenty-nine. I thought he was trying to frighten me.""
"And now?""
I looked at the message again.
"Now I think he knew something he never told me.""
My phone rang.
Rebecca's name appeared on the screen.
I answered immediately.
"Have you found Emma?"" I asked.
"I'm with her," Rebecca replied.
Her voice sounded exhausted.
"She's safe. But she refuses to leave my side.""
"Can I talk to her?""
Rebecca hesitated.
"I'll ask.""
I heard muffled voices, then a small, uncertain voice.
"Hello?""
My throat tightened.
"Emma?""
"Yes.""
"I'm Marcus.""
"I know.""
There was no warmth in her voice. Only caution.
I deserved that.
"Your mother told me you knew Lily.""
A pause.
"She was my sister.""
The words nearly broke me.
"Yes," I whispered.
"She was.""
"Why didn't you tell her about me?""
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The question I had spent nine years avoiding, delivered by a little girl who had every right to ask it.
"I didn't know you existed for certain," I said.
"But I should have found out. I should have listened to your mother.""
"Mom says you knew she was pregnant.""
"She's right.""
"Then why didn't you want us?""
My mouth went dry.
I could have told her I was young. That I was scared. That I thought I was making a responsible decision.
But Emma was a child, and she had already lost her chance to meet her sister again.
She didn't need another excuse from me.
"Because I was selfish," I said.
"I was afraid of what being a father would mean, and I made a terrible choice. None of that was your fault.""
Emma was quiet.
Then she asked, "Did Lily know?""
"I think she did.""
"She said you didn't know how to be a dad.""
I pressed a hand against my mouth.
"She said that?""
"She told me she thought you would be different if you knew about me. She said you were good when you remembered to be there.""
The words cut deeper than anger.
Because they sounded exactly like the little girl I had raised.
Even when I disappointed Lily, she'd found ways to protect me from the truth.
"Emma," I whispered, "I'm sorry.""
"You keep saying that.""
I froze.
Rebecca must have heard her, because I heard a soft sound in the background.
Emma continued.
"Lily said people say sorry when they want you to stop being mad. She said sorry doesn't fix anything.""
I looked at Danielle.
She had begun crying again.
"Your sister was right," I told Emma.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me.""
"Good.""
Her answer was immediate.
Then she added, "I want to know what was in the box.""
My heart skipped.
"What did Lily tell you?""
"She said Grandpa Marcus left something for us. She said if we found it, we'd understand why everyone kept secrets.""
I gripped the phone.
"Did she tell you where she found out about it?""
"On a computer.""
"Whose computer?""
"I don't know. She said she'd show me on Friday.""
A pause followed.
Then Emma whispered, "She was scared when I last saw her.""
"Why?""
"Because a woman had been watching her.""
Vanessa.
The name rose into my mind, but I forced myself not to say it.
"What did the woman look like?""
"She had straight hair. She wore a light-colored outfit. Lily said she'd seen her with you.""
I looked at Danielle.
Vanessa's cream travel outfit.
Her straightened hair.
Emma's description matched the woman who had walked into our house with me that afternoon.
But a matching description wasn't proof that Vanessa had harmed Lily.
"Did Lily tell you the woman's name?"" I asked.
"No. But she said the woman was asking questions about Grandpa.""
Officer Brooks moved closer, listening carefully.
"Emma," I continued, "did you see the woman yourself?""
"No. I saw her car.""
"What kind of car?""
"I don't know. A dark one.""
"Did you see anyone else?""
Emma hesitated.
Then she said, "There was a man outside the community center. He was talking to Lily before I left.""
My stomach tightened.
"Can you describe him?""
"He was old. Not really old, but older than you. He had a gray beard, and he walked with a stick.""
I stopped breathing.
My father's younger brother, Raymond, had a gray beard and used a wooden walking stick after a serious accident several years earlier.
He was also the only person alive who had helped my father manage his private affairs.
"Emma," I said carefully, "did Lily tell you the man's name?""
"No.""
"Did you hear what he said?""
She took a shaky breath.
"He told Lily that if she opened the box, someone would get hurt.""
The room seemed to go silent around me.
"Did Lily answer him?""
"She said she wasn't scared of him.""
Emma's voice broke.
"Then he said, 'You should be scared of what your father did.''"
I closed my eyes.
My father's secrets had reached my daughter.
And someone had threatened her over them.
Officer Brooks gently took the phone from my hand long enough to ask Rebecca whether Emma would be willing to provide a formal statement when she was ready.
Rebecca agreed, but she insisted that Emma not be questioned alone.
When the call ended, I sat motionless.
Danielle walked over and placed Lily's photograph on the desk.
"Your uncle," she said.
I nodded.
"Raymond.""
"Could he have left that envelope?""
"I don't know.""
"Could he have been watching Lily?""
"I don't know.""
She looked at me.
"Then it's time you stopped guessing and started finding out.""
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
*RAYMOND IS NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS ABOUT THE BOX.*
Another followed.
*ASK HIM WHY YOUR FATHER CHANGED THE WILL THREE DAYS BEFORE HE DIED.*
I stared at the screen.
My father had died suddenly, leaving behind a modest estate and a will that named me his sole heir.
Raymond had told me that Dad wanted me to have everything because I was his only son.
I had never questioned it.
But now, after everything we'd discovered, that explanation felt suspiciously convenient.
Officer Brooks photographed the messages.
Then she looked at me.
"Mr. Reed, we need to establish whether your uncle had access to your father's records and whether he knew about this box.""
I nodded.
"I'll call him.""
"Not yet," she said.
"Let the investigators coordinate that contact.""
I put the phone down.
Outside, the afternoon sun had begun to fade.
Danielle stood at the window, looking toward the street where Vanessa had disappeared.
"Marcus?""
I turned.
"If your father knew about another daughter, and he tried to keep the girls apart, why?""
I looked at the photograph of the two children.
"I don't know.""
She shook her head.
"Someone in this family has been making decisions about which children deserve to exist, which parents deserve to know them, and which truths should stay buried.""
Her voice dropped.
"And our daughter paid the price.""
I lowered my head.
Then Officer Brooks's phone rang.
She listened for several seconds, asking brief questions and writing down the answers.
When she ended the call, she looked at us.
"The investigators have located the storage unit. The box is there.""
I stood immediately.
"Can we see it?""
"Not until they've documented the scene and established the proper chain of custody.""
"How long?""
"Mr. Reed, I understand that you want answers. But rushing this won't help.""
I sat back down.
For once, I listened.
Officer Brooks gathered her notes.
"There's one more thing. The investigators contacted your uncle's office. He hasn't been there since Friday.""
Danielle turned.
"Friday?""
"That's correct.""
I stared at her.
The same day Lily had fallen ill.
The same day the message had been sent.
The same day Emma said a man had warned Lily not to open the box.
I felt my stomach twist.
Then Officer Brooks added, "His car was found abandoned outside the old house your father sold years ago.""
My mouth went dry.
"Where?""
She gave me the address.
I recognized it immediately.
It was the house where my father had kept his private papers.
The house where I'd grown up.
The house where I had once found a locked room in the basement and been told never to enter it.
And suddenly, I remembered something my father had said to me when I was twelve.
Some doors stay locked because the truth behind them can hurt people who haven't done anything wrong.
I had believed he was talking about the family business.
May you like
Now I wondered whether he had been talking about his children.
And whether Lily had opened a door that someone had spent decades trying to keep shut.