Chapter 5: The Locked Box
I called the number back.
Nothing.
Again.
Disconnected.
The police traced it.
A prepaid phone.
Activated that morning.
Used once.
Then destroyed.
The officer asked me to sit down.
I couldn't.
“How do we find her?””
“We're working on it.””
“That's not enough.””
“I understand.””
“No, you don't.””
I looked at him.
“My daughter is five years old.””
He nodded slowly.
“I know.””
“She called me.””
“We heard.””
“She said not to trust her father.””
The officer glanced at Mark.
“What exactly happened between you and your wife before tonight?””
Mark looked exhausted.
“Nothing.””
I laughed.
“Nothing?””
He rubbed his face.
“I didn't kidnap Lily.””
“I didn't say you did.””
“But you think I know who did.””
“Do you?””
“No.””
“Then open the box.””
Mark stared at me.
The small metal box sat on the coffee table.
One of the officers had found it beneath Lily's bed.
Mark had refused to touch it.
Now everyone was looking at him.
“Open it,” I said again.
“I don't have the key.””
Zoe reached into her pocket.
“I do.””
Mark's head snapped toward her.
“What?””
“I found it with the files.””
She placed a tiny key on the table.
“You left it in Mom's storage room.””
Mark stared at it.
“You went through my things.””
“I went through things you were using to hide the truth.””
The officer picked up the box.
“Mr. Hale?””
Mark closed his eyes.
“Open it.””
The lock clicked.
The lid lifted.
Inside were photographs.
Dozens.
I reached for the top one.
It was Lily.
She was asleep.
In her own bed.
I looked at the date.
Two years ago.
Another photograph.
Lily in the backyard.
Another.
Lily at preschool.
Another.
Lily sitting in the kitchen eating cereal.
My hands started trembling.
“These were taken without my knowledge.””
Mark said nothing.
“Who took them?””
“I did.””
I looked at him.
“You photographed our daughter while she slept?””
“I was keeping records.””
“Of what?””
He didn't answer.
I pulled out another photograph.
This one showed Megan standing beside Lily.
On the back was written:
*March 14. Basement. 6:32 p.m.*
Another:
*June 8. Basement. 7:04 p.m.*
Another:
*September 21. Basement. 5:17 p.m.*
Three dates.
Three times.
Three warnings.
I looked at Mark.
“You said twice.””
His face collapsed.
“I forgot.””
“You forgot?””
“I didn't.””
“Then you lied.””
He stared at me.
“Yes.””
Zoe took the photograph from my hand.
“There's something written on the back.””
She turned it over.
Five words.
*Third time will be different.*
The officer leaned closer.
“What does that mean?””
Mark whispered, “I don't know.””
I stood.
“You knew.””
“I suspected.””
“You knew!””
“I suspected!””
“You kept photographs instead of protecting her!””
“I was trying to protect her!””
“By doing what?””
Mark's voice broke.
“By gathering proof.””
“Proof?””
He pointed at the box.
“I knew nobody would believe me.””
“You could have called the police.””
“My father would have destroyed me.””
“Your father is dead!””
Mark looked at me.
“He died after I confronted him.””
The room fell silent.
“What did you confront him about?””
Mark stared at the floor.
“The basement.””
Zoe's eyes widened.
“What did you find?””
Mark didn't answer.
“Mark,” I said quietly.
He looked at me.
“My father had cameras.””
My stomach dropped.
“In the basement?””
“Everywhere.””
“Why?””
“I don't know.””
“You do.””
He swallowed.
“He liked knowing what everyone was doing.””
I felt sick.
“Who else knew?””
“My mother.””
“Megan?””
“Yes.””
“And you?””
“I found out after Lily was born.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I destroyed them.””
“Every camera?””
“I thought so.””
Zoe looked at the photographs.
“Apparently not.””
The officer picked up the box.
“Is there anything else?””
Mark shook his head.
I reached deeper.
My fingers touched an envelope.
It was sealed.
My name was written on it.
*CHLOE.*
My heart pounded.
I opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
The handwriting was not Mark's.
It was old-fashioned.
Careful.
Almost elegant.
I read the first sentence.
If you're reading this, Mark failed.
I stopped breathing.
“Who wrote that?””
Mark's face went white.
He took one step backward.
“That's my father's handwriting.””
I looked at the page.
Your husband will tell you he was protecting Lily.
He wasn't.
My hands shook.
The officer said, “Keep reading.””
I did.
He was protecting himself.
Then:
The first time Lily entered the basement, she saw something she wasn't supposed to see.
The second time, she remembered.
The third time, she told someone.
I looked toward Mark.
“What did she see?””
He whispered, “I don't know.””
I continued.
The money was never the secret.
I frowned.
The secret was who the money belonged to.
Then the final line:
Ask Megan why your daughter knows the name Eleanor.
I stared at the paper.
“Who is Eleanor?””
Mark didn't answer.
Zoe did.
Her voice was barely audible.
“Your husband's mother.””
I looked at Mark.
“Why would Lily know her name?””
He stared at me.
“I don't know.””
“You're lying again.””
“I swear.””
The officer's radio crackled.
He stepped away to answer it.
Then he turned around.
“We found the car.””
My heart jumped.
“Where?””
“Three miles from here.””
“Is Lily inside?””
The officer hesitated.
“No.””
My hope vanished.
“But we found something.””
“What?””
“A stuffed rabbit.””
I covered my mouth.
“Bunny?””
He nodded.
“It's in the back seat.””
I grabbed my coat.
“Take me there.””
The officer stopped me.
“You can't.””
“That's my daughter's rabbit.””
“We need to process the vehicle first.””
“Please.””
“I understand.””
He looked at Mark.
“Mr. Hale, the vehicle is registered to you.””
Mark's face went blank.
“What?””
“The car.””
He shook his head.
“I don't own that car.””
The officer showed him a photograph.
Mark stared.
Then whispered:
“Yes, you do.””
Mark looked at me.
“I've never seen it before.””
Zoe stepped closer.
“Chloe.””
“What?””
She pointed at the license plate.
I recognized it.
It belonged to a car I'd seen parked outside my in-laws' house.
A car that had always been driven by one person.
Megan.
The officer's radio crackled again.
“Sir?””
He listened.
Then his expression changed.
“Say that again.””
Everyone went silent.
He looked at us.
“We found surveillance footage from a gas station.””
“Of Lily?””
“Yes.””
I stepped forward.
“What does it show?””
He swallowed.
“It shows Megan buying gas.””
My heart pounded.
“Where was Lily?””
“In the car.””
I almost collapsed.
“Then she's alive.””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“Twenty-two minutes ago.””
I grabbed his arm.
“Where did she go?””
He looked at the screen.
“North.””
“How far?””
“Not far.””
“Then let's go.””
The officer nodded.
But before he could move, Zoe suddenly whispered:
“Wait.””
Everyone turned.
She was staring at the photograph.
“Megan wasn't alone.””
I looked at the screen.
In the driver's seat was Megan.
In the passenger seat was a man.
His face was turned toward the window.
But I recognized the jacket.
The silver watch.
And the initials tattooed on his wrist.
M.H.
Mark stepped backward.
“No.””
I stared at him.
“Who is that?””
He didn't answer.
The officer zoomed in.
The man's face finally came into view.
It was not Mark.
But Mark knew him.
May you like
Because when he saw the photograph, he whispered a name I had never heard before.
“Michael.””
