Chapter 8 - SARAH’S BOX
We returned home under police escort.
Emily was at a neighbor’s house.
I didn’t let her come inside.
Her room looked untouched.
Except for a wooden box sitting in the middle of her bed.
I recognized it immediately.
Sarah’s memory box.
It had been stored in a bank safe-deposit box since her death.
“How did they get this?” I whispered.
Mark stared.
The lock was broken.
Inside were photographs.
Letters.
Sarah’s hospital bracelet.
A little pink sock from the day Emily was born.
Then I saw an envelope.
My name was written on it.
Sarah’s handwriting.
My legs nearly gave out.
I had never seen it before.
I opened it.
The letter was short.
Daniel, if you’re reading this, something went wrong.
My heart stopped.
I kept reading.
Sarah wrote that three months before her death, she discovered her father had made risky investments with family money.
She had confronted Robert.
He promised to stop.
She didn’t believe him.
So she changed the trust.
There was a private addendum.
One Robert didn’t know existed.
If any trustee attempted to remove Emily from her primary guardian for financial benefit, control of the entire trust transferred automatically.
To who?
I turned the page.
My sister.
Claire.
I stared at the name.
Claire and I had barely spoken in two years.
Rebecca hated her.
Said she was intrusive.
Dramatic.
Jealous.
I had believed Rebecca.
Another mistake.
The front door opened.
Claire walked in with Detective Hall.
She looked at me.
Then at the letter.
Her face crumpled.
“You found it.”
“You knew?”
She nodded.
“Sarah told me.”
My anger rose.
“And you never told me?”
“She made me promise not to unless someone tried to touch the trust.”
“Rebecca has been touching it for months.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew she hated you.”
“I knew she was trying to isolate you.”
I stared at her.
Claire stepped closer.
“She pushed me out, Daniel.”
“You called her a gold digger at Christmas.”
“Because I saw her searching through Sarah’s desk.”
I went still.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
Two years.
Right after Rebecca moved in.
“I told you.”
I remembered.
I also remembered Rebecca crying.
Saying Claire had never accepted her.
Saying my family wanted me to stay miserable forever.
And I chose Rebecca.
Claire’s eyes filled.
“I stopped fighting because every time I tried, you defended her.”
I had no response.
The silence between us hurt more than yelling would have.
Detective Hall interrupted.
“There’s something strange about the break-in.”
“What?”
“No forced entry.”
I looked toward the hallway.
Rebecca still had a key.
“So she came in.”
“Maybe.”
Hall held up a plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a security access card.
Hawthorne Behavioral Center.
It had been left beside the box.
“Why would Rebecca leave that?”
Claire shook her head.
“She wouldn’t.”
I looked at the memory box again.
The letter.
The access card.
Someone wanted me to find both.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Robert’s voice whispered:
“Did you find Sarah’s letter?”
“Did you break into my house?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
He breathed hard.
“Diane.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s turning on Rebecca.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Everybody is turning on everybody.”
“Daniel, listen.”
“What?”
“Rebecca isn’t at the hotel.”
My blood chilled.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
A pause.
Then Robert said:
“But Diane found plane tickets.”
“To where?”
“Canada.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“For Rebecca?”
“No.”
I gripped the phone.
“Who?”
May you like
Robert whispered:
“Rebecca and Emily.”
