Chapter 7 - SOMEONE WAS INSIDE
The hospital went into lockdown.
Police checked every stairwell.
Every exit.
Every visitor badge.
They found nothing.
No Travis.
No gray SUV.
No weapon.
No explanation for how he had gotten close enough to photograph Lily.
Claire refused to leave her daughter’s room.
Daniel refused too.
Two officers stood outside the door.
At midnight, Lily finally slept.
Claire sat beside her bed.
Daniel stood near the window with the blinds closed.
“You should go home,” Claire said.
He turned.
“You want me to leave?”
“I want clothes for Lily. Her stuffed rabbit. My charger.”
“I’ll ask an officer.”
“No. I need space.”
Daniel stared at her.
“Claire, this is not the time.”
“This is exactly the time.”
“You think I should leave you here after that message?”
“There are cops everywhere.”
“And Travis got close enough to take a picture.”
Claire looked at him.
“Then what are you going to do? Stand here forever?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
She lowered her voice.
“I can’t think when you’re around me.”
That hurt him.
She saw it.
Again, she didn’t care.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said.
He left with an officer.
Forty minutes later, Claire’s phone rang.
Daniel.
She answered.
“What?”
His breathing sounded wrong.
“Claire.”
Her body tensed.
“What happened?”
“The back door was open.”
“Our house?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t go inside.”
“I already did.”
“Daniel!”
“The officer’s with me.”
Claire stood.
“What’s missing?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you whispering?”
Daniel didn’t answer immediately.
“Because somebody was here.”
“How do you know?”
“Our bedroom.”
Claire waited.
“What about it?”
“There are pictures on the bed.”
“What pictures?”
“Of us.”
She closed her eyes.
“Family photos?”
“No.”
Daniel sounded sick.
“Pictures taken from outside the house.”
Claire’s stomach dropped.
Breakfast through the kitchen window.
Lily on the swing.
Claire getting mail.
Daniel mowing the lawn.
Weeks of photographs.
Maybe months.
And in the middle of the bed sat a yellow envelope.
Daniel opened it while the officer photographed everything.
Inside was a birth certificate.
RYAN MICHAEL COLE.
Father:
Blank.
And another photograph.
Daniel and Megan.
Young.
Standing outside a motel.
Kissing.
On the back someone had written:
YOU BUILT YOUR HAPPINESS ON HER SILENCE.
Claire heard Daniel breathing.
Then he said, “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“A key.”
“To what?”
“I don’t know.”
The police officer found a number stamped into it.
A motel key.
Detective Ramirez ran the number against motels near Megan’s home and near the Bennett residence.
One match came back.
Blue Horizon Motor Lodge.
Room 312.
The same motel with the blue sign Ryan remembered.
Within an hour, police surrounded the building.
Room 312 was empty.
But the bathroom sink was still wet.
There were takeout boxes on the table.
A child’s blanket lay on one bed.
Travis had been there recently.
On the wall above the second bed, police found dozens of photographs.
Daniel.
Claire.
Lily.
Ryan.
Megan.
And one photograph circled in red.
Megan standing beside her car on the day she died.
Across the bottom, someone had written:
May you like
SHE SHOULD HAVE LISTENED.
Then Ramirez found the laptop.
