Chapter 6 - The Letter in the Wall
Dad stared at the carpet between his shoes.
“An occupancy affidavit. A family consent form. And a statement that Sophie had seen you promise the house back to us.”
“She never heard me promise that.”
“I know.”
“Did Mom know?”
He did not answer quickly enough.
I stood.
David’s hand touched my elbow, not to stop me, just to remind me where I was.
Dad reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone.
“I backed up some screenshots to an email Vanessa doesn’t know about.”
He showed Detective Morales a thread between Vanessa and Curt.
VANESSA: Claire is on shift until after 11.
CURT: Minor still coming?
VANESSA: Mom will handle her.
CURT: Need clean room. No surprise witnesses.
VANESSA: She’ll be gone before papers come out.
The words stayed bright on the screen.
No surprise witnesses.
Sophie had not been turned away because there was no room.
She had been removed.
The toast and half a banana were collateral damage.
Back home near dawn, I found Sophie awake on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders.
I sat beside her.
“I need to tell you something ugly.”
She listened while I explained the forged affidavit and the texts.
When I finished, she asked one question.
“So Grandma knew I was coming?”
“Yes.”
Her chin trembled once.
Then she looked down.
“That’s worse.”
“Yes.”
She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.
“I want to talk to the detective again.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
That afternoon, Morales interviewed her a second time.
Sophie described Curt, the folder, the question about her age, and Mom folding the paper in the foyer.
“Three times,” Sophie said. “She always does three when she’s pretending something is normal.”
Morales glanced at me.
I said nothing.
On the drive home, Sophie suddenly turned in her seat.
“My overnight bag.”
“What about it?”
“Grandpa touched it before I left.”
She had mentioned Grandpa staying in the living room but not this.
“He came outside while I was putting it back in the car. He said, ‘You forgot this,’ even though I hadn’t. Then Grandma called him from the doorway.”
We went straight to the bag.
The main compartment held pajamas, a toothbrush, two paperback novels, and a sweater Sophie had never worn.
Nothing.
David ran his fingers along the lining.
“There’s something stiff here.”
A small interior seam had been opened and closed with two pieces of clear tape.
Inside was a brass storage key.
A white label wrapped around the head.
317.
Beneath the key was a scrap of paper in Dad’s handwriting.
IF THINGS GO BAD, THIS MATTERS.
I called him.
He went quiet when I read the number.
“What is unit 317?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Dad.”
“I swear. I heard Vanessa and your mother arguing about it in October.”
“My mother?”
“They thought I was asleep. Vanessa said Curt wanted everything out of the house. Your mother said, ‘Use 317. It’s already in my name.’”
Sophie sat across from me, watching my face.
The brass key felt warm in my fist.
I had spent twenty-four hours thinking my mother was protecting Vanessa.
Now I had to consider something worse.
The storage unit full of whatever my father had been afraid to keep at home was not rented by my sister.
May you like
It was rented by my mother.
