Daniel arrived at the hospital forty-two minutes later carrying a weathered cedar box against his chest.
Mara's sister, Lena, followed him through the door with rainwater darkening the shoulders of her jacket. She gave Mara a worried glance, then quietly took the visitor chair nearest the wall. Daniel placed the box on the rolling table without greeting his father.
Robert stared at it.
The cedar had aged almost black around the corners. A brass latch hung open at the front. Across the lid, in faded marker, Thomas had written Daniel's full name.
Daniel Robert Ellison.
Beneath it, smaller:
Open only when you have a son.
Mara looked at Robert.
"Rebecca mailed this?"
He nodded.
Daniel's jaw tightened.
"You knew that?"
"Yes."
"For two years?"
"Yes."
"And she knew Thomas?"
"Yes."
Daniel pressed both palms against the rolling table.
"How?"
Robert's shoulders sank.
"After Patricia became ill, Rebecca started asking questions."
"About Mom?"
"About the past."
"Why?"
Robert hesitated.
Daniel slammed one hand against the table.
The baby startled in Mara's arms.
Daniel immediately stepped back.
"Sorry."
Mara waited until their son settled.
Then she said quietly, "No more half-answers."
Robert nodded.
"Rebecca found one of Thomas's letters in Patricia's desk."
Daniel frowned.
"When?"
"Three years ago."
"Before Mom got sick?"
"Just before the diagnosis."
"What letter?"
Robert looked toward the box.
"An apology."
"From Thomas?"
"Yes."
"For what?"
"It wasn't clear."
Daniel's voice sharpened.
"Nothing in this family is ever clear."
Robert continued.
"The letter mentioned Elliot. It mentioned the accident. It asked Patricia to meet him."
"Did she?"
"I don't know."
"Did Rebecca?"
"Eventually."
Daniel stared.
"My sister secretly met Thomas."
"Several times."
Mara asked, "Why?"
Robert looked at her.
"Because Rebecca wanted to know why her mother had hidden the letter."
"Did Rebecca tell you what Thomas said?"
"Very little."
Daniel laughed bitterly.
"Apparently secrecy is hereditary."
Robert looked hurt.
Daniel ignored it.
"When did you learn they were meeting?"
"After Thomas died."
"What happened?"
"Rebecca called me."
"From where?"
"His house."
Daniel's expression changed.
"She was there?"
"When he died."
"How?"
Robert rubbed his hands together.
"Thomas had cancer. Liver. It progressed quickly. Rebecca visited him during his last week."
"Why?"
"She said he had something she needed to hear."
Daniel looked at the box.
"About Elliot."
"I assume."
"You assume?"
"Rebecca refused to discuss details."
Mara watched Daniel carefully.
The discovery about Evelyn had not yet settled in him; it hovered behind everything he said. Now his sister had become another unknown part of the story.
"Where is Rebecca?" Mara asked.
Robert looked uncomfortable.
"Chicago."
Daniel shook his head.
"No."
Robert frowned.
"She moved there six months ago."
"No, she didn't."
Everyone looked at Daniel.
"What?" Mara asked.
Daniel pulled out his phone.
"I talked to her last week. She said she was in Chicago."
"She is," Robert said.
Daniel tapped his screen.
"Then explain this."
He held out the phone.
A photograph filled the display. Rebecca stood beside a white stone fountain wearing sunglasses and holding a coffee cup. Daniel zoomed in on the background.
A hospital sign was visible.
St. Matthew's Medical Center.
Mara recognized it immediately.
It was less than four miles from where they were sitting.
"When did she send that?" Mara asked.
"Tuesday."
Robert stared at the screen.
"She told me that was Chicago."
Daniel looked at him.
"Apparently she lies better than either of us realized."
Mara asked, "Why would she be here?"
No one answered.
Then Lena spoke for the first time.
"I saw her."
Everyone turned.
Mara frowned.
"When?"
"This morning."
Daniel stared at her.
"Where?"
Lena looked toward Mara.
"Hospital parking garage."
Mara's skin prickled.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought I was mistaken. I've only met Rebecca a few times."
"What time?"
"Around seven-thirty. Before they let me upstairs."
Daniel stepped toward her.
"Was she alone?"
Lena shook her head.
"No."
"Who was with her?"
"A woman."
Mara immediately thought of Evelyn.
"Dark coat? Brown-gray hair?"
"No. Younger. Maybe Rebecca's age."
Daniel frowned.
"Did you recognize her?"
"No."
"Did they see you?"
"I don't think so."
Mara looked at Robert.
"Could Rebecca have been the person who moved the box?"
Daniel shook his head.
"She doesn't have a key."
Robert said nothing.
Daniel saw it.
"Does she?"
Robert looked down.
"Patricia gave her one."
"To my house?"
"Years ago. Emergency spare."
Daniel stared at him.
"Mom had a key to my house?"
"You gave her one when you and Mara went to Portugal."
"I changed the locks."
"She copied it after you changed them."
Mara's anger flared.
"Why?"
Robert looked embarrassed.
"Patricia worried."
"About what?"
"Everything."
Daniel muttered something under his breath.
Mara looked at the box.
"Was anything else disturbed?"
"No."
"The envelope alone was removed."
"Yes."
"So whoever took it knew exactly what they wanted."
Daniel nodded.
Robert stepped toward the table.
"We should close this."
"No," Daniel said.
Robert stopped.
Daniel looked at Mara.
"You said photograph everything."
She nodded.
Daniel began removing items carefully.
The first was a stack of old photographs tied with twine. The top image showed three young men beside a partially renovated house. Mara recognized Robert immediately, twenty years younger and thinner. Thomas stood beside him, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, one hand resting on a teenage boy's shoulder.
Elliot.
The resemblance to Evelyn was obvious.
Daniel stared at the photograph.
"I don't remember ever seeing his face."
Robert whispered, "You did when you were little."
"When?"
"Patricia removed the photos after the funeral."
Daniel placed it on the table.
Next came photocopies of invoices, bank statements, insurance forms, and handwritten notes.
Then the cassette tape.
Its label contained one date.
October 18.
Seventeen years earlier.
The night Elliot died.
Daniel held it between two fingers.
Robert's breathing changed.
"What?"
Robert looked at the cassette.
"I didn't know that existed."
Mara said, "A recording?"
"Maybe."
Daniel placed it beside the documents.
The key came next.
Small, silver, with a stamped number: 317.
Lena leaned forward.
"Safe-deposit box?"
Robert shook his head.
"Storage locker."
"How do you know?" Daniel asked.
"Thomas used a facility with numbered keys."
"Where?"
"East Harbor Storage."
Daniel looked toward Mara.
She already knew what he was thinking.
"Not tonight," she said.
He nodded reluctantly.
The final item was a folded letter addressed simply:
Daniel.
He stared at it.
Mara said, "That's yours."
Daniel picked it up.
His hands shook slightly.
Robert moved toward the door.
"I should leave."
Daniel looked up.
"No."
"Daniel—"
"No one leaves."
Robert stopped.
Daniel opened the letter.
He read silently at first.
Mara watched his face.
Then he lowered the paper.
"What?"
Daniel swallowed.
"It's from Thomas."
"What does it say?"
He looked at Robert.
"My whole life, I believed Robert destroyed Elliot because he was afraid of prison."
Robert stared.
Daniel continued reading.
"I was wrong about one thing. Robert was afraid, but he wasn't the only person with something to lose."
Robert sat heavily.
Daniel read on.
"The night Elliot died, three people knew he had copied the business records. Robert. Patricia. And me."
Mara felt Lena shift beside her.
Daniel continued.
"One of us damaged the car before Elliot left. One of us followed him because we wanted the evidence. One of us found him alive."
Robert closed his eyes.
"And one of us lied about what Elliot said before he died."
Daniel stopped.
Mara looked at Robert.
"Who lied?"
Daniel turned the page.
"Thomas says he didn't know for years."
"Then what changed?" Mara asked.
Daniel continued reading.
"Patricia contacted me fourteen months before she died. She told me Robert had lied about Elliot's last words."
Robert's head snapped up.
"No."
Daniel stared at him.
"You said Elliot told you, 'Don't let him take it.'"
"He did."
"Thomas says Mom told him Elliot said a name."
Robert stood.
"She's dead. Thomas is dead. Anyone can write anything."
Daniel's eyes narrowed.
"You sound frightened."
"I am frightened. You're treating a dying man's obsession as evidence."
Daniel returned to the letter.
"Thomas says Patricia told him Elliot's exact words were, 'Tell Rebecca I'm sorry.'"
The room went silent.
Daniel looked up.
"Rebecca was twelve."
Robert stared toward the floor.
Mara frowned.
"Why would an eighteen-year-old boy, dying after a crash, apologize to a twelve-year-old?"
Robert said nothing.
Daniel's voice hardened.
"Dad."
No answer.
"Dad."
Robert looked up.
"I don't know."
Mara watched him.
She didn't believe him.
Neither did Daniel.
He kept reading.
"If you're holding this letter, then your son has been born. I don't know his name. I asked you to wait because names matter in this family. They have been used to hide relationships, rewrite loyalties, and decide who belongs."
Daniel stopped again.
His eyes flicked toward the baby.
Mara felt something tighten inside her.
Thomas's words continued.
"Before you give your son a family name, learn what your family did with mine."
Robert's face collapsed.
Daniel read the next sentence and froze.
Mara saw his lips move without sound.
"What?"
He did not answer.
"Daniel."
He lowered the page.
"Thomas says Elliot wasn't apologizing to Rebecca because of anything he had done."
"Then why?"
Daniel looked at Robert.
"Because Rebecca was in the car."
Robert stood so fast the chair struck the wall.
"No."
Daniel stared at him.
"She was twelve years old."
"No."
"Thomas says she was hiding in the back seat when Elliot drove away."
Robert shook his head violently.
"Impossible."
"Why?"
"Because Rebecca was upstairs with Daniel."
Daniel turned toward Robert.
"I remember Mom taking her upstairs."
"Exactly."
"But do you remember her staying there?"
Robert stopped.
No one spoke.
Daniel's eyes widened slightly.
"I remember something else."
Mara watched him.
"What?"
"After the crash."
He pressed his fingers against his temple.
"There were people downstairs. Mom was crying."
Robert said, "Daniel—"
"And Rebecca wasn't in her room."
Robert went pale.
Daniel looked at his father.
"I asked where she was."
Mara could see memory returning in fragments.
"What did Patricia say?"
Daniel's voice became distant.
"She said Rebecca was sleeping at a friend's house."
Robert sat down again.
Daniel stared at him.
"Was she?"
Robert's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Daniel looked back at Thomas's letter.
There were only two lines remaining.
He read them aloud.
"If you want to know who cut the brake line, find Rebecca before she finds my envelope."
Everyone looked toward the cedar box.
The space where the envelope had been seemed suddenly enormous.
Then Lena's phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
Her expression changed.
"Mara."
"What?"
"It's from your doorbell camera."
Daniel stepped toward her.
Lena turned the phone around.
A recorded image showed the front porch of Mara and Daniel's house less than fifteen minutes after they had left.
A woman stood at the door.
Rebecca.
She held a large white envelope in one hand.
In the other was a lighter.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: Rebecca Finally Returned With the Missing Envelope, but Her Explanation of Elliot’s Last Drive Made Daniel Doubt Every Adult Who Raised Him
I Woke After the Delivery to Discover My Husband Had Made One Permanent Decision While I Was Still Unconscious
Part 6 of 20
