Chapter 17 - The House on Alder Street
The house on Alder Street had been empty for nine years.
Jake inherited it after Andrew’s death, but Lorraine refused to sell it. She claimed the property contained too many memories.
Now Jake wondered whether memories were the reason she kept everyone away.
The bank had taken possession after Lorraine stopped paying taxes during her incarceration. Detective Bennett arranged access before the property went to auction.
Dust covered the furniture. Water stains spread across the ceiling. Jake’s childhood bedroom still contained faded military posters and a wooden desk Andrew had built for him.
Lorraine had entered every room after Andrew’s death.
Except one.
Andrew’s basement workshop had been secured with an industrial lock. Lorraine told Jake she lost the key.
Bennett had the lock legally removed.
Inside, they found woodworking tools, old tax records, and shelves filled with labeled boxes.
Nothing referred to Leah.
Megan noticed that the workbench was shorter than the wall behind it.
Jake moved it aside.
A narrow steel panel had been installed between two wall supports.
Inside was a weatherproof case.
The case contained a cassette recorder, three letters addressed to Leah Sullivan, and a photograph of a ten-year-old girl standing beside a woman with red hair.
The girl wore a silver locket.
On the back, Andrew had written:
Leah Mercer.
Found September 14.
Contact interrupted by M.V.
Do not tell Lorraine until I bring Leah home safely.
Jake read the sentence twice.
His father had not hidden the truth because he distrusted Lorraine.
He had hidden it because he believed telling her would place Leah in danger.
Megan opened the first letter.
Andrew described Jake as a curious child who took apart radios and could never pretend to be asleep when his parents entered the room.
The second letter apologized for failing to find Leah sooner.
The third was unfinished.
If you receive this, Martin knows I found you. Do not return to Chicago. Do not trust anyone carrying the name—
The sentence ended there.
Then the cassette recorder clicked on by itself.
A man’s voice filled the basement.
May you like
It was Andrew Sullivan.
“If Jake is hearing this,” the recording began, “then Martin has already lied about how I died.”
