Chapter 8 - The Package Victoria Could Not Destroy)
Police searched Victoria's apartment that afternoon.
The package was gone.
The envelope remained.
It had been burned inside the kitchen fireplace.
Fragments of Nora's name survived along one edge.
Victoria's attorney called the search harassment.
Detective Hale called it evidence.
Ethan called it confirmation.
Travis Kern was found at sunset.
He was sitting inside a motel room forty miles outside the city with a packed suitcase, eleven thousand dollars in cash and a ticket for a flight departing the following morning.
He initially said nothing.
Then detectives showed him traffic footage from Nora's crash.
A dark SUV had followed Nora for eleven minutes before the collision.
The SUV belonged to a security company connected to Travis.
He changed his story.
The crash had been an accident.
He only wanted to scare Nora.
Victoria paid him to retrieve a package and convince Nora to stop interfering.
He claimed Victoria never ordered violence.
Detective Hale asked him what "handle it" meant.
Travis asked for a lawyer.
The investigation widened.
Meanwhile Ethan faced a different problem.
Clara would not let him out of her sight.
If Ethan crossed the room, she followed.
If he entered the bathroom, she sat outside the door.
When his phone rang, she cried.
At bedtime she refused to sleep unless one hand touched his sleeve.
Ethan cancelled everything.
Board meetings.
Investor calls.
A dinner with the governor.
His chief operating officer asked how long he would remain unavailable.
"As long as necessary."
"Ethan, the Singapore deal closes Friday."
"Then close it."
"They expect you."
"My daughter expects me."
The conversation ended.
For three days, Ethan lived at Clara's pace.
Breakfast.
Blocks.
Books.
Doctor visits.
Nora's recommended trauma specialist.
Slow walks around the house.
Clara refused to go near the backyard.
Ethan did not make her.
On the fourth afternoon, she asked a question while coloring.
"Are you mad at me?"
Ethan put down his coffee.
"No."
"Victoria said you were."
"Victoria lied."
Clara colored harder.
"She said you said I was bad."
"I never said that."
"She said you don't like crying."
Ethan moved from the chair to the floor.
"Clara."
She kept coloring.
"It's okay to cry."
"Even loud?"
"Even loud."
"Even at dinner?"
"Even at dinner."
Clara finally looked at him.
"Even when people are here?"
His heart broke.
"Especially when you need me."
She stared for several seconds.
Then whispered, "Victoria said rich girls don't cry."
Ethan almost smiled because the sentence was absurd.
Instead he said, "Victoria was wrong."
"She said Mommy would be sad."
Ethan's breath caught.
"Why?"
"Because I'm a baby."
He reached for Clara, then stopped.
Nora had told him to let Clara control physical affection.
"Can I hug you?"
Clara nodded.
Ethan pulled her gently into his arms.
"Mommy loved you when you cried. Mommy loved you when you laughed. Mommy loved you when you made messes. Mommy loved you every second."
"How do you know?"
"Because she told me."
"When?"
"All the time."
Clara leaned against him.
"Did she leave because of me?"
Ethan closed his eyes.
"No."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
That night Ethan entered Rebecca's old closet for the first time in months.
Boxes remained exactly where he had placed them.
Letters.
Photographs.
Clothes he could not yet give away.
At the back sat a white wooden box.
Rebecca had recorded videos for Clara during the final weeks of her life.
Birthday messages.
Stories.
Advice for a child she knew she would not live to raise.
Ethan had intended to show them when Clara was older.
Now he wondered whether one could help.
He selected the shortest recording.
Rebecca appeared on the screen.
Thin.
Tired.
Smiling.
Hello, my sweet Clara.
Ethan watched alone first.
Rebecca talked about bedtime.
About Clara throwing peas.
About the way she laughed when bubbles popped against her nose.
Then Rebecca said something Ethan had forgotten.
There will be days when you cry and days when you are angry and days when you make mistakes. None of those things can make me love you less.
Ethan covered his mouth.
The next morning, he showed Clara.
She watched without moving.
When Rebecca finished, Clara touched the screen.
"Mommy knows I cry?"
"Yes."
"And she loves me?"
"Always."
Clara watched the video again.
Then again.
For the first time since the cage, she fell asleep without gripping Ethan's sleeve.
That afternoon Detective Hale called.
"We recovered part of Nora's missing drive."
"From Victoria?"
"No."
"Then where?"
"Travis."
Ethan stood.
"What's on it?"
"Something you need to see."
The footage did not show the cage.
It showed the day before.
Victoria was talking on the phone while Clara sat beneath the kitchen table.
The camera recorded Victoria saying one sentence.
After the wedding, I won't have to pretend anymore.
Then another voice answered through the speaker.
A woman's voice.
Older.
Distinctive.
May you like
And Ethan recognized it immediately.
Victoria was not working alone.
