Chapter 11 - Behind the Painted Moon)
Claire had painted the nursery herself.
A pale sky covered one wall.
Stars.
Clouds.
A crescent moon above Maisie's crib.
Ethan had complained that hiring an artist would have been easier.
Claire had responded by flicking blue paint onto his shirt.
After she died, Ethan could barely enter the nursery without remembering her standing barefoot on a ladder, laughing.
Now Marcus scanned the wall.
Nothing.
He tapped sections.
Solid drywall.
Rachel examined the painted moon.
"Claire loved hiding things."
Ethan smiled faintly.
"She loved making me search for birthday gifts."
"Remember the watch?"
"Freezer."
Rachel almost laughed.
Then her expression changed.
"The watch."
Ethan looked at her.
"What?"
"Claire didn't hide things randomly. She left clues."
They examined the mural.
The moon.
Stars.
Clouds.
A tiny painted rabbit in the corner.
Beneath it stood a tiny bicycle.
Ethan's pulse accelerated.
The rabbit had contained the memory card.
The bicycle had contained the bank key.
He traced the painted bicycle.
Beside it was a tiny number almost invisible in the brushwork.
417.
They already knew 417.
Then Rachel pointed at the moon.
A second number.
23.
Marcus measured twenty-three inches from the lower edge of the mural.
He tapped.
Hollow.
They cut a small rectangle.
Inside the wall was a waterproof tube.
Ethan removed it.
A notebook slid out.
Claire's handwriting.
The second ledger.
But it was not financial.
It contained names.
Dates.
Meetings.
License plates.
Copies of messages.
Daniel Mercer appeared throughout.
So did Paul Renner.
And several people Ethan did not recognize.
Judges.
Bank executives.
Corporate attorneys.
One name appeared more frequently than all the others.
Arthur Vale.
Marcus frowned.
"Relative of Corinne?"
Ethan shook his head.
"Her father was Martin."
They searched.
Arthur Vale officially died twenty-four years earlier.
Three years before the theft blamed on Martin.
But Claire had written a note beside the name.
Arthur Vale did not die in 2002.
Daniel knows.
Rachel looked at Ethan.
"Who's Arthur?"
"I don't know."
Marcus turned pages.
Near the back, Claire had written:
Daniel is frightened of A.V.
Not loyal.
Frightened.
If A.V. is alive, then Rebecca's entire family history is false.
Ethan felt suddenly uneasy.
Corinne had believed one lie for thirty years.
What if there were more?
The final page contained a handwritten map.
A storage facility outside New Haven.
Unit 306.
Ethan called police.
Detectives obtained a warrant within hours.
The unit contained boxes of records.
Old photographs.
Computer drives.
A locked metal case.
And a dark coat.
Claire's.
Ethan recognized it immediately.
She had worn it the week before she died.
He touched the sleeve.
Something inside the pocket crackled.
A receipt.
Gas station.
Timestamped thirty minutes before the crash.
On the back Claire had written a license plate.
Marcus checked it.
Registered at the time to Daniel Mercer.
That placed Daniel near Claire's route shortly before her death.
Not murder proof.
But close.
Inside the metal case, investigators found another item.
A small audio recorder.
Its final recording was damaged.
Technicians recovered eleven seconds.
Claire's voice.
"You followed me."
Then Daniel.
"Give me the ledger."
Claire again.
"If Ethan knew what you really are"
Static.
Then another voice.
A third person.
Male.
Calm.
"Daniel, that's enough."
The recording ended.
Ethan replayed it.
The third voice was not familiar.
Marcus listened twice.
"Daniel wasn't alone."
Rachel looked at Claire's notebook.
"A.V.?"
"Maybe."
Forensic work would take time.
But Daniel did not give them time.
At 8:03 that evening, Ethan received a message from an unknown number.
A photograph.
Rachel's apartment building.
Taken from across the street.
Then another photograph.
Maisie visible through a window in Ethan's arms.
Then a message.
You found the wall.
Ethan immediately moved Maisie away from the window.
Police were called.
Officers searched the block.
No Daniel.
Another message arrived.
Claire should have left my family buried.
Ethan typed before anyone could stop him.
Your family?
May you like
The reply came instantly.
Ask Rebecca who her father really was.
