Chapter 1 - the key that should not have existed)
The first thing David Mercer heard when he kicked open the front door was his daughter crying.
Not screaming.
Not calling for help.
Just crying in the terrible, exhausted way children cried after they had already learned that screaming did not work.
The door slammed against the wall hard enough to send a framed photograph crashing onto the hardwood floor.
David barely noticed.
His eyes were fixed on the fireplace.
Lily was sitting beside it.
His nine-year-old daughter had both wrists tied together with the soft white cord from the living room curtains. A square medical bandage covered the left side of her forehead. Her cheeks were wet. One shoe was missing.
Laura stood over her.
David's wife.
Lily's stepmother.
The woman who had called him less than twenty minutes earlier and calmly told him that Lily had locked herself in her bedroom after another tantrum.
David stopped breathing.
"What the hell is this?"
Laura did not flinch.
That frightened him almost as much as the ropes.
Her hair was perfectly tied behind her head. Her blouse was tucked neatly into her jeans. She looked irritated, not shocked.
"She needed to learn to keep her mouth shut."
For a moment David could not understand the sentence.
Then he moved.
He crossed the room so quickly that Laura stepped backward.
David dropped to his knees beside Lily and began pulling at the knots.
"Dad."
Her voice cracked.
"I'm here."
His hands were shaking too badly to work the cord.
"I'm here, baby. I'm getting you out."
Laura sighed.
"Don't coddle this lying brat."
David looked up.
There was something in his face that made Laura fall silent.
He finally loosened the cord.
Lily pulled both hands against her chest.
There were red marks around her wrists, but David forced himself not to stare. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"What happened to your forehead?"
Lily opened her mouth.
Laura suddenly moved.
Her shoe struck Lily's phone, which lay near the edge of the rug.
The phone skidded underneath a low cabinet.
Lily recoiled.
That movement told David everything Laura's explanation never could.
"Dad," Lily whispered. "Mom does this whenever I talk about what happens at home."
David went completely still.
Laura's jaw tightened.
"She's confused."
Lily looked at David.
"No."
Laura stepped forward.
"Lily."
"No," Lily said again, louder this time.
Laura grabbed for her arm.
"Shut up."
David knocked Laura's hand away.
"Don't touch my child."
Laura stared at him.
Something shifted behind her eyes.
Until that moment, David had been frightened.
Now Laura looked frightened too.
Lily's breathing came in short bursts.
Then she looked toward the hallway.
"Dad."
"What?"
"Get my backpack."
A purple backpack lay against the wall beneath the coat hooks.
David rose.
Laura immediately stepped between him and the hallway.
"No."
David stared at her.
Laura seemed to realize what she had said.
She forced a laugh.
"I mean, she needs to calm down first. She has been acting insane all afternoon."
David stepped around her.
Laura grabbed his arm.
"David."
He pulled free.
"What is in the backpack?"
"Nothing."
That answer came too quickly.
David picked it up.
Laura lunged for it.
"Give me that damn bag."
David pushed her back with one arm, not hard enough to knock her down but firmly enough to stop her.
Lily crawled closer.
"I can open it."
He gave her the backpack.
Her fingers trembled as she pulled the zipper.
Books.
A pencil case.
A folded sweater.
Then Lily reached into the small pocket at the front.
She took out a crumpled white envelope.
The blue seal of Briarwood Elementary School was printed in the corner.
Laura went pale.
Lily held the envelope toward David.
"My teacher said I could only give it to you."
Laura whispered, "Lily."
David took it.
"Don't open it."
He looked at Laura.
"What?"
Laura's voice broke.
"I said don't open it."
David tore the envelope.
A letter slid halfway out.
Something metallic dropped with it.
A small brass key struck the hardwood floor.
The sound was tiny.
Yet somehow the entire room seemed to hear it.
David bent down.
A faded plastic tag was attached to the key.
17.
He held it between two fingers.
"What does this key open?"
Lily began crying harder.
Laura backed toward the stairs.
David looked from his daughter to his wife.
"Lily."
She raised one shaking hand.
She was pointing toward the large landscape painting beside the fireplace.
David had passed that painting every day for almost three years.
It showed a quiet lake beneath autumn trees.
Claire had bought it.
Claire.
His first wife.
Lily's mother.
The woman who had died eighteen months ago.
"There," Lily whispered.
David walked to the painting.
Laura suddenly shouted, "Stop."
He pulled the frame away from the wall.
Behind it was a recessed wooden cabinet he had never seen before.
A narrow keyhole sat beneath the handle.
David looked at the brass key.
Then at Laura.
"You knew about this?"
Laura shook her head too quickly.
Lily spoke behind him.
"I know the secret behind Mom's death."
David turned.
His stomach dropped.
Laura screamed.
"SHUT UP."
David inserted the key.
It turned.
The hidden cabinet opened.
There was no money inside.
No jewelry.
No weapon.
There were photographs.
Documents.
A black cell phone.
And a sealed plastic folder with Claire's name written across the front in her own handwriting.
David knew that handwriting.
He had seen it on birthday cards, grocery lists, Christmas presents, and the note Claire had once slipped into his suitcase before a business trip.
His hands suddenly felt numb.
He lifted the folder.
Something slid from beneath it.
A photograph.
David picked it up.
Claire was standing beside a gray stone building.
Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail.
She was holding that same brass key.
Behind her was a blue door.
A metal number was fixed above it.
17.
David nearly dropped the photograph.
Because there was a date printed in the lower corner.
June 14.
Claire had officially died on May 29.
Seventeen days earlier.
May you like
David looked at Laura.
She was already running.
