Chapter 4 - the locked study
Robert refused to stay away from the house.
"It's my home."
Ryan stood beside his father's car in the hospital parking garage.
"It's also where Mom is."
"All the more reason."
"Claire specifically said not to go alone."
Robert looked at him.
"You spoke to her?"
"Yes."
For a moment Robert looked as though someone had punched him.
"She's alive?"
Ryan almost laughed at the absurdity.
"You didn't know?"
"No."
"How do you lose your own daughter for seventeen years?"
Robert looked away.
"One bad decision at a time."
Ryan wanted to hate him.
Part of him did.
But Robert had been the one who stepped between Diane and Noah.
It didn't erase thirty eight years of silence.
It did mean something.
"I'm coming with you."
They reached the house shortly after midnight.
Thanksgiving still waited inside like an abandoned stage.
Half eaten turkey.
Cold mashed potatoes.
Glasses of wine.
A wooden chair lying on its side.
And in the middle of the white tablecloth, the cranberry stain.
Emily had been right.
It was tiny.
Ryan stared at it.
A quarter sized red mark had somehow revealed the entire family.
Robert picked up Noah's overturned chair.
His hands trembled.
"I should have stopped her before she ever touched him."
"Yes."
Robert looked at his son.
Ryan didn't soften the answer.
"You should have."
Robert nodded.
"I know."
They heard movement upstairs.
Ryan stiffened.
"Mom?"
No answer.
Robert opened a drawer beside the kitchen entrance and removed an old flashlight.
"What are you doing?"
"The lights in the west hallway are off."
"So?"
"They shouldn't be."
They walked through the house.
The dining room had always felt luxurious to Ryan as a child.
Tonight everything looked different.
The expensive paintings.
The polished floors.
The framed family photographs selected because nobody blinked.
Every inch of the house seemed designed to prove something.
Robert stopped outside his study.
The door was open.
He never left it open.
Inside, papers covered the floor.
Desk drawers had been emptied.
A filing cabinet stood open.
Robert crossed the room.
"No."
"What?"
Robert pulled out the bottom drawer.
Empty.
"What was in there?"
"Financial records."
"The trust?"
"More than that."
Ryan stepped closer.
"What else?"
Robert hesitated.
"After Claire left, I started keeping copies of anything Diane asked me to sign."
"Why?"
"Because I stopped trusting her."
"But you stayed married."
"I told you. Coward."
Ryan noticed a small safe behind a painting.
"Is that hers?"
"Mine."
Robert entered the code.
The safe opened.
Inside were passports, jewelry, property documents, and a small black memory card case.
Robert picked it up.
Empty.
"What was on that?"
"A recording."
Ryan's stomach tightened.
"Of what?"
Robert sat at the desk.
"Claire and your mother."
"When?"
"Two nights before Claire left."
"You recorded them?"
"Accidentally at first. I had a voice recorder running because I'd been dictating notes for work. They came into the study arguing."
Ryan waited.
"Claire confronted Diane about the trust."
"Did Mom admit it?"
"Yes."
"On the recording?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you go to the police?"
Robert stared at him.
"Diane told me if I did, she'd report Claire for fraud."
"But Claire didn't commit fraud."
"No. But Diane had already prepared documents."
Ryan felt sick.
"She framed her."
"She prepared to."
"And you believed her?"
"I believed she could make it look real."
Ryan walked away from the desk.
"Jesus Christ."
"I made a copy years later."
"Where?"
"In a safe deposit box."
"Does Mom know?"
Robert hesitated.
"She might."
A sound came from upstairs.
Both men froze.
A floorboard creaked.
Ryan whispered, "Someone's here."
Robert grabbed his phone.
They moved slowly into the hallway.
The staircase rose toward the dark second floor.
Another sound.
A door closing.
Ryan called out.
"Mom?"
Nothing.
He climbed.
Robert followed.
At the top, Diane's bedroom door was open.
Her closet had been emptied.
Several suitcases were missing.
On the bed lay her jewelry case.
Empty.
Ryan entered.
"She packed."
Robert opened a drawer.
"Passport's gone."
"Where would she go?"
Robert didn't answer.
Ryan's phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
He opened the message.
It contained a photograph.
A younger Claire stood beside a woman Ryan didn't recognize.
Behind them was a house near the ocean.
Beneath the photograph were seven words.
Ask your father who Margaret Holloway was.
Ryan looked up.
"Who's Margaret?"
Robert stopped moving.
His face changed.
"Where did you hear that name?"
Ryan held out the phone.
Robert didn't take it.
"Who is she?"
The house went silent.
Then the security system announced that the back door had opened.
Robert turned toward the hallway.
Ryan whispered, "Dad."
May you like
Footsteps sounded downstairs.
Someone had entered the house.
