Chapter 2 - The Green Paint)
By Friday morning, Brooke had memorized the number.
She destroyed the letter afterward.
The real one this time.
She tore it into pieces in the upstairs bathroom, soaked them under the faucet and flushed them separately.
Keeping evidence inside Gary’s house suddenly felt dangerous.
Remembering it felt safer.
614.
Three digits.
Then three.
Then four.
She repeated the sequence while brushing her teeth.
Again while walking to the bus stop.
Again during algebra.
By lunchtime, she could recite it backward.
She did not call.
Not yet.
If Adam really was her father, Brooke wanted answers.
But there were other possibilities.
The number might belong to someone Grandma Evelyn had trusted.
A lawyer.
A police officer.
An old friend.
Or someone dangerous enough that her grandmother had hidden his number in invisible pencil and left instructions about three knocks.
Brooke had learned caution from living with Gary.
At four that afternoon, Ethan came home carrying a poster board.
He looked excited.
That alone made Brooke happy.
“What’s that?”
“Science project.”
“Please tell me it’s not a volcano.”
“It’s a watershed.”
“That sounds worse.”
“It’s Ohio.”
“Definitely worse.”
Ethan laughed.
His teacher had assigned a project about water runoff. He needed blue paint for rivers, brown for soil and green for vegetation.
Brooke immediately looked toward the garage.
Gary was not home.
Their mother was working at the dining table with her laptop.
Brooke lowered her voice.
“You know the rule.”
Ethan’s smile vanished.
“We can do it outside.”
“It might rain.”
“Basement?”
Brooke hated the basement.
Gary stored filing cabinets there.
Two were locked.
So was a steel toolbox beneath the stairs.
Gary had installed a security camera facing the basement entrance six months earlier.
He claimed someone in the neighborhood had been breaking into houses.
Brooke noticed the camera only faced inward.
Not toward any window.
“No,” she said. “Kitchen.”
Ethan hesitated.
“Gary said.”
“I know what Gary said.”
Their mother looked up.
“Do it on newspaper.”
Brooke blinked.
“You’re letting him?”
Laura returned to her laptop.
“It’s a school project.”
Ethan smiled again.
For forty minutes, everything felt ordinary.
Brooke helped him paint tiny green trees.
Ethan complained that Ohio had too many rivers.
Laura made lemonade.
A storm formed outside, turning the windows gray.
Then Ethan reached across the table for another brush.
His elbow struck the green paint.
The cup tipped.
Paint flowed across the newspaper.
Some spilled onto the wooden table.
Most poured over the edge.
“Shoot.”
Ethan jumped down.
“I’ll get towels.”
Brooke grabbed napkins.
“Don’t run.”
The paint dripped toward the floor.
Brooke wiped the table.
Ethan returned with paper towels and dropped to his knees.
Then he stopped.
“Brooke?”
“What?”
“Look.”
Green paint had reached one of the lower kitchen cabinets.
The cabinet had always seemed ordinary.
Gary stored cleaning products inside.
But the paint revealed something.
A narrow seam along the baseboard.
Brooke crouched.
“What is that?”
Ethan touched it.
The strip of wood moved.
“Don’t.”
Too late.
The false panel popped loose.
Behind it was a shallow hidden compartment.
Brooke stared.
Inside lay a black envelope.
Ethan whispered, “Was that supposed to be there?”
Brooke’s heartbeat accelerated.
“No.”
She pulled it out.
The envelope contained photocopies.
Bank statements.
A property deed.
A court document.
And an old photograph.
Brooke forgot the paperwork the moment she saw the picture.
Three people stood outside an automotive shop.
One was Gary.
Younger.
Smiling.
The second was her mother.
The third man had his arm around Gary’s shoulder.
Brown hair.
Tall.
A familiar shape to his face.
Brooke had seen him in childhood photographs that vanished after Gary moved into their house.
Adam Hale.
Her father.
On the back someone had written:
Hale and Whitlock Restoration, 2015.
Partners.
Brooke felt cold.
Gary had told her he barely knew Adam.
According to him, they had met only a handful of times.
This picture did not look like two men who barely knew one another.
“Is that Dad?” Ethan asked.
Brooke turned.
Ethan had been a baby when Adam disappeared.
Their mother had removed nearly every photograph.
“You recognize him?”
“I saw one at Grandma’s.”
Brooke looked toward Laura.
Their mother was still in the dining room.
“Mom.”
Laura appeared.
The second she saw the open compartment, her face changed.
“Put it back.”
Brooke stood.
“What is this?”
“Brooke.”
“Gary knew Dad.”
“Put everything back.”
“You told me they barely knew each other.”
“Not now.”
“They were business partners.”
Ethan looked frightened.
Laura reached for the envelope.
Brooke pulled it away.
“Why are you lying?”
“I am trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
The garage door started opening.
Nobody moved.
Ethan whispered, “He’s home.”
Laura’s reaction terrified Brooke.
She grabbed the envelope from Brooke and shoved it back into the compartment.
“Clean the paint.”
“Mom.”
“Now.”
She replaced the wooden strip.
Brooke stared at her.
The kitchen door opened.
Gary entered.
He took two steps.
Then stopped.
His eyes moved toward the table.
The green paint.
The towels.
Ethan.
He set down his briefcase.
Very slowly.
“What happened?”
Ethan looked at Brooke.
Brooke answered.
“Accident.”
Gary walked toward the table.
His finger touched a smear of green.
“I had one rule.”
“It’s washable.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
Ethan’s shoulders curled inward.
Gary looked at him.
“I had one rule.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re always sorry.”
Brooke stepped closer.
“It was an accident.”
Gary crouched.
His eyes went to the cabinet.
To the baseboard.
Brooke saw him notice one tiny streak of paint inside the seam.
Everything in his face disappeared.
The anger.
The annoyance.
Even the performance of patience.
For one second, Brooke saw pure fear.
Gary stood.
“Laura.”
Their mother had gone pale.
“Did they open this cabinet?”
“No.”
Gary looked at Brooke.
“Did you?”
“No.”
He held her gaze.
Brooke did not blink.
Then Gary smiled.
“Good.”
He placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder.
Ethan flinched.
Gary noticed.
“So jumpy.”
“Leave him alone,” Brooke said.
Gary removed his hand.
“Everybody upstairs.”
“It’s four thirty.”
“Upstairs.”
Laura whispered, “Do what he says.”
Brooke took Ethan’s hand.
As they reached the stairs, Gary called after her.
“And leave your phone.”
Brooke turned.
“What?”
“Both of you. Phones on the table.”
Ethan did not have one.
Brooke slowly placed hers beside Gary’s briefcase.
Gary smiled.
“Thank you.”
Brooke and Ethan climbed the stairs.
From the hallway above, Brooke watched Gary close every blind in the kitchen.
Then he locked the back door.
Then he pulled the hidden envelope from behind the cabinet.
He opened it.
Counted the papers.
And looked toward the staircase.
Brooke pulled Ethan into her bedroom before Gary could see them.
Ethan whispered, “He knows.”
“Yes.”
“What do we do?”
Brooke thought about the number she had memorized.
The old phone matters.
Three knocks means open the door.
“We find out why that envelope scared him.”
“How?”
Brooke looked toward the hallway.
Gary had taken her phone.
May you like
But he had forgotten one device.
The old house phone downstairs.
