Chapter 6
The first time I heard Rachel's voice after six years, something inside me came back to life.
But hope can be painful.
Because once you know someone has been fighting to return home, every wasted day becomes unbearable.
I listened to her recording three times.
Each time, the words hurt more.
"I didn't leave you."
I wanted to tell her I believed her.
I wanted to apologize for doubting her.
Most of all, I wanted to hold her.
Detective Price wouldn't let us keep the original device, but she gave us access to the recording through the investigation.
The video had been dated eleven months earlier.
Rachel had been alive less than a year ago.
That fact became the only thing keeping me steady.
The next morning, Isaiah called.
"Evelyn has disappeared."
I stood in the guesthouse kitchen.
"What?"
"She left the mansion last night. Her driver says she dismissed him and took another vehicle."
"Did she know about the recording?"
"Not from me."
My heart hammered.
"Then why would she run?"
Isaiah sounded exhausted.
"Because detectives served requests for records yesterday. She knows they're investigating."
I looked toward the hallway where Lily was eating breakfast with my mother.
"Find her."
"Detective Price is already looking."
"Isaiah, if she gets to Rachel first—"
"I know."
His voice broke.
"Believe me, Marcus. I know."
By noon, investigators discovered that several Rosehaven residents had been transferred between facilities over the previous two years.
Some transfers had proper documentation.
Others contained conflicting information.
Rachel's most recent recorded transfer had been made under the name Rebecca Lane.
I stared at the documents Danielle showed me.
Rebecca Lane.
My wife's identity had been changed again.
"Why?" I asked.
Danielle shook her head.
"Possibly to obscure her location. We're still establishing who ordered it."
Detective Price pointed to the destination listed in the file.
"A residential center called Pine Hollow."
"Where is it?"
"Two counties away."
I rose from my chair.
"Then what are we waiting for?"
"Marcus, officers are already there."
I stopped.
"Is she inside?"
"We don't know yet."
The detective's phone rang.
She answered.
Her face changed as she listened.
Then she turned away slightly.
"How long ago?"
My stomach twisted.
She ended the call.
"Pine Hollow says Rebecca Lane was discharged yesterday."
I felt as though someone had emptied the air from the room.
"Yesterday?"
"According to their administrator."
"To whom?"
"They claim a relative collected her."
I slammed my palm against the table.
"What relative?"
Detective Price's expression was grim.
"They haven't yet provided a verified identity."
I stared at her.
"Evelyn."
"We're investigating that possibility."
I couldn't stand still.
Rachel had been within reach.
And someone had moved her again.
I walked out into the hallway.
Danielle followed.
"Marcus."
I pressed my forehead against the wall.
"I promised Lily I'd find her."
"I know."
"What if I'm too late?"
She stood beside me.
"We have more evidence today than we did yesterday. We know Rachel was alive recently, and we have a new location to investigate."
I shook my head.
"That doesn't bring her home."
"No. But it gives us a path forward."
I wanted to believe her.
I truly did.
That evening, Isaiah came to the guesthouse.
He brought something wrapped in brown paper.
"I found this in Rachel's old room."
I opened it.
A small wooden music box.
The one I had given Rachel on our first wedding anniversary.
I stared at it.
"How did you get this?"
"It was in a locked cabinet."
I opened the lid.
A soft melody began to play.
Rachel used to wind it every night when she was pregnant.
She said our daughter deserved to hear beautiful things before she was born.
I sat down.
For a moment, I was back in our little apartment.
Rachel was sitting cross-legged on the couch.
Her hand rested on her stomach.
She was smiling at me.
And the future still seemed simple.
Isaiah sat beside me.
"Marcus, there is something I haven't told you."
I looked up.
He seemed frightened.
"Seven years ago, Rachel came to me and said she'd discovered something involving one of our family's foundations."
"What kind of something?"
"Records that didn't match. Donations assigned to children who apparently didn't exist. Payments to medical facilities."
My pulse quickened.
"And?"
"I told her the accounting department would investigate."
"Did they?"
"I don't know."
I stared at him.
"You don't know?"
He lowered his head.
"I trusted Evelyn when she said the matter had been resolved."
I stood.
"Rachel found something dangerous, and you let Evelyn handle it?"
"I didn't understand."
"She was your daughter!"
Isaiah flinched.
I didn't care.
For six years, Rachel had suffered while the people who should have protected her looked away.
Then I saw his tears.
He wasn't defending himself.
He was accepting every word.
"I failed her," he whispered.
The anger inside me didn't disappear.
But I recognized something important.
Isaiah was finally telling the truth.
And I needed every piece of it.
"Did Rachel keep copies of the records?"
He nodded.
"She said she would."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
I looked down at the music box.
Then I noticed something.
A small scratch near the bottom.
Rachel had scratched a tiny heart into the wood years ago.
But beside it was a number.
317.
I turned the box over.
Three digits had been carved into the base.
"Was this always here?" I asked.
Isaiah leaned closer.
"I don't remember seeing that."
I took a photograph.
Then called Detective Price.
She asked us to bring the box in.
The next morning, an investigator carefully examined it.
Inside a concealed compartment beneath the musical mechanism, they found a folded strip of paper.
I watched as it was opened.
There were three words.
Ask Mary Caldwell.
Beneath them was a telephone number.
I looked at Isaiah.
"Who's Mary Caldwell?"
He shook his head.
"I've never heard that name."
Detective Price entered the number into her system.
A moment later, her expression changed.
"Mary Caldwell was a nurse at Willow Creek."
My heart jumped.
"Where is she now?"
"Retired."
"Can we find her?"
The detective looked at me.
"She's already spoken to investigators."
I froze.
"What did she say?"
"She left a message yesterday claiming she knows where Rachel was taken."
I gripped the table.
"Then call her!"
Detective Price raised a hand.
"We've been trying."
"Why?"
"Because she disappeared from her home before officers arrived."
I stared at her.
Another missing woman.
Another person who knew too much.
Then the detective's phone vibrated.
She read the message.
Her eyes narrowed.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
She looked at me.
"Mary Caldwell has contacted our office again."
"Is she safe?"
"She says she's hiding."
"From whom?"
The detective swallowed.
"From Evelyn Bennett."
I stood absolutely still.
Then Detective Price continued.
"Mary says she has Rachel with her."
For a moment, the entire world went silent.
I couldn't even speak.
My wife.
My Rachel.
Alive.
May you like
Somewhere.
And possibly only one phone call away.
