Chapter 6
His name was Peter Hale.
Dad knew him. Peter handled some paperwork for the company where Dad worked. He had come to our house for dinner twice. I remembered him asking Vanessa about the garden while Dad took a work call.
Dad’s lawyer, Ms. Alvarez, had found Peter’s name on the bank forms as the person who witnessed Dad’s signature.
“I never signed them,” Dad said.
Ms. Alvarez did not tell us to confront him. She asked Dad to send her the records and speak with the investigator assigned to Vanessa’s case. Dad did both while Aunt Ruth and I waited at home.
I had started carrying the blue box from room to room. At breakfast it sat beside my cereal. That afternoon I brought it onto the porch, even though I was only going to be there a few minutes.
Aunt Ruth noticed.
“You could leave it with me,” she said.
“I know.”
I kept it on my lap.
Maya came outside and sat beside me.
“I found something,” she said. She opened her hand. A tiny yellow bead rested in her palm.
It had fallen off the edge of Mom’s scarf years ago. Maya had found it beneath the passenger seat of Vanessa’s car before Vanessa drove away.
“I thought you might want it.”
I took the bead. “Thank you.”
Maya watched me put it in the box.
“Is my mom the reason you were sad at Christmas?”
I looked at her. “Why do you ask?”
“Last Christmas you asked for a picture of your mommy for your room. Mom said you already had one in the hall. You cried after dinner.”
I remembered. Vanessa had told me I was making the holiday uncomfortable for everyone.
“You didn’t make me sad,” I said.
Maya leaned against my arm. “I know. But I saw you were.”
It was the first time anyone in the house had told me they noticed.
That evening, Dad came home with news. The police had located Vanessa. She was staying with her mother and had agreed to speak with investigators the following morning. Dad had also arranged for Leo and Maya to talk with her by phone before bed.
He asked if I wanted to speak to her.
“No.”
“You don’t have to.”
He took the little yellow bead I showed him and held it on his fingertip.
“I missed so much,” he said.
I watched him turn it over. “When you were home, I tried to tell you things.”
“I know.”
“You said Vanessa was tired.”
“I did.”
“She told you my shoes were fine.”
“Yes.”
I waited. I needed him to understand there had been chances before the store.
Dad set the bead down carefully. “I believed the easier answer. I’m sorry, Nia. I should have looked at your shoes myself. I should have listened when you came to me.”
I had wanted him to say that. Hearing it still hurt.
“What happens when she wants to come back?”
“She won’t live here while I figure out how to keep you safe.”
I nodded, but I didn’t feel ready to trust the promise yet.
The next day, Aunt Ruth came with us to get the envelope from Evelyn’s granddaughter’s school. Her teacher had kept it in a folder after seeing the address and realizing it belonged to someone.
It was the letter for my sixteenth birthday.
The seal was intact.
On the ride home, Dad told me the auction company had released Mom’s ring to him. It was in a box in his pocket. He asked if I wanted to see it.
I held it for a moment. The dent was still there.
“You can keep it until I’m older,” I said.
“I will. You can ask for it whenever you want.”
We put the ring in a safe deposit box the next morning, along with the letters. Dad made copies of the bank records and gave the originals to Ms. Alvarez.
That afternoon, the investigator called him again. Peter had admitted witnessing the signature without seeing Dad sign it. He said Vanessa told him Dad had already approved the transfer and was away on business. Peter had signed because he trusted her.
Dad listened, his jaw clenched.
When the call ended, he told us Peter had also seen Vanessa with several envelopes. She had asked whether old personal letters could be sold with antiques. Peter told her no one would pay much for them.
“What did she do with them?” I asked.
“He doesn’t know. He saw her take them when she left his office.”
We had a date now. The visit to Peter’s office happened after she sold the bracelet, but before she took the box to the shop.
Aunt Ruth helped Dad write down that timeline. I watched them work until I could no longer sit still.
I went to my room, opened the blue box, and took out the letter for my thirteenth birthday. I would not turn thirteen for months.
I wanted to open it. I wanted Mom to tell me what to do.
Instead, I held the sealed envelope against my chest.
A knock came at my door.
May you like
It was Leo. He looked as if he had been trying not to cry.
“I talked to Mom,” he said. “She asked me to tell the police I made up what I saw.”
