Chương 3
Evelyn unfolded the paper.
The first line was enough to make her sit down again.
Mom, if Sophie got to you, then I ran out of time.
Evelyn read it twice.
The rest was shorter than she expected.
Do not call Daniel.
Do not let him take her, no matter what he tells you.
Keep Sophie with you tonight.
I know what you think of me, and maybe some of it is deserved, but this is not about us anymore.
I need you to believe me once before you have proof.
The key is for the box.
You know which one.
Evelyn did not know which one.
That frightened her almost as much as the first sentence.
“Who’s Daniel?” she asked.
Sophie’s face changed.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Before she could answer, footsteps sounded in the hall.
Martin appeared in the doorway, no longer wearing the politely irritated expression he reserved for disruptions.
“Evelyn.”
She folded the letter.
“What?”
“There’s a man at the gate.”
Sophie slid off the stool so fast it scraped backward.
The empty mug toppled and shattered on the floor.
Evelyn barely noticed.
Martin looked at Sophie, then back at her.
“He says he’s the child’s father.”
Sophie grabbed Evelyn’s wrist with both hands.
It was the first time she had touched her.
“Don’t let him in,” she whispered.
Evelyn covered the girl’s cold fingers with her own as headlights swept across the rain-dark windows at the front of the house.
For one second, nobody moved.
Then Sophie tightened her grip until her fingernails pressed crescents into Evelyn’s skin.
“Martin, lock the front doors.”
“They’re already locked.”
“The side entrance?”
“Locked.”
“Garage?”
“Evelyn, this is not a fortress.”
“Tonight it is.”
Martin glanced toward the shattered mug, then at Sophie, whose bare feet were surrounded by pieces of white ceramic.
“Don’t move, sweetheart.”
“I’m not a sweetheart.”
Martin blinked.
Sophie looked embarrassed by her own sharpness.
“My mom says people call girls sweetheart when they want them to stop arguing.”
A strange sound escaped Evelyn before she could prevent it.
It was almost a laugh.
Martin stared at her as if she had begun speaking Portuguese.
“Your mother has opinions about everything,” Evelyn said.
“She says you do too.”
“Unfortunately, that may be hereditary.”
Sophie’s mouth twitched, but the headlights outside swept away, and fear returned immediately.
Martin crouched to collect the larger pieces of ceramic.
“Security says the man has identification.”
“What name?”
“Daniel Cross.”
Evelyn felt Sophie’s fingers stiffen.
“Do you know him?”
Sophie nodded.
“Is he your father?”
The girl looked at the floor.
“Sophie.”
“He’s married to Mom.”
That was not an answer, and the distinction seemed deliberate.
Evelyn set Caroline’s letter on the counter.
“Does he live with you?”
“He used to.”
“When?”
“Before Christmas.”
“What happened at Christmas?”
“Mom changed the locks.”
Martin stopped gathering ceramic.
Evelyn looked at him.
“Find out what Daniel Cross wants without letting him onto the property.”
“He says he wants his daughter.”
“He can say it from the gate.”
Martin stood, dropping the ceramic into a dish towel.
“And the police?”
“Not yet.”
“Two officers are parked outside.”
“Then Daniel has an audience.”
“That may be precisely why he came.”
Evelyn disliked that Martin was right.
She disliked even more that Caroline’s letter had reduced her world to instructions she did not understand.
Do not call Daniel.
Do not let him take her.
The key is for the box.
You know which one.
She picked up the brass key.
It was small and old-fashioned, with a narrow shaft and three teeth cut unevenly along one edge.
Nothing about it was familiar.
“Sophie, did your mother say anything about this?”
“No.”
“Did you see where she got it?”
“Her necklace.”
Evelyn turned.
“She wore it?”
“Sometimes under her shirt.”
“For how long?”
Sophie shrugged.
“Forever.”
The word landed harder than it should have.
Caroline had carried a key Evelyn was expected to recognize, perhaps for years, while refusing every attempt Evelyn made to reach her.
Martin’s phone vibrated.
He read the message and frowned.
“What?”
“Mr. Cross is requesting that the police conduct a welfare check.”
“On Sophie?”
“Yes.”
“He knows she’s here?”
“He told the officers Caroline called him and said Sophie had been taken by a family member without permission.”
Sophie made a small noise.
“No.”
Evelyn turned to her.
“What?”
“Mom wouldn’t call him.”
“Are you sure?”
“She hates him.”
Children were poor witnesses to adult relationships and excellent witnesses to fear.
Evelyn slid Caroline’s letter into her pocket.
“Martin, bring the officers inside.”
“And Cross?”
“No.”
“Evelyn, if he has legal custody—”
“He can demonstrate it from the other side of my gate.”
Martin’s patience finally cracked.
“You cannot purchase your own version of family law because you dislike the man standing outside.”
“No, but I can afford attorneys who know what it is.”
“That is not remotely the reassuring distinction you think it is.”
Sophie watched them as though tracking a tennis match.
Evelyn lowered her voice.
“Caroline specifically told me not to give Sophie to him.”
“And Caroline is missing.”
“Exactly.”
Martin looked at the child, and some of the resistance left his face.
“I’ll bring the officers.”
When he was gone, Evelyn found slippers in the mudroom that were far too large for Sophie and helped her avoid the remaining shards.
Sophie shuffled across the kitchen in them, each step making a soft slap.
“My mom has those.”
“Slippers?”
“Ugly ones.”
“These are Martin’s.”
“They’re still ugly.”
“They are exceptionally ugly.”
For three seconds, they were simply a grandmother and granddaughter insulting a man’s footwear.
Then Sophie said, “Daniel lies.”
Evelyn stopped.
“About what?”
“Stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“He told my teacher Mom forgot to sign a paper when she didn’t.”
“That could be a mistake.”
“It wasn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Mom signed it at breakfast.”
Sophie pulled the towel tighter around her shoulders.
“And he told our old landlord she broke the bathroom mirror.”
May you like
“Did she?”
“He did.”
