Chương 9
At the bedroom door, Mrs. Alvarez had already pulled fresh sheets from the linen closet.
Marco was attempting to fit the oversized star pajamas onto a hanger.
“They’re too big,” Teresa said.
“I know that now.”
Lily climbed onto the bed.
“Benny?”
Vincent stopped.
“I’ll get him.”
He walked down the hall toward his study.
The rabbit was not there.
Vincent opened the cabinet where he had placed it three weeks earlier.
Empty.
He checked the desk.
Nothing.
He opened the lower drawer.
Nothing.
Marco appeared behind him.
“What?”
“Benny’s gone.”
Marco’s expression changed.
“No.”
“I put him here.”
“I saw you.”
Vincent turned.
“Who moved it?”
Neither man spoke.
Then Mrs. Alvarez called from the hall.
“Mr. Moretti?”
Vincent stepped out.
She stood near the stairs holding a small brown paper bag.
“This was on the kitchen counter.”
“When?”
“It wasn’t there when I went to bed.”
Vincent took it.
Inside was Benny.
The stuffed rabbit had been cleaned.
Its left ear still carried Lily’s stitched initials.
But something else had been placed around its neck.
A thin red ribbon.
Tied to the ribbon was a brass key.
Teresa reached them and stared at it.
Vincent lifted the key into the light.
A small paper tag hung from the ring.
One word had been written on it in black ink.
BASEMENT.
Vincent did not touch the key again.
For several seconds he simply held the paper bag open while the rabbit stared up at him with one crooked stitched eye.
Teresa reached past him and took the bag by its folded edge.
“Nobody handles anything else.”
Marco looked toward the kitchen.
“Someone came inside.”
Mrs. Alvarez’s face tightened.
“I locked the back door.”
“When?”
“Before midnight.”
“You’re sure?”
“I have lived in this house eighteen years, Marco.”
“I’m not questioning you.”
“You are using the voice you use when you question people.”
Marco lowered his voice.
“Then I’m questioning the door.”
Vincent looked at the brass key.
It was old, the kind with a narrow stem and rectangular teeth, nothing like the electronic locks in his own house.
“Basement where?”
Teresa pulled out her phone and photographed the bag, rabbit, ribbon, key, and tag without moving them.
“Not ours.”
Vincent looked at her.
“That seems obvious.”
“Obvious is useful.”
Mrs. Alvarez folded her arms.
“There is no basement key in this house that looks like that.”
Marco nodded.
“Ours are coded.”
Vincent’s eyes shifted toward the ceiling.
Lily was one floor above them.
“What does Daniel’s basement use?”
Marco looked at him.
“You’ve been there more recently than I have.”
“Thanksgiving.”
“And?”
Vincent closed his eyes briefly, reconstructing the house.
Wine room.
Utility closet.
Storage.
A finished family room where Daniel had once kept a treadmill he never used.
The exterior storm door.
Then something returned.
A narrow wooden door beneath the basement stairs.
Painted white.
Old brass lock.
He had noticed it because the hardware did not match anything else in the renovated house.
“There’s a storage closet.”
Teresa watched him.
“Locked?”
“I don’t know.”
“You noticed a closet but not whether it was locked?”
“I notice bad renovations.”
“That may be the oldest-man sentence you’ve ever said.”
Vincent ignored her.
Marco’s phone rang.
He checked the screen.
“Gatehouse.”
Vincent looked at him.
Marco answered.
“Yes.”
He listened.
His expression changed.
“What time?”
Another pause.
“Send it to me.”
He hung up.
Teresa looked at him.
“What?”
“East gate camera caught movement at three sixteen.”
“Person?”
“Vehicle.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Same crossover?”
“Maybe.”
“Plate?”
“Partial.”
Teresa held up a hand.
“Before anyone decides this is an invitation to become a private police department, we call the actual police.”
Vincent looked toward the paper bag.
“They’ll want to know why someone entered my property.”
“They should.”
“And they’ll take Benny.”
“Probably.”
Lily appeared at the top of the stairs.
Nobody had heard her come out of the bedroom.
She was barefoot, drowning in Vincent’s overcoat, one sleeve dragging behind her.
“Benny?”
Every adult froze.
Vincent moved first.
He climbed the stairs and blocked her view of the bag.
“You’re supposed to be in bed.”
“I want Benny.”
“I know.”
“He here?”
Vincent crouched.
“Yeah.”
Her face brightened for the first time since the hospital.
He hated what came next.
“The police need to look at him first.”
Lily’s expression collapsed.
“No.”
“Only for a little while.”
“No.”
“They have to—”
“No.”
Her voice rose sharply.
Vincent stopped.
Lily backed away.
“He’s mine.”
“Yes.”
“Rebecca took him.”
“I know.”
“You take him too.”
“No.”
“You said.”
Vincent felt the accusation land exactly where it belonged.
He had promised her the rabbit.
He had done it because the promise seemed easy.
Adults made their most dangerous promises when they assumed keeping them would be simple.
He sat down on the stair.
“I did say that.”
Lily stared at him.
“I was wrong to promise before I knew what was happening.”
She said nothing.
Vincent looked toward the lower floor.
Teresa had turned away enough to give them the illusion of privacy.
“I’m not giving Benny away.”
Lily’s mouth trembled.
“Then bring him.”
“I can’t yet.”
“Why?”
“Because somebody put something on him, and we need to know who.”
“Key.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You saw it?”
She nodded.
His heartbeat changed.
“Have you seen that key before?”
Teresa turned back immediately.
Lily looked downstairs.
Then she looked at Vincent.
“Bad box key.”
No one spoke.
Vincent stood.
“What box?”
Lily pulled the coat closer around herself.
“Under stairs.”
Teresa climbed halfway up.
“Vincent.”
He looked at her.
Her warning was softer this time.
Not stop.
Careful.
Vincent nodded.
He turned back to Lily.
“Did Rebecca keep a box under the stairs?”
Lily nodded.
“What color?”
“Black.”
“What was in it?”
“No touch.”
“That’s what she told you?”
Another nod.
“What happened if you touched it?”
Lily’s face closed.
Vincent saw it happen and hated himself immediately for pushing.
He sat back down.
“Okay.”
May you like
Lily looked at him suspiciously.
“No more questions.”
