Chương 9
That had been four years ago.
Not seven.
Before that, there had been another incident.
A helicopter hard landing during a training exercise.
No fatalities.
Three injuries.
I had spent one night under observation.
Seven years ago.
“Was I hurt?”
“I assume so.”
“You never heard?”
“No.”
“Did Conrad?”
“Yes.”
The word landed cleanly.
Too cleanly.
“How do you know?”
“Because Mom found the note.”
“What note?”
“A message slip.”
“From the call?”
He nodded.
“She found it in his desk.”
My mouth went dry.
“What did it say?”
“Commander Elise Voss.”
I had held that rank then.
“Naval hospital.”
He frowned.
“Somewhere in the Pacific.”
“Guam?”
“Maybe.”
The old room came back in fragments.
A nurse with purple glasses.
A television mounted too high.
The smell of disinfectant.
Someone asking whether there was anybody I wanted notified.
I had said no.
Not because there was nobody.
Because I had learned not to name people who had already decided they were gone.
“What else?”
Damian looked sick.
“Mom’s name.”
I stared at him.
“As next of kin?”
“I think so.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because I never listed her.”
He looked confused.
“Never?”
“Not after I left.”
“Then why would they call?”
“I don’t know.”
For once, the phrase belonged to me.
I leaned back against the linen cart.
The metal pressed cold through my dress.
“Who was my emergency contact?”
Damian asked.
“A friend.”
“Who?”
“Someone from my unit.”
“Could the records have been old?”
“Not seven years later.”
“Then maybe the call wasn’t official.”
That possibility was worse in a different direction.
“Where is the message slip now?”
“In Mom’s desk.”
I looked at the key.
“You’ve seen it?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“She told me she put it there.”
“What else did she put there?”
“I don’t know.”
I almost snapped at him again.
Then I saw the fear on his face.
Not fear of me.
Fear of the answer.
“She told you to keep the desk locked.”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you not to open it?”
His silence answered.
“She did.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She said I would open it when I was ready to stop protecting him.”
I stared at my brother.
He looked away.
For all my anger, I understood why the key had stayed unused.
Opening that desk was not about discovering papers.
It was about surrendering the last excuse he had for not knowing.
“Where is it?”
“At the house.”
“Conrad’s house?”
“No.”
“Yours?”
He nodded.
I straightened.
“We’re going now.”
His eyes widened.
“Elise.”
“You brought the key.”
“It’s Julian’s wedding.”
“You brought the key.”
“I told you, I always carry it.”
“Then tonight seems to be the night your subconscious finally gets a vote.”
“That isn’t funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
He looked toward the ballroom doors.
“We can’t just leave.”
“We absolutely can.”
“My son is getting married.”
“Your son is currently married.”
“That’s not the point.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“The point is that your mother left you something before she died and told you exactly what it would cost to open it.”
His jaw tightened.
“And you think you get to decide I’m ready?”
“No.”
I held out my hand.
“I’m deciding that I am.”
He stared at my palm.
For a second, I thought he would give me the key.
Then his fingers closed around it.
“No.”
The answer surprised both of us.
I lowered my hand.
“No?”
“I’m coming with you.”
His voice shook.
“But I open the desk.”
I studied him.
That was not courage exactly.
Courage was an overused word.
Sometimes people simply reached the point where fear had become more exhausting than the thing they feared.
“Fine.”
He exhaled.
“We tell Julian first.”
“We tell Claire too.”
“Why Claire?”
“Because it’s her wedding.”
He blinked.
“Right.”
“And Damian?”
“Yes?”
“If Conrad asks where we’re going?”
He gave me a tired look.
“For once, he can wonder.”
Claire found us before we found her.
She had abandoned her shoes somewhere near the dance floor and was walking barefoot through the ballroom with one hand gripping the side of her dress.
“You two look guilty.”
Julian came up behind her carrying both shoes by their straps.
“She means that affectionately.”
“I don’t.”
Claire looked at Damian.
“What happened?”
“We have to leave for a little while.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Both of you?”
“Yes.”
Julian handed her the shoes.
“Where?”
“My house.”
Damian glanced at me.
“There’s something Mom left.”
Julian went still.
Claire looked from her husband to me.
“The desk?”
Damian frowned.
“You know about it?”
“Julian mentioned it.”
My nephew looked apologetic.
“I tell my wife things.”
“That seems healthy,” I said.
Damian gave him a look.
Julian shrugged.
“New concept.”
Claire ignored them.
“How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know.”
Damian checked his watch.
“An hour, maybe.”
“Your house is forty minutes away.”
“Then longer.”
She stared at him.
“This is your son’s wedding reception.”
“I’m aware.”
“You don’t sound aware.”
Damian’s face tightened.
“Claire.”
“No.”
She crossed her arms.
“You don’t get to disappear and make Julian spend the rest of the night wondering if something exploded.”
“I can text.”
“You can explain.”
Julian touched her shoulder.
“It’s okay.”
She turned on him.
“No, it isn’t.”
“Claire.”
“You have spent the entire week saying you don’t care what your family does tonight.”
“I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
She softened a little.
“I’m not saying they shouldn’t go.”
“I’m saying you deserve to know why.”
Damian looked at me.
I nodded.
He exhaled.
“My mother left documents in her desk.”
“What kind?”
“We don’t know.”
Claire glanced toward Conrad across the room.
He was speaking to a woman in a silver gown but watching us over her shoulder.
Claire noticed.
“Does he?”
“Probably not,” Damian said.
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
Julian lowered his voice.
“Is this about Aunt Elise?”
“Yes.”
Claire’s expression changed.
“All right.”
May you like
She turned to Julian.
“You’re staying.”
