Chapter 4 - The basement room
Lena found Brad's financial records first.
The forty thousand dollars I sent each January never entered Ivy's education account.
There was no education account.
Less than twenty percent went toward Ivy's expenses.
The rest moved through two businesses.
Wallace Property Management.
North Line Consulting.
Both controlled by Brad.
Then money left again.
Rent.
Medical services.
Private nursing.
Utilities.
One recurring address:
1428 Silver Creek Road.
A farmhouse outside town.
Owned by a trust.
Beneficiary hidden.
I felt sick.
“Is Willow there?”
“We don't know.”
“Then find out.”
Lena did better.
She found utility records.
A private nurse had billed North Line for seven years.
Patient initials:
W.H.
Willow Harper.
I had to sit down.
Alive.
Maybe.
Or someone had been using her identity.
Lena warned me.
“We verify before we assume.”
I appreciated that.
Because hope can destroy judgment faster than grief.
We drove past Silver Creek Road.
No stopping.
No trespassing.
The farmhouse looked ordinary.
White siding.
Red barn.
Curtains closed.
Then I saw a little face at the upstairs window.
Not Willow.
A boy.
Maybe ten.
He vanished immediately.
“Who is that?”
Lena didn't know.
The trust owner finally surfaced.
Dr. Samuel Keene.
The doctor who declared my daughter dead.
That night, Ivy called me.
Not from Brad's number.
Unknown phone.
“Grandpa?”
“Ivy?”
Her breathing was fast.
“Dad's mad.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Are you safe?”
“Right now.”
“What did you mean when you said Mommy sleeps downstairs?”
Silence.
Then:
“Sometimes Dad takes me to the country house.”
My heart stopped.
“What country house?”
“He says I'm not allowed to talk about it.”
“Ivy, is your mother there?”
She started crying.
“I don't know.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a lady.”
My hands shook.
“Does she look like Mommy?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know you?”
Ivy whispered:
“Sometimes.”
Sometimes.
That word terrified me.
“What does that mean?”
“She calls me Lily.”
“Who is Lily?”
“I don't know.”
Then I heard a door open on her end.
Brad.
“Ivy?”
She gasped.
The call ended.
Twenty minutes later, Brad texted me.
Stop confusing her.
I didn't reply.
Instead, Lena and I met with an attorney.
We had enough to request emergency welfare review without exposing all our suspicions.
But before any filing was made, another photograph arrived at my store.
No envelope this time.
Just a picture slipped under the door.
Willow.
At the farmhouse.
Recent.
Standing beside Dr. Keene.
And in the corner stood the same boy from the upstairs window.
May you like
On the back:
You have two grandchildren.
