Chapter 9 - The House With No Family Photographs
Hollow Creek stood at the end of a narrow road surrounded by woods.
From the outside, it looked almost peaceful.
Two brick buildings.
A wide lawn.
A white wooden sign.
HOLLOW CREEK YOUTH WELLNESS RESIDENCE.
But Owen Mercer had been trying to leave for years.
And on Thursday morning, he finally got the chance to speak to someone who wasn't employed by the facility.
Hannah's attorney had secured a meeting through the relevant guardianship proceedings.
An independent advocate was present.
Owen sat across the table from his sister.
Seventeen years old.
Thin.
Pale.
His dark hair was cut short.
He looked older than his age in some ways and heartbreakingly young in others.
"Hannah?"
She stood so quickly her chair scraped across the floor.
"Owen."
He hesitated.
Then walked into her arms.
For a long time, neither spoke.
Finally, Owen whispered, "I thought you forgot."
Hannah shook her head.
"Never."
He pulled back.
"Are you taking me home?"
Her expression changed.
"I'm trying."
Owen looked down.
"That's what everybody says."
Hannah took his hand.
"This time, we have lawyers and investigators looking at everything."
Owen stared at her.
"That's what Dad said too."
Hannah felt her throat tighten.
The advocate gently interrupted.
"Owen, we want to hear from you about what you've experienced and what you want."
Owen glanced at the door.
"Will they punish me afterward?"
"No one should retaliate against you for speaking here," the advocate answered. "And we're documenting your concern so it can be addressed."
Owen hesitated.
Then he began telling them about Hollow Creek.
The locked schedules.
The privileges that disappeared after complaints.
The pressure to describe himself as dangerous whenever he asked to leave.
The paperwork he was repeatedly told to sign.
"Did anyone explain what the forms meant?" the advocate asked.
"They said I wasn't ready to understand."
"Did you sign them?"
"Some."
"Why?"
Owen looked at Hannah.
"Because they told me I might get to see her if I did."
Hannah began crying.
Back in Chicago, Naomi sat across from the school district investigator.
This time, she had an attorney with her.
The attorney, Angela Brooks, had reviewed the complaint and the district's procedures.
"Coach Carter made a mandated report based on statements a child voluntarily disclosed after a medical emergency," Angela said.
The investigator nodded.
"We've confirmed that."
"Then why is she still on leave?"
"Because of the recording issue."
Naomi looked up.
"What recording issue?"
The investigator placed a transcript on the table.
"Mrs. Bennett claims you recorded a conversation with Lily and distributed portions of it."
Naomi stared at the paper.
"I didn't record Lily."
Angela leaned forward.
"Where did this transcript come from?"
"It was submitted by Mrs. Bennett's representative."
Angela examined the document.
"This doesn't identify any recording device, date, or chain of custody."
"No," the investigator admitted.
"Then there's no basis to treat it as authenticated."
Naomi looked at the transcript.
Someone had written down Lily's words.
But some were wrong.
Others had been rearranged.
And one sentence had been inserted that Lily had never said.
Coach Naomi told me Daddy doesn't love me.
Naomi felt sick.
"She made that up."
Angela touched her arm.
"We'll respond formally."
Naomi looked at the investigator.
"That little girl was afraid of losing her father. Why would I tell her something like that?"
The investigator didn't answer.
At Bennett Development, Susan Park discovered a second problem.
Three employees had received emails directing them to upload confidential company documents into a new financial management platform.
The emails had supposedly come from Daniel.
But the login links were connected to a domain registered through an intermediary associated with Hollow Creek Holdings.
Susan called Peter immediately.
"Someone was trying to access our payroll and vendor records."
"Did anyone use the link?"
"One person did."
"What did they upload?"
"An employee directory and partial banking information."
Peter closed his eyes.
"Preserve the emails and contact your security team. We'll coordinate with the investigators."
Daniel stood nearby.
"Why would she need my employees' information?"
Peter looked at him.
"Financial fraud can spread beyond the original target. If they obtained enough information, they might attempt impersonation or unauthorized transactions."
Daniel shook his head.
"She wasn't just stealing from me."
"No."
At four that afternoon, Detective Reed's team executed authorized searches at multiple locations connected to the investigation.
Investigators recovered financial records and computers from an office used by Westbridge.
They also obtained materials from a property-management company linked to Helen Voss.
But Adrian Vale wasn't there.
His phone was turned off.
His home was empty.
His car had been found at an airport parking garage.
Reed called Daniel.
"He's gone."
Daniel stood.
"Where?"
"We're working on it."
"Did Marissa help him?"
"We don't know."
Daniel paced his office.
"He's going to disappear."
"We're coordinating with other agencies. You need to let us handle that."
Daniel stopped.
"What about Marissa?"
"She's been contacted through counsel. We are still gathering evidence."
Daniel looked at the calendar.
Thursday.
Tomorrow was Friday.
The day Marissa had planned to take Lily away.
"Everything was supposed to happen tomorrow."
"I know."
"What if she's still planning something?"
"Make sure you and Lily follow the safety arrangements already in place."
Daniel looked toward the window.
For the first time, he understood how Rebecca must have felt.
Knowing people were hiding something.
Knowing they were dangerous.
Not knowing what they would do next.
That evening, Hannah called Daniel from Wisconsin.
"Owen remembers Rebecca."
Daniel sat down.
"What?"
"He said she visited him once before the accident."
Daniel closed his eyes.
"Did she?"
"She came with his mother."
"What did she tell him?"
Hannah paused.
"She told him that if he ever felt unsafe, he should remember a word."
Daniel held his breath.
"What word?"
"Bluebird."
He stared at the music box sitting on his desk.
Hannah continued.
"Owen said Rebecca told him that someday somebody might ask him about a missing notebook."
"What notebook?"
"He doesn't know."
Daniel thought of the second copy.
The original files.
The evidence Rebecca might have hidden somewhere else.
"Did he remember anything more?"
"Yes."
Hannah's voice became quiet.
"He said Rebecca told him not to trust the woman with the green ring."
Daniel frowned.
"Green ring?"
"He remembers a big emerald ring. The woman wore it whenever she visited his father."
Marissa owned an emerald ring.
Daniel had given it to her for their first wedding anniversary.
At least, he'd believed he had.
She'd selected it herself.
He'd simply paid for it.
He opened a photograph of their wedding.
Marissa's hand rested against his chest.
On her finger was the ring.
Even then.
Before he'd purchased what she called its matching anniversary band.
Daniel enlarged the image.
He recognized the unusual oval setting.
His blood ran cold.
Marissa hadn't bought a new ring.
She'd brought an old one into their marriage.
A ring Owen remembered from years earlier.
Then Hannah said something that made Daniel sit perfectly still.
"Owen says the woman wore that ring when she told his father she'd found a new family."
Daniel swallowed.
"When?"
May you like
Hannah checked her notes.
"Three months before you met her."
