Chapter 10 - The Second Orange Vest
The marina outside Monterey smelled of saltwater, fuel, and old wood.
Fishing boats rocked gently against the docks.
Seagulls circled above a row of weathered storage buildings.
At 8:40 on Wednesday morning, detectives approached a small blue cabin beside the harbor.
They had located a vehicle registered to a company associated with Frank Doyle.
They also had evidence that he had visited Silas Mercer shortly before Mercer was found unconscious.
Frank's cabin was empty.
His coffee was still warm.
A television was playing in the living room.
And on the kitchen counter sat a newspaper with Nathan Vale's photograph on the front page.
Someone had left in a hurry.
Bennett examined the room.
"Check the docks."
A uniformed officer approached from outside.
"Detective, we found something."
He led her toward a narrow storage shed behind the cabin.
Inside were fishing rods, fuel containers, and several old boxes.
One box was marked:
LAKE HOUSE - MAY.
Bennett stopped.
She photographed the label before opening it.
Inside were faded towels.
A pair of women's sandals.
A damaged waterproof watch.
And a bright-orange flotation vest.
Its left side had collapsed.
There were three tiny punctures in the material.
Bennett felt a cold wave move through her.
The vest from Hannah's death had supposedly remained in police evidence storage.
But this was another one.
The spare.
Hannah's notebook had warned:
Don't trust the spare.
Bennett examined the inside label.
A faded black marker showed two letters.
H.V.
Hannah Vale.
She immediately instructed the evidence team to preserve the box and its contents.
Then she called Nathan.
He answered on the first ring.
"Did you find Frank?"
"Not yet."
"Then what?"
"We found another orange vest."
Nathan went silent.
Bennett continued.
"It appears to have been stored with belongings associated with the lake house."
"Is it Hannah's?"
"We can't establish that yet."
Nathan took a shaky breath.
"What does it mean?"
"It may give us a way to compare the old evidence with what happened to Ivy."
"Did it have holes?"
"Yes."
"Three?"
Bennett paused.
"Three."
Nathan closed his eyes.
For eight years, he had tried to remember the details.
The vest.
The lake.
His mother's tears.
The doctor's explanation.
But memories changed over time.
He knew that.
He needed evidence.
Now something physical had survived.
Something that Eleanor might have believed was gone forever.
"Detective, can you compare the punctures?"
"We're arranging that."
"And Frank?"
"We're still looking."
Nathan leaned against the kitchen counter of the temporary house Claire had arranged.
Ivy sat on the floor nearby, drawing flowers.
Rosa was helping her choose crayons.
Nathan watched his daughter for a moment.
Then asked:
"Do you think Frank knows we're looking for him?"
"Very likely."
"What happens if Eleanor finds him first?"
Bennett didn't answer immediately.
"We're taking that possibility seriously."
After the call, Nathan approached Ivy.
"Hey, pumpkin."
She looked up.
"Daddy, I made you a picture."
He sat beside her.
"What is it?"
"A big house."
"Whose house?"
"Ours."
Nathan smiled.
"Looks nice."
Ivy pointed to three figures beside the house.
"That's you."
"Okay."
"That's me."
"And who's that?"
"Miss Rosa."
Nathan laughed softly.
"Good choice."
Then Ivy pointed to a fourth figure.
A woman with long brown hair.
Nathan's smile faded.
"Who's she?"
Ivy shrugged.
"A mommy."
He looked at the picture.
"You drew a mommy?"
"Uh-huh."
"Why?"
Ivy looked at him as though the answer were obvious.
"Because houses need people who love you."
Nathan swallowed.
He kissed the top of her head.
"You're right."
Ivy returned to drawing.
Then she asked:
"Daddy, can Grandma come to our house?"
Nathan felt his chest tighten.
He chose his words carefully.
"Not right now, sweetheart."
"Why?"
"Because Grandma made some unsafe choices."
Ivy considered this.
"Like the swimming coat?"
"Yes."
She nodded seriously.
"Miss Rosa said we don't keep broken things on our bodies."
Nathan smiled.
"Miss Rosa is very smart."
Ivy looked at her drawing again.
"Can Grandma fix her choices?"
Nathan stared at the little girl.
Three years old.
And already asking the question he had spent his whole life trying to answer.
"I don't know, sweetheart."
Ivy thought about that.
Then she returned to her crayons.
Nathan watched her.
He wanted to promise that everything would be fine.
He wanted to say that no one would ever hurt her again.
But he had learned something painful.
Love wasn't a promise that bad things would never happen.
Love was the decision to protect someone even when doing so meant facing the truth about your own family.
That afternoon, Bennett received the first forensic comparison.
The vest recovered from Frank's storage shed had been damaged by a narrow tool.
The punctures were similar in appearance to those on Ivy's vest.
However, the age of the damage prevented investigators from identifying a single instrument conclusively.
Bennett read the report carefully.
It was not definitive proof.
But it was another piece of the timeline.
The laboratory also found old biological material on the inner collar.
Testing would take time.
Then another investigator entered her office.
"Detective, you need to see this."
He placed a photograph on her desk.
It showed the inside of the old vest.
Near the label, faint handwriting had survived.
Four words.
Written in waterproof marker.
LOOK INSIDE THE DOCK.
Bennett stared.
"Who wrote that?"
"We don't know."
She picked up the phone.
"Nathan, I need to ask you something."
He answered immediately.
"What?"
"Did Hannah ever hide things at the lake house?"
Nathan frowned.
"Why?"
"We found a message inside the vest."
"What message?"
Bennett read it.
Nathan's breath caught.
He remembered Hannah laughing beside the dock one summer.
She had been teaching him how to fix a loose wooden plank.
"People hide things in the strangest places," she had said.
He remembered asking what she meant.
She had smiled.
"If I told you, it wouldn't be a hiding place."
Nathan stood slowly.
"Detective."
"Yes?"
"There's an old storage compartment beneath the dock."
Bennett leaned forward.
"Where?"
"On the north side."
"Can you identify it?"
"Yes."
Nathan paused.
Then added:
"But there's something you should know."
"What?"
"My mother had that dock rebuilt two weeks after Hannah died."
Bennett's expression tightened.
"Do you know who did the construction?"
Nathan closed his eyes.
He remembered the company truck.
The uniforms.
The man supervising the work.
"Frank Doyle."
May you like
Bennett stood.
"Then we need to find out what he buried underneath it."
