Chapter 7 - Grandpa
Sophie insisted the man called himself Grandpa.
Roman did not believe Arthur was alive.
He could not.
Roman had found his father unconscious.
He had ridden in the ambulance.
He had watched doctors declare Arthur dead.
He had touched the body.
But that night had already resurrected his daughter and his wife.
Reality no longer felt reliable.
“When did you see him?”
Sophie looked at Nora.
“Four days ago.”
Nora stared.
“What?”
“At the lake?”
Sophie nodded.
“You told me you were in the garden.”
“I was.”
“Who was he?”
Sophie looked at Roman.
“He had Grandpa’s face.”
Roman pulled out his phone.
He found an old photograph.
Arthur Vale at sixty.
Silver hair.
Gray eyes.
Tall.
He showed Sophie.
“This man?”
Her eyes widened.
“Yes.”
Claire sat down.
“No.”
Helena whispered.
“Impossible.”
Roman looked at his mother.
“You saw his body.”
“Yes.”
“So did I.”
Claire shook her head.
“This is a trick.”
Sophie frowned.
“He knew things.”
Roman lowered the phone.
“What things?”
“He knew my birthday.”
“That’s public.”
“He knew Mom calls me Birdie.”
Roman looked at Claire.
She was pale.
Only a handful of people knew that nickname.
Sophie continued.
“He knew Dad gave me a yellow blanket when I was a baby.”
Roman’s breathing changed.
The blanket had never appeared in photographs.
He had bought it at an airport after a business trip.
Claire had teased him because it was ugly.
He remembered wrapping infant Sophie in it one night when the nursery heater failed.
“What else?”
Sophie looked down.
“He said you would be angry when you found out.”
“Found out what?”
“That he left you.”
Roman felt something cold move through him.
Helena gripped the back of a chair.
“Where did you give him the music box?”
“At the boathouse.”
“What did he do with it?”
“He put it in a black bag.”
“Then?”
“He told me if anyone asked, I should say I lost it.”
Claire stood abruptly.
“We need to go to Lake Briar.”
Roman looked at Daniel.
“Two vehicles.”
Daniel nodded.
Helena stepped forward.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Roman.”
“No.”
“If Arthur is alive—”
Roman turned.
“You are staying here under guard.”
“He was my husband.”
“And Sophie was my daughter.”
Helena fell silent.
Roman left her there.
Forty minutes later, two black SUVs turned onto the road leading toward Lake Briar.
Roman sat beside Sophie in the rear seat.
Nora was on her other side.
Claire rode in front.
Nobody spoke.
Roman looked out at the dark forest.
He had driven these roads dozens of times without knowing his family was hidden nearby.
That fact would haunt him forever.
The lake house stood at the end of a narrow private road.
Small.
White siding.
Blue shutters.
Nothing about it suggested a hiding place for the daughter of a billionaire.
Roman stepped out.
Sophie pointed.
“That window was my room.”
Roman looked at it.
A paper star was taped to the glass.
His daughter had grown up behind that window.
Birthdays.
Fevers.
Schoolwork.
Nightmares.
All without him.
Claire watched his face.
“I’m sorry.”
Roman said nothing.
They entered.
The house had been searched.
Drawers hung open.
Couch cushions lay on the floor.
Cabinet doors had been ripped from hinges.
Daniel’s team spread out.
Roman followed Sophie upstairs.
Her room was small.
A stuffed rabbit sat on the bed.
Stars were painted across the ceiling.
Roman touched the doorframe.
Pencil marks showed Sophie’s height every year.
Age three.
Age four.
Age five.
Age six.
Age seven.
Roman placed his fingers beside the marks.
He had missed every inch.
Sophie stood behind him.
“Mom measured me.”
Roman nodded.
“I see that.”
“Do you hate her?”
Roman turned.
Claire was downstairs.
He thought carefully.
“I’m angry.”
“At Mom?”
“At a lot of people.”
“Do you hate Grandma?”
Roman crouched.
“I don’t know yet.”
Sophie absorbed that.
Then she nodded.
“Okay.”
A shout came from outside.
“Mr. Vale!”
Roman ran downstairs.
Daniel stood near the boathouse.
The door had been forced.
Inside, blood marked the wooden floor.
Not much.
A few drops.
A smear near the wall.
Daniel pointed toward a broken chair.
“Someone was here.”
Roman saw a length of rope.
Claire entered behind him.
“Arthur?”
“No way to know.”
Nora found something beneath the bench.
A hearing aid.
Roman picked it up.
Arthur had worn one in his left ear.
Roman recognized the model.
Old.
Custom-fitted.
His hand began shaking.
Claire whispered.
“My God.”
Daniel examined the floor.
“Tracks.”
“Two people?”
“At least.”
Roman followed the marks toward the rear door.
Outside, they ended near the water.
A small dock extended into the lake.
At its edge lay the shattered remains of Sophie’s music box.
Claire ran toward it.
She picked up the broken ballerina.
The hidden compartment was empty.
Roman stared across the black water.
Then Sophie spoke behind him.
“He left something.”
Roman turned.
Sophie pointed beneath the dock.
A waterproof plastic container had been taped underneath.
Daniel retrieved it.
Inside was a phone.
Old.
Cheap.
Battery nearly dead.
Roman pressed the power button.
One saved video.
Nothing else.
He opened it.
Arthur Vale appeared on the screen.
Older.
Thin.
Alive.
Roman forgot how to breathe.
Arthur looked directly into the camera.
“If you’re watching this, Roman, then Sophie found you.”
Roman gripped the phone.
Arthur continued.
“And if Sophie found you, we have very little time.”
The video shook as if Arthur kept looking behind him.
“Your mother lied to you.”
“Claire lied to you.”
“I lied to you most of all.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
Arthur leaned closer.
“But none of us is the reason Sophie was taken.”
Roman stared.
Arthur’s next words changed everything again.
“You were.”
May you like
The video ended.
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