at her. “Do you remember your father talking about any case more than another?
“No,” she said. “He suffered from dementia. It came early, in his sixties. We lost many good years with him, sadly. There might have been cases he intended to work on, but never got to. I’m not certain. But he wouldn’t have put something in the space behind the wall unless it held great importance to him.”
My grandfather had also had dementia. Grandma had started to notice when he kept putting cereal boxes in the refrigerator. Maybe Lillian’s father had simply tucked the files away for no apparent reason, or maybe he had known his mind was ailing and was attempting to preserve them before someone else destroyed the truth. The air in the room felt thick, eerily so. I tucked the loose pages back inside the briefcase and stood up. “Do you mind if I take these with me and go through them at the office? I’ll return them to you, of course. And I promise to keep them safe.”
“Yes, dear,” she said. “If you feel you can bring the truth to light, keep them. My father would be glad to know they’re in good hands.”
We walked out to the stairway, and I looked over my shoulder, feeling the urge to run, to leave the home as quickly as my feet could carry me, but I kept my pace slow and steady.
When we made our way back outside, where the birds chirped and the sun shone down on my face, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Can I drive you back, honey?” Lillian asked, walking to the car.
“That would be wonderful, thank you,” I said, opening the passenger door of the Volvo. I turned to look at the house a final time, eyeing the upper bedrooms cautiously. Are we being watched? Silly, I told myself. As Lillian pulled the car out of the driveway, I clasped the briefcase tighter in my arms, knowing I was in possession of something very important. It was up to me to find out why.
Just as I sat down at my desk back at the office, my phone rang. I picked it up, annoyed. I didn’t want to do anything but immerse myself in the contents of the briefcase.
“Claire?” Ethan’s voice sounded far away. A world away. “Honey.”
My heart softened, but I remained silent.
“I tried you at home. I didn’t think I’d find you in the office on a Sunday. I miss you.”
He got my voice message. “I’m working on a story. I miss you too,” I said, caving, willing away the jealousy, the anger that had taken up residence in my heart. I wanted to ask him what he was doing in Portland, and whether Cassandra was part of the equation, but I bit my tongue.
“I spent all day yesterday interviewing candidates for the Journalists’ Guild Scholarship,” he said. “It was grueling.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling relieved. “I thought you were—”
“I’m coming home on the train tonight. I’d love it if we could have dinner.”
My eyes brightened. “You would?”
“Yes,” he continued. “That is, if you want to.”
“I do.”
“Seven o’clock, the Pink Door?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll be waiting.”
I hung up the phone and redirected my attention to the briefcase. Lillian’s father had carried it with him every day of his working life, no doubt. It felt a little like looking inside an old doctor’s bag. You couldn’t pull out the stethoscope without thinking of the physician who had held it up to hearts hundreds of times over. Yes, I could feel Lillian’s father’s presence. Secrets waited inside this case, and I think he wanted me to find them.
Chapter 17
VERA
Lon slept till noon. I watched the clock tick above his head, praying he’d wake soon so he could make the calls he’d promised to make on Daniel’s behalf. People listened to Lon. He was a powerful man.
I sat up straight in my chair as he opened his eyes. He held his hand out to me, gesturing for me to come toward him. The hand that had ravaged me last night. I felt my stomach turn.
“Come here, dollface,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Come lay down beside me.”
“Lon,” I said as sweetly as I could, “you promised that you’d help me find my son. I’ve been very patient.”
“Sure, beautiful,” he said, yawning. “But I don’t get out of bed without breakfast, and”—he winked at me—“a woman.”
I shook my head. “No,” I said firmly, “you promised.”
Lon sat up. His eyes switched from playful to angry. “Who