Chapter 1 - THE WORDS HE HAD HEARD BEFORE
“The sad man is outside.”
I stopped folding the towel in my hands.
Lily was still pressed against the staff-room window.
“Come away from there.”
“But he’s getting wet.”
“He chose to sit outside.”
“That doesn’t mean he wants to be wet.”
At six years old, that was apparently irrefutable logic.
I turned to stack the towels.
That was my mistake.
By the time I looked back, Lily was gone.
The staff-room door swung slowly behind her.
“Lily!”
I ran into the corridor.
A security guard near the kitchen entrance turned at the sound of my voice.
Then his face changed.
Because through the glass doors we could see my six-year-old daughter crossing Adrien Voss’s enormous driveway carrying her tiny yellow duck umbrella.
In a thunderstorm.
Toward him.
“Oh God.”
I ran.
But Lily reached him first.
Adrien sat on the bottom stone step, water streaming from his dark hair. His whiskey glass hung loosely between his fingers.
Lily stopped directly in front of him.
The umbrella barely covered one of them.
Adrien slowly lifted his eyes.
Lily stretched onto her toes and positioned the duck over his head.
“Don’t cry, mister.”
His face changed.
“I’ll keep you dry.”
The glass slipped from Adrien’s hand.
It struck the stone and shattered.
Every guard around the driveway froze.
So did I.
Adrien wasn’t looking at Lily anymore.
He was staring through her.
At a memory.
“What did you say?”
Lily frowned.
“I said don’t cry.”
His voice dropped.
“The rest.”
“I’ll keep you dry.”
Lightning flashed.
For one second, Adrien looked genuinely frightened.
Not angry.
Not dangerous.
Frightened.
I reached Lily and grabbed her gently.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Voss. She shouldn’t be out here.”
Adrien stood.
“No.”
His gaze stayed on Lily.
“Who taught you that?”
She shrugged.
“Nobody.”
“Your mother?”
“No.”
“Your father?”
Lily looked down.
“My daddy is in heaven.”
Adrien’s expression softened immediately.
I pulled her closer.
“We’re going inside.”
Then Adrien noticed the umbrella.
He reached toward the plastic handle but stopped before touching it.
“Where did you get that?”
“It’s mine,” Lily said.
“I know. Where?”
“Church.”
I answered for her.
“A rummage sale at St. Agnes. Three dollars.”
Adrien’s face lost its color.
“What church?”
“St. Agnes on Halsted.”
He turned toward one of his guards.
“Call Luca.”
The guard moved instantly.
I stared.
“What is going on?”
Adrien looked at the umbrella again.
Then he slowly reached underneath its yellow fabric.
Near one metal support was a faded mark I had never noticed.
Two letters written in permanent ink.
A.V.
Adrien touched them with one finger.
His hand started shaking.
“My daughter wrote those.”
My chest tightened.
I knew Adrien had once been married.
I knew there had been some family tragedy years earlier.
Nobody in the house discussed it.
“How old is your daughter?”
His eyes remained on the umbrella.
“She was six.”
Was.
The word landed heavily.
“Eight years ago, her car went off a bridge during a storm.”
I swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“They recovered my wife.”
He looked at Lily.
“They never recovered Ava.”
The rain hammered around us.
Then Adrien whispered:
“And the last thing Ava ever said to me before that night was, ‘Don’t cry, Daddy. I’ll keep you dry.’”
Lily stared at him.
Adrien stared at the initials inside her three-dollar umbrella.
May you like
And suddenly I understood why the most feared man in Chicago looked terrified.
The umbrella my daughter had bought at a church rummage sale had once belonged to the little girl Adrien Voss had buried without ever finding her body.
