Chapter 3 - THE ROOM MY FATHER FORBID US TO ENTER
Our mother's study had been locked for six years.
Not because it held expensive jewelry.
Not because it contained dangerous things.
Because our father couldn't bear to enter it.
At least, that was what he'd always told us.
Her name was Caroline Cavanaugh.
She'd had dark hair, green eyes, and a laugh so loud it embarrassed me when I was little.
She made terrible pancakes.
Loved old mystery novels.
And refused to let anyone eat dinner with a phone in their hand.
When she died in a car accident, our house became silent.
Dad worked.
Adrian became ruthless.
Theo became reckless.
Finn stopped speaking to strangers.
And I learned how to turn sadness into anger.
Now Eleanor was telling us Victor Sloane had changed the locks on Mom's study without our permission.
We returned to Fairhaven Manor after police confirmed Finn was safe.
He ran into Eleanor's arms first.
Not Dad's.
Not Adrian's.
Hers.
She held him tightly, then asked whether he wanted a doctor to check him.
Finn nodded.
Julian stood in the doorway watching.
His expression crumpled.
I'd never seen my father look so alone.
Later, after Finn was examined and settled upstairs, we gathered outside Mom's study.
Julian stared at the new lock.
“Victor had no authorization.”
Adrian looked toward him.
“Then why does he still have access to the house?”
Dad didn't answer.
Theo folded his arms.
“Because you trust him more than us.”
“That's not true.”
Theo laughed bitterly.
“Really? You haven't trusted us with anything since Mom died.”
Julian looked wounded.
But for once, he didn't fight back.
Detective Morgan arranged for the lock and the room's contents to be examined as part of the investigation.
We waited in the hallway.
When the door finally opened, the smell hit me first.
Lavender.
Old books.
Mom's perfume.
My throat closed.
Her desk still stood beside the window.
Her favorite blue chair remained near the fireplace.
But several drawers were empty.
And a rectangular patch of clean wood showed where something had recently been removed.
Eleanor stood beside me.
“What was there?” she asked.
I stared.
“A wooden box.”
She looked toward me.
“What kind?”
“Mom's music box.”
I remembered it clearly.
Dark walnut.
Brass corners.
A tiny ballerina inside.
Mom used to wind it whenever Finn couldn't sleep.
Adrian stepped closer.
“Dad, where is it?”
Julian looked confused.
“I don't know.”
Then Eleanor noticed a folded paper tucked beneath the desk.
It had been overlooked during the search.
She pointed it out to Detective Morgan.
The detective carefully unfolded it.
A handwritten inventory.
At the bottom was a note.
TRANSFER AUTHORIZED — V. SLOANE.
Beside it was a date.
The morning of Mom's funeral.
My heart pounded.
Then I saw the description of the missing item.
ONE WALNUT MUSIC BOX — CONTAINS ORIGINAL TESTIMONY.
I stared at the words.
“What testimony?”
May you like
Julian slowly lowered himself into Mom's blue chair.
And whispered, “Caroline was going to testify against my business partners the week she died.”
