Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
CADEN
“Don’t touch them,” Von warns.
“I know,” I snap.
“Clearly you don’t since you touched the first one.”
“I didn’t know what I was looking at,” I say. “There was a lot of other stuff in that drawer.”
“This is what you’ve been doing all summer?” Finn says, staring at the murder board.
I didn’t expect to have so much company when I raced home after talking to Grace. But Von and Finn were talking in the front parlor and of course went into busybody mode the moment they saw the look on my face.
I went straight to the blue study and used a couple of paperclips to pick the lock on the bottom drawer of the desk. The drawer was organized in a way that I recognized as my mother’s style. She had a pattern of fitting things together, always grouping similar colors or shapes. The contents didn’t seem all that special—there was an old candle, half burned down, in one corner on top of a round tin box of marbles like something Mom kept from her childhood. A small figurine of a dancing girl in a pink and a rabbit was perched on top of a mauve folder with a copy of her will and some other business papers. But when I took everything out, at the very bottom of the drawer, underneath the business papers, was an unmarked envelope. Inside were three sheets of paper. I took them out and unfolded the first one.
Marion—
I think about you all the time. The look you gave me yesterday told me you think of me too. Do not deny our love.
“Drop it,” Von had said instantly. I did as I was told, and the paper fluttered to the desk. Von grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk and used it to pinch the corner of the second sheet of paper and hold it up.
Finn and I had huddled around her as we all read the second letter.
Marion—
Why can you not accept we were meant to be together? I would do anything for you. Did you receive my gift? No one understands you the way I do.
“What are these?” Finn said.
“Love letters?” I suggested.
“Hm,” Von had said, her brow furrowed. She placed the second letter next to the first and used the tissue to grab the final one.
Marion—
Our love is eternal. Why do you resist it? I know you feel the same. Surrender to the inevitable. I can’t wait another day. I must be with you.
“Call the sheriff,” Von had said, switching into lawyer mode. I immediately called Noah.
Now, my brother, sister, and I stare at the three letters, laid out side by side.
“There could be fingerprints,” Von says. “Or DNA.” She leans down and studies the first letter.
Finn looks up, his expression fraught. “Was Mom having an affair?”
Von and I glance at each other. Was she? I want to say absolutely not. One of the very last conversations I had with my mother was about the improbability of her and Dad’s love and yet how strong their relationship was.
But what do I know? It’s not like she would have told me if she’d been cheating. And why keep the letters in a locked drawer?
“Hm,” Von says again, reading over the second letter now. “These don’t sound like an affair to me. More like unrequited love on the part of the letter writer. There’s no signature. There’s no date. We have no idea when she received them.”
“Yeah, maybe they’re old,” Finn says, clearly relieved that an affair seems off the table. “I mean, who writes letters anymore anyway?”
“People who want to ensure their anonymity,” Von says. “Emails can be traced.”
“How old though?” I ask. “Like from before she was married?”
“I don’t think so,” Von says. “The pages would be more yellowed if they were that old. And probably on a different kind of printer paper too. These look fairly recent.”
“Are you an expert on printer paper?”
“You wouldn’t believe the kind of evidence that can make a difference at trial,” Von says. “I once got a client off because of typesetting.”
I find myself kind of impressed. “Seriously?”
“The law is a weird and wonderful thing,” she says.
The doorbell rings, echoing through the house. Seems like Noah has finally arrived.
“I’ll get the door,” Von says with authority, storming out of the room.
Finn looks at me, his expression pained. “What does this mean?” he says. “Someone was in love with Mom?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I think Von is right though—the letters seem kind of one-sided.”
“And aggressive,” Finn says. “ Surrender to the inevitable doesn’t sound very romantic to me. More like a stalker or something.”
“But why keep a stalker’s letters?” I ask.
Neither of us have an answer to that. How could the police have missed this? Why didn’t they investigate the house more thoroughly?
“What made you think to look in that drawer?” Finn asks.
“Secrets,” I say.
“Huh?”
There’s the pounding of feet down the hall and then Sheriff Briggs appears in the doorway, Noah right behind him with three other officers.
“Caden, Finn, step out here please,” the sheriff says curtly. My brother and I do as we’re asked just as Dad comes striding down the hall. I didn’t realize he was home.
“What the hell is going on?” he demands.
“Your son found something, Russell,” the sheriff says. Dad looks at Finn who points at me.
“Found what?” Dad says.
No one answers him as Sheriff Briggs enters the study. Von goes with him.
“Stay back, young lady,” the sheriff says.
Von’s glare could melt metal. “I am the attorney for this family,” she says. “I’m going to ensure this evidence is properly collected.”
The sheriff puts on a pair of latex gloves and beckons to Noah who hurries forward with evidence bags.
“My brother handled this one briefly when we first found them,” Von says, pointing to the first letter.
One by one, the letters are deposited into the clear bags.
“What are those?” Dad snaps. “Let me see them.”
Apparently, the sheriff is still under Dad’s thumb. He holds the letters up so Dad can read them. I watch my father’s face slowly darken, until he’s practically beet-red.
“What the fuck is this,” he says in a low growl.
“We don’t know, Dad,” I say.
“You found these?” he says. I nod. He turns to the sheriff. “What does this mean?”
“We aren’t sure yet. We’ve got to get these to the lab for processing.” Sheriff Briggs puts a hand on Dad’s shoulder. “This is the first break we’ve had in the case in years, Russ. Caden did good.”
“And why didn’t you find these?” Dad says acidly. The sheriff blanches. “Why is it that my son has found these crucial pieces of information and not the fucking police force?”
My thoughts exactly.
“There was no reason to search the house,” the sheriff protests. “The burglar didn’t—our theory was—we had the security camera footage from the back doors to the home. No one entered or exited your house that morning except you and Marion.”
“It seems like you were all so married to this burglar theory, you didn’t stop to consider anything else,” Von says. “I’ll be escorting this evidence to the lab with your officers to ensure no further screwups on the part of the MBSD.”
“That won’t be necessary little lad?—”
“Sheriff, if you call me a little lady, I will file so many lawsuits against the department you’ll be drowning in paperwork until Christmas,” Von snaps. “Like you said, this is the first break in my mother’s case in years. You were all about to give up and let it die as a cold case until my brother showed up and did your jobs for you. I’m not letting those letters out of my sight until they have been handed over to the lab technicians. I’m not about to let a murderer get away on some technicality.”
I was going to insist on going with them but clearly Von is the better option. It’s kind of nice how in sync our family is in this moment. I flash her a grateful smile.
Sheriff Briggs sighs. “Very well. Patterson, you’re coming with me. Davis, Rodriguez, Falco, I want this study searched from top to bottom. Everything by the book.”
“Yes sir,” one of the deputies says as the others nod.
Sheriff Briggs turns to my father. “If there’s anywhere else Marion might have kept things, I want you to show these men, okay?”
Dad clenches his jaw and nods.
Von stalks off down the hall with the sheriff. Noah gives me a half wave. I hope this isn’t one of those “police procedure” situations where he won’t tell me what’s going on. I want to know what the lab finds as soon as the results are in, procedure be damned.
I take out my phone, instinctively wanting to tell Isla about what’s happened, before remembering she hates me and doesn’t want to speak to me ever again.
Dad is staring into the study as the deputies begin to tear the place apart, opening every drawer, looking through the bookshelves. One is examining my murder board with an indecipherable expression. Another picks up the photograph of Mom and Dad on their wedding day.
“Don’t touch that,” Dad snaps and the deputy looks up, surprised.
I put my hand on my father’s shoulder. “Come on, Dad,” I say. “Let’s leave them to it.”
I may not be the Magnolia Bay Sheriff’s Department’s biggest fan right now, but hovering and snapping at these officers isn’t going to help anything. My father’s back stiffens.
“Fine,” he says, shrugging me off and stalking down the hall. Finn and I follow him to the kitchen, where Dad strides out the back door. We watch through the windows as he crosses the lawn, disappearing into Mom’s garden. Finn slumps into one of the stools while I lean against the fridge, my head spinning.
“What do we do now?” Finn asks.
“We make sure the police do their job,” I say. “Where else do you think Mom might have kept stuff she didn’t want anyone to know about?”
“I don’t know.” Finn’s face goes tight. “I didn’t think Mom was the kind of person who kept secrets.”
Me neither. But it looks like we were wrong.
Even still, we’re one step closer to getting answers.
We have a lead.
For the first time in five years, my family has hope.