Chapter 6 - The Safe House
Renick Kavanaugh did not take them back to his estate.
That was the first thing that made Belle believe he was truly afraid.
He made two calls from the hallway. Neither lasted more than fifteen seconds. Then a different vehicle arrived, not the black SUV from earlier but an old gray sedan with a dent above the rear tire and a cracked Red Sox sticker on the bumper.
Belle almost laughed.
Renick saw her expression.
“Armored glass,” he said.
She stopped laughing.
Micah carried his backpack. Belle packed three changes of clothes, Micah’s inhaler, his school folder, their rent receipts, birth certificates, and the coffee tin where she kept emergency cash. Everything important in their life fit into one duffel bag.
That fact humiliated her until she saw Renick looking at the cracked wall above the radiator with a quiet anger that was not directed at her.
“Don’t,” she said.
He turned. “Don’t what?”
“Look at my apartment like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you can solve it by being rich near it.”
He said nothing.
Good.
On the ride across the city, Micah fell asleep with his head in Belle’s lap. Renick sat beside the driver this time too. The driver was a broad-shouldered Black man named Eli who greeted Belle as Mrs. Ashford and Micah as young man before saying nothing else for twenty minutes.
Belle appreciated him immediately.
They crossed into a quieter part of Boston where the houses sat back from the street and the trees looked older than most families. The sedan turned down an alley behind a brick townhouse with dark windows.
“This belongs to you?” Belle asked.
“No,” Renick said. “It belonged to my wife.”
Belle’s anger slipped, just a little.
The inside smelled faintly of lemon oil and dust. White sheets covered most of the furniture. A grand piano stood in the front room, closed. On the wall beside the stairs hung a photograph of a woman laughing with a baby on her hip.
Aisling Kavanaugh had been beautiful, but not in the polished way rich women often were. Her curls were coming loose. Her smile was too wide for elegance. The baby in her arms had gray eyes.
Brinley.
Belle looked away.
Renick noticed.
“She loved this house,” he said.
Belle did not answer.
He led them to a room on the second floor with twin beds, a small lamp, and a painted wooden bird mobile hanging from the ceiling. Micah woke at the sight of it.
“Birds,” he murmured.
Renick’s face softened with something like pain.
“Aisling made those.”
Belle studied him. “For Brinley?”
He nodded.
Micah stepped closer to the mobile but did not touch it. “She painted the wings wrong.”
Belle closed her eyes. “Micah.”
Renick looked at him.
“How?”
Micah pointed sleepily. “Sparrows have darker marks here. These are like swallows.”
For the first time, Renick Kavanaugh almost smiled.
“Aisling would have liked you.”
Micah looked up. “Was she Brinley’s mom?”
“Yes.”
“Did she die?”
Belle inhaled sharply.
But Renick only nodded.
“Yes.”
Micah thought about that. “My dad died too.”
Belle’s chest tightened.
That was not exactly true.
But it was the version Micah knew.
Renick’s gaze shifted to Belle, but he did not ask.
Good.
After Micah washed up and crawled into bed, Belle tucked the blanket around him. He was asleep before she reached the door.
Renick waited in the hall.
“You can lock the door from inside,” he said. “Windows too. Eli is downstairs. Nora is outside. No one comes in without your permission.”
Belle crossed her arms. “Except you?”
“Especially me.”
That answer unsettled her.
He held out a phone. Cheap. New. Still in plastic.
“For emergencies.”
Belle didn’t take it.
“I have a phone.”
“Yours can be tracked.”
She stared at him.
“By who?”
“Anyone with the right price.”
The worst part was he said it like weather.
Belle took the phone.
“I want to speak to Maribel’s daughter,” she said.
Renick’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Why?”
“Because if Maribel is missing, someone should be talking about her like she matters.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
“I’ll arrange it.”
Belle almost thanked him.
She caught herself.
Renick turned to leave.
“Mr. Kavanaugh.”
He stopped.
“Did your aunt hate your daughter?”
His face went still.
“No.”
“Then why would she do it?”
Renick looked down the dark stairwell.
“Because Brinley inherits everything her mother left behind.”
Belle waited.
“And what did her mother leave behind?”
May you like
Renick’s hand tightened on the banister.
“Proof.”
