Chapter 7 - The Letters She Never Sent
They arrested Sheriff Barlow before sunset.
My mother was not arrested.
Not yet.
Rich people are rarely taken in the first wave. They are invited. Questioned. Allowed to call attorneys whose suits cost more than most cars. They are given time to arrange their faces.
But Elena made sure Vivian Alden could not leave the estate.
Two troopers stood at every exit. Her phones were seized. Her study was sealed. Her bedroom was searched by people she could not intimidate with charity boards or old family favors.
I sat in the guesthouse with Noah asleep against my chest, reading Emily’s stolen letters one by one.
There were forty-three.
Forty-three pieces of my wife’s heart locked inside my mother’s safe.
The first letters were bright.
Daniel,
Your son kicked so hard during breakfast that I spilled orange juice on Vivian’s antique table runner. She looked like I had assassinated a president. I laughed until I cried. I wish you had seen it.
Then lonely.
Daniel,
Your mother says satellite calls are difficult where you are. I know that’s probably true, but I miss your voice so badly some nights that I leave the lamp on and pretend you’re just coming home late.
Then afraid.
Daniel,
Caleb came into the nursery today when I was resting. He didn’t know I was awake. He was on the phone saying, “She won’t sign if she reads page four.” When I asked what he meant, he smiled and said pregnancy makes women paranoid.
Then desperate.
Daniel,
I found a locked door in the west wing. Vivian screamed when she saw me near it. Not raised her voice. Screamed. Later she apologized and brought tea. I didn’t drink it.
By the thirtieth letter, Emily had stopped pretending she was safe.
Daniel,
Someone has been logging into my email. Messages I send disappear. Drafts change. Your replies sound wrong. Too short. Too clean. You always ramble when you’re trying not to worry me. These replies don’t ramble.
I pressed my fist against my mouth.
Because she was right.
I did ramble.
I used to send her long, stupid descriptions of sandstorms and bad coffee and the one stray dog outside base that hated everyone but me. The emails I received near the end had sounded like Emily, but flattened. Managed.
My mother had not only taken Emily’s words.
She had answered them.
A knock came at the door.
Elena entered without waiting for permission, carrying a folder and two cups of coffee.
“You need to eat.”
“No.”
“You need to drink this, then eat.”
“I’m reading.”
“I know.” She set the coffee down. “That’s why I’m telling you to stay human while you do it.”
I looked back at the letter in my hand.
“Elena, she thought I abandoned her.”
“No. She questioned it. That’s different.”
“She died thinking I wasn’t coming.”
Elena sat across from me.
“Daniel, listen to me. Whoever did this wanted you trapped inside that guilt. Don’t help them.”
Noah stirred. I lowered my cheek to his head.
“He was going to be taken.”
“Yes.”
“By my mother.”
“Yes.”
“Why isn’t she in cuffs?”
“Because we’re building something that survives her lawyers.”
I hated that answer because it was correct.
Elena opened the folder.
“We pulled preliminary data from the phones in the safe. One belonged to Emily. Two were burners. One has messages between Caleb and Vivian. Another has messages between Vivian and Dr. Hollis.”
“Hollis signed the birth papers?”
“He signed a lot of things.”
“Where is he?”
“Missing.”
The word settled between us.
“Since when?”
“His office says he left for a medical conference yesterday. No conference has him registered. His wife reported him unreachable this morning, then withdrew the concern thirty minutes later.”
“Withdrawn why?”
“According to the call log, she received a call from Vivian.”
I laughed once without humor.
“Elena.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. This is how she wins. People disappear into favors. Into threats. Into silence.”
“Not this time.”
I looked up.
Elena’s face was hard.
“Daniel, your mother’s power depends on everyone believing they are alone when she threatens them. They’re not alone anymore.”
Before I could answer, a state investigator entered.
“We found something in Mrs. Alden’s study.”
He placed a tablet on the table.
On the screen was a paused security video from the night Emily died.
The timestamp read 2:13 a.m.
Emily stood at the foot of the main staircase in a white nightgown, heavily pregnant, one hand braced against the wall.
My mother stood before her.
Caleb was behind them.
Dr. Hollis stood near the parlor doors.
There was no sound.
The investigator pressed play.
Emily tried to move past my mother.
Vivian grabbed her arm.
Emily pulled away.
Caleb stepped forward.
Then Emily reached into the pocket of her robe and removed something small.
A flash drive.
The same one from the safe.
My mother slapped her.
Hard.
Emily stumbled.
Dr. Hollis looked toward the camera.
And then the video cut to black.
May you like
I stared at the frozen screen.
The coffee Elena brought went cold.
