Chapter 7 - The Second Box
Maya drove me back to the hospital because she didn’t trust me behind the wheel after the hearing.
Neither did I.
“There’s another box,” I told her as soon as we were in the parking garage.
Maya stopped walking. “Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who said this?”
“Taylor.”
Maya looked toward the courthouse doors, where reporters had begun gathering despite the sealed nature of the child welfare case. Someone always leaked something in a town like ours.
“What exactly did she say?”
“That Evelyn would come for it.”
Maya’s face darkened. “Then we need to find out what it contains before Evelyn does.”
At the hospital, Lily was eating orange Jell-O with the seriousness of a scientist conducting research. Her color had improved. Her fingers were warm again. But when someone rolled a metal cart past the room, she startled so badly the spoon fell from her hand.
I cleaned it up and pretended not to see the tears she was trying to hide.
“You okay, bug?”
She nodded too fast.
Maya stayed near the doorway. “Hi, Lily. I’m Maya. I’m helping your dad make sure everyone listens.”
Lily studied her. “Are you police?”
“No. I’m more annoying than police.”
For the first time in two days, Lily almost smiled.
A child psychologist named Dr. Ruth Calder arrived after lunch. She had a soft gray sweater, red glasses, and a bag full of crayons. She asked me to remain nearby but not answer for Lily.
For forty minutes, Lily drew.
A house.
A garage.
A large rectangle with a black lid.
A stick figure beside it with yellow hair and a smile too wide.
Grandma.
Then she drew another shape.
A small square under stairs.
Dr. Calder pointed. “What’s this?”
Lily pressed the purple crayon so hard it snapped.
“The quiet place.”
I stopped breathing.
Dr. Calder’s voice remained gentle. “Where is the quiet place?”
“At Grandma’s house.”
“What happens there?”
Lily looked at me.
I forced myself to keep my face calm.
“She takes pictures,” Lily whispered. “If you cry, she takes one. If you stop crying, she says you learned.”
Dr. Calder asked, “Did she ever show you pictures of other people?”
Lily nodded.
“Mommy. A boy.”
“Do you know the boy’s name?”
“Henry.”
My hand tightened around the chair.
Dr. Calder made a note.
“Did Grandma say anything about Henry?”
Lily nodded again. “She said he didn’t learn fast enough.”
That night, Detective Barnes called.
“We searched Evelyn’s residence.”
I stepped into the hall. “And?”
“She wasn’t home.”
My pulse quickened. “Where is she?”
“We’re looking.”
“What did you find?”
“A locked room under the basement stairs. Empty recently. Dust outlines suggest storage containers were removed.”
“The second box.”
“Likely.”
“Detective, Lily said Evelyn takes pictures in there.”
Barnes was quiet.
Then he said, “Mr. Mercer, we found a tripod.”
I leaned against the wall.
“And marks on the floor consistent with a chair being placed repeatedly in the same position.”
I closed my eyes.
“Do you think Henry—”
“We don’t know yet.”
But his voice said he did.
After I hung up, I saw Taylor standing at the end of the hall. She had been allowed one supervised visit, but only if Lily consented.
Lily had said no.
Taylor had come anyway and stood outside like a ghost.
“You knew about the room,” I said.
Taylor nodded.
“You didn’t tell them?”
“I forgot how to speak about it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
I wanted to hate her. It would have been easier. Cleaner.
But she looked less like an enemy now and more like the first house Evelyn had burned.
“Where would your mother take the second box?”
Taylor’s eyes filled with a fear I had seen before. In Lily.
“My father’s cabin.”
“Your father is dead.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “That’s why nobody goes there.”
“Where?”
Taylor looked down the hall, as if expecting Evelyn to emerge from the elevator.
“Silver Creek Road. Forty miles west.”
I called Barnes immediately.
But when the police reached the cabin two hours later, they found the front door open.
The fireplace was still warm.
The second box was gone.
On the kitchen table sat one photograph.
Lily, asleep in her hospital bed.
Taken through the window.
May you like
On the back, in Evelyn’s elegant blue handwriting, were six words:
You cannot guard her forever.
