Chapter 4 - Grace's Box
My first wife, Grace, had been dead for four years.
I still could not hear her name unexpectedly without feeling something break open inside me.
"Where did you get that box?" I asked.
Vanessa glanced at the screen. "I don't remember."
"It says Whitmore & Hale. Grace's estate attorneys."
"Then it was probably in storage."
I stood. "Where is it now?"
"Ethan, Ella needs a doctor. Why are you chasing boxes?"
Because people who tell the truth do not tell you where not to look.
I called our house manager, Maria Alvarez.
No answer.
That was strange. Maria had worked for my family for twelve years and answered me even when she was mad at me.
I called again.
Voicemail.
Ella touched my sleeve. "Maria isn't here."
"Where is she?"
Vanessa answered too quickly. "I gave her the week off."
Ella shook her head.
"No. You told her not to come back."
I turned slowly.
Vanessa's jaw tightened. "Maria was undermining me."
"When did you fire her?"
"I did not fire her."
"Ella just said you did."
"Ella is eight."
Ella flinched at the contempt in that sentence.
That did it.
"Pack a bag," I told Vanessa.
Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
"You are leaving this house tonight."
She stared at me for two long seconds, then laughed. "This is my home too."
"Not tonight."
I took Ella upstairs to change while Vanessa called someone from the guest room. As I passed the laundry hall, I noticed a folded note pushed under a cabinet.
It was in Maria's handwriting.
May you like
Mr. Brooks - if you come home and I am gone, please check the old nursery closet. I was afraid to leave this where she could find it.
Under the note was a tiny brass key.
