My Stepfamily Moved In… Weeks Later, My Cat Was Dead

My father stood in the study doorway like he had forgotten how to breathe.

"Nobody touches that cabinet."

I stepped around him. The lock had fresh scratches around it. A drawer hung open.

"When did you last see Mom's will?"

"Two weeks ago. I was updating some insurance forms."

Vanessa appeared behind us carrying grocery bags.

"What happened?"

Dad turned. "Someone broke into the cabinet."

Her brows lifted. "That's awful."

Too calm.

I watched her set the bags down.

"Where were you today?"

She stared at me. "Excuse me?"

"The cabinet was fine this morning."

"I went shopping. Ask the cashier if you want."

"I might."

Dad stepped between us. "Enough."

I wanted to scream at him for still trying to keep the peace, but then he looked at Vanessa.

"Did you know what was in that cabinet?"

"Of course not."

I glanced at the desk.

May used to sit under it whenever Dad worked. A week earlier I had found her pawing at the bottom drawer, agitated, almost frantic. At the time I thought she had heard a mouse.

Now I crouched and ran my fingers along the floor.

Something was wedged beneath the cabinet.

A torn corner of an envelope.

On it was my mother's handwriting.

For Emma.

My throat tightened.

Dad took the paper from me.

"There was no letter for you in the will packet," he said.

"Then what is this?"

Nobody answered.

That evening, I went to the shed alone.

The old pet crate was still there, but the beige nylon tie had been cut off. The broken latch had a sharp gap where a tiny piece of metal was missing.

I photographed everything.

Then I noticed fresh dirt near the back wall.

Someone had recently moved a stack of flowerpots.

Behind them was a plastic storage box I had never seen before.

It was locked.