Chapter 11 - The Bell on the Paper
Mara enlarged the drawing on her screen. In one corner, beneath the crayon clouds, was a small blue stamp shaped like a cracked bell.
"I've seen that," I said. "It's on Daniel's calendar. The storage receipt."
River Records was a document-storage business in a converted church. The blue bell was its logo. Isabel had left the drawing in the van as a clue; the words on its back were in her handwriting.
"Daniel used to tell her that her daddy didn't know she was there," Elena said. "He promised somebody would tell him."
An investigator searched the facility after obtaining access from the owner and found signs someone had been held in a back room: a child's blanket, two paper cups, a broken phone. Staff confirmed that Richard's driver had rented a loading bay and collected boxes that morning. Security cameras captured the van leaving with two women and a child.
"Rosa and Isabel," Elena whispered. "They're alive."
"The footage doesn't prove they're safe," Mara cautioned. "But it gives the police a route."
River Records held more than cameras. Daniel had prepaid a storage envelope in Elena's name, with instructions that only Elena or a court officer could collect it. The employee brought it out, but the seal had been cut recently.
Inside was a receipt and an empty sleeve for a memory card.
"Richard got there first," Vincent said on the call.
"Maybe," Mara replied. "But the receipt says the sleeve was accessed twice. The first signature belongs to the owner. The second was entered yesterday."
She showed me the digital log.
May you like
DANIEL BENNETT.
My husband had been dead for months. Yet someone was still using his name to open doors.
