Chapter 7 - LOCKER 214
Union Central Station opened at six.
At six fifteen, Claire and Ethan were standing in front of a private underground vault.
A detective accompanied them.
The key fit locker 214 perfectly.
Inside was a brown leather bag.
Nothing else.
Claire opened it.
A passport.
Cash.
A photograph.
And a handwritten journal.
The passport belonged to Anna Bennett.
It had been issued two years after her supposed death.
Claire stared at the expiration date.
“This proves she survived.”
The detective nodded.
“If this is authentic.”
Claire grabbed the journal.
Most pages contained dates, names, and short notes.
Then she found Eleanor.
Eleanor threatened Jonathan.
Eleanor followed me from the attorney’s office.
Jonathan says he will announce Claire publicly at the winter gala.
Eleanor knows about the trust.
Claire kept turning pages.
Then she stopped.
November 8.
Jonathan is dead.
They say heart attack.
I don’t believe them.
Claire looked at Ethan.
“Your father died November eighth.”
Ethan nodded.
“That was twelve years ago.”
Claire continued reading.
November 9.
I found the medication in Eleanor’s bathroom.
Jonathan was not taking it voluntarily.
November 10.
I copied the medical records.
If something happens to me, Claire must know.
The next page had been torn out.
Claire searched the bag.
Nothing.
Then Ethan picked up the photograph.
It showed Anna standing outside a small cottage.
The photograph looked recent compared with the others.
On the back was an address.
17 Hawthorne Road.
Bellmere.
Claire looked at the detective.
“That’s three hours from here.”
He took the photograph.
“We’ll send local police.”
“No.”
Claire stood.
“I’m going.”
“Claire.”
Ethan spoke carefully.
“If Anna is alive, we don’t know what condition she’s in.”
Claire stared at him.
“For eleven years I thought my mother was buried beneath a stone with her name on it.”
Her voice shook.
“If there is even a one percent chance she is alive, I’m going.”
Three hours later, Claire stood before a white cottage surrounded by pine trees.
The front door was unlocked.
Inside, a kettle was still warm.
A cup of tea sat on the table.
And beside it was a newspaper from that morning.
Claire whispered.
May you like
“Mom?”
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
