Chapter 7 - THE PROMISE MY FATHER BROKE
“What did my father make you promise?”
Margaret Mercer looked at Lily.
The little girl had gone back to coloring, but her hand trembled.
I gently moved the photograph away so she wouldn't have to keep looking at the men in it.
“Mrs. Mercer,” I said softly, “please.”
Margaret sat across from me.
“Your father knew where Caroline was.”
For a moment, I couldn't understand the words.
“He knew?”
She nodded.
“All three years.”
I stared.
My father had held me while I cried over Daniel's death.
He had promised to find out why the fire started.
He had sat beside Sophie at Christmas and told her that her daddy loved her.
And he'd known that one of the people connected to Daniel's final night was alive.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
Margaret wiped her eyes.
“Because Caroline was frightened.”
“Of Peter?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Lily.
She had begun drawing a small blue house.
“She was afraid Peter would find her?”
Margaret hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
“She was afraid of what would happen to Lily.”
I frowned.
“What does Lily have to do with the missing money?”
Margaret looked at her granddaughter.
“Sweetheart, why don't you show Emily the garden?”
Lily considered this.
Then she took Margaret's hand.
We stepped into a small courtyard.
Rain dripped from the branches of a maple tree.
There was a wooden bench beneath an awning.
Lily sat down and began arranging fallen leaves in a row.
Margaret remained standing.
“Caroline had evidence that Peter was stealing,” she said. “But the money wasn't the only problem.”
“What else?”
“He'd been using the company's trucks to move goods for a contractor who wasn't paying the required taxes or insurance.”
I stared.
“Illegal shipments?”
“Some were. Caroline discovered the invoices didn't match the cargo records.”
“Was Daniel involved?”
“No. He was trying to stop it.”
I leaned against the bench.
“Then why did Dad stay silent?”
Margaret's voice softened.
“Because your father had signed the original contract.”
The words struck me.
“What?”
“He didn't know it was being abused. But his signature was on the agreement.”
I thought of Dad.
Strict.
Proud.
Obsessed with the family name.
He'd built his entire life around the belief that a Harrington kept his word.
And now I was learning that his signature had helped make Peter's scheme possible.
“Was Dad protecting himself?”
Margaret shook her head.
“He was protecting the employees. The bank threatened to call the company loans if the contract violations became public before they could be corrected.”
I looked at her.
“So he let me believe Daniel died in an accident?”
“He believed the fire was an accident.”
“Did Caroline?”
Margaret didn't answer immediately.
“Caroline believed someone had locked the records room.”
My stomach tightened.
“Locked it?”
She nodded.
“Daniel had gone inside to retrieve the original shipping logs. Caroline was waiting outside with Lily.”
I looked at the little girl.
She was carefully placing two yellow leaves beside a red one.
“Where was Peter?”
“Caroline said she saw him near the rear entrance.”
“And Evan?”
Margaret exhaled.
“He was there too.”
I closed my eyes.
The photograph from the wedding returned to me.
Daniel.
Peter.
Evan.
All three smiling.
All three hiding something.
I looked at Lily.
“Why did she draw a man with a watch?”
Margaret's expression changed.
“Because someone else was wearing Daniel's watch that night.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“What?”
“Caroline told me Daniel gave his watch to someone earlier that evening.”
“Who?”
“She wouldn't say.”
I thought of the cracked crystal.
The stopped hands.
The little screw.
Suddenly, the watch seemed less like a keepsake and more like a question.
I took it from my pocket.
Margaret stared.
“That's it.”
I showed her the broken back.
“Daniel's?”
She nodded.
I turned it over.
The hands still pointed to 4:17.
But the back had a tiny engraving I'd never noticed.
Three letters.
D.E.H.
Daniel Edward Hayes.
My husband.
Margaret touched the engraving.
“Caroline said Daniel marked the watch so she could recognize it.”
“Recognize it where?”
“On the wrist of the person helping them.”
I looked up sharply.
“Someone helping them?”
Margaret nodded.
“Daniel was supposed to meet someone that evening. Someone who could get the records out safely.”
My mind raced.
Was it Evan?
Was it my father?
Had Peter been involved in a plan to expose his own wrongdoing?
I looked at the photograph again.
Evan's wrist was bare.
Peter wore a gold watch.
Daniel wore his silver Hamilton.
But photographs could tell only part of a story.
“What happened to Caroline afterward?”
Margaret looked toward Lily.
“She went into hiding under another name. Your father arranged it.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“You said Dad knew.”
“He did. He wouldn't tell me.”
I struggled to control my anger.
“Then how was she supposed to get her daughter back?”
Margaret's face crumpled.
“She was supposed to return when the financial investigation ended.”
“And it never ended.”
“No.”
“Because Peter stopped it?”
Margaret nodded.
“Your father tried to restart it. Then he became ill.”
I sat beside Lily.
She looked up at me.
Her eyes were sad but curious.
I pointed to the blue house on her paper.
“Is that where you lived?”
She nodded.
“Was your mommy there?”
Another nod.
I hesitated.
“Do you miss her?”
Lily's face changed.
Her lips trembled.
Then she wrote something on the paper.
SHE SAID SHE WOULD COME BACK.
I swallowed hard.
“I believe she wanted to.”
Lily stared at me.
Then she took my hand.
For the first time since I'd arrived, she made a sound.
A small, broken whisper.
“Grandpa.”
Margaret covered her mouth.
I leaned closer.
“Grandpa Harrington?”
Lily nodded.
Then she pointed at the watch.
“He had it,” she whispered.
I froze.
“Your grandpa?”
She shook her head.
“Your grandpa.”
My father.
I stared at the little girl.
She hadn't spoken in three years.
And now she was telling me that my father had possessed Daniel's watch.
Margaret began crying quietly.
Lily reached into the pocket of her cardigan.
She pulled out a tiny folded photograph.
The paper was worn soft from years of handling.
She handed it to me.
It showed my father standing outside a small blue house.
Beside him was Caroline.
And between them stood Lily.
On the back was a date.
Six months after Daniel died.
Underneath, in my father's handwriting, were the words:
I KNOW WHO LOCKED THE DOOR.
I looked at Margaret.
“Why would Dad write that and do nothing?”
She shook her head.
“Emily, he didn't do nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
“He left a record.”
“Where?”
Margaret reached into her shopping bag.
Then she handed me a small cream-colored card.
It was an old library card.
My father's name was printed at the top.
Below it was the title of a book.
The Last Good Season.
A novel he'd read every summer.
At the bottom was a handwritten note.
RETURN TO EMILY WHEN SHE STOPS BELIEVING PETER.
My eyes filled.
I looked at Margaret.
“When did Dad give you this?”
“Two weeks before he died.”
I stared at the card.
Then I noticed something written in the corner.
A date.
The day after my wedding.
Yesterday.
May you like
And beside it, one instruction:
ASK LAURA ABOUT THE WEDDING GIFT.
