Chapter 3 - The Nanny Who Never Died
“Say that again.”
Adrian’s voice was almost calm.
Evelyn stood beside the hidden bed, her face streaked with tears.
“Grace Brennan is alive.”
Victor swore under his breath.
Eleanor lowered herself onto the bed.
Adrian stared at Evelyn.
“You expect me to believe two dead women have been living around my daughter?”
“I expect you to believe your family became very good at burying women who knew too much.”
That landed harder than shouting would have.
Adrian turned toward Victor.
“Car.”
Then to Claire.
“You stay here.”
Claire shook her head.
“No.”
It surprised everyone.
Including Claire.
Adrian looked at her.
“My father is protected because of this. Evelyn threatened him because of what I saw. I’m already in it.”
Evelyn gave her a cold look.
“You have no idea what you’re in.”
Claire met her eyes.
“That stopped being your decision when you put that bracelet in my locker.”
Adrian watched Claire for a moment.
Then nodded once.
“Stay near Victor.”
They left within minutes.
Eleanor came too.
She refused Adrian’s offer of an ambulance.
“I lost thirty-four years. I’m not losing tonight.”
The drive north was nearly silent.
Rain streaked the SUV windows.
Adrian sat across from his mother but barely looked at her.
Claire understood.
He had spent his entire adult life grieving a dead woman.
Now she was six feet away.
There were too many questions to ask first.
Finally Adrian spoke.
“Why was Grace declared dead?”
Eleanor answered.
“She wasn’t.”
Victor looked over.
“The police report said her car went into the Merrimack River.”
“Her car did.”
“But not Grace.”
Eleanor nodded.
“Grace knew Evelyn’s father had men watching hospitals and airports. She left everything behind.”
Evelyn sat rigidly near the opposite door.
Adrian looked at her.
“And your father helped convince me Grace died?”
“He paid someone to identify a recovered coat as hers.”
Claire looked at Evelyn.
“You knew?”
“Not then.”
“When did you find out?”
“Three years after Lily disappeared.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“And you said nothing.”
Evelyn’s eyes flashed.
“You keep saying that as if I discovered Lily sitting in a cheerful kitchen eating cookies.”
“What did you discover?”
“My father had Eleanor, Grace, and Lily moving between houses every few months because he was terrified someone would find them.”
“Someone?”
Evelyn laughed bitterly.
“Yes, Adrian. Someone. The problem is that everybody knew your father had enemies, but nobody knew which enemies inherited his secrets.”
Eleanor interrupted.
“Charles Hart also wanted the list.”
Evelyn went quiet.
Claire understood.
Charles Hart.
Evelyn’s father.
The man was no longer merely someone hiding Lily.
He had wanted something from her.
Adrian leaned forward.
“Why did Charles think Lily could lead him to it?”
Eleanor pulled the silver rosary from her coat.
“Because of this.”
She twisted the blue bead.
It opened.
Inside was a tiny empty compartment.
Claire frowned.
Adrian stared.
Eleanor said, “Your father’s list was photographed onto microfilm.”
Victor looked at her sharply.
“You had it?”
“I had one piece.”
“One?”
“There were two.”
Eleanor closed the bead.
“I kept half. The second half was hidden in an object your father would never destroy.”
“What object?”
“A gold pocket watch belonging to his father.”
Adrian frowned.
“My grandfather’s watch disappeared when I was a child.”
“No. I gave it to you the night of the fire.”
Adrian looked stunned.
“I don’t remember that.”
“You were eight years old. You were asleep. I put it inside the lining of your winter coat.”
Victor suddenly turned around from the front passenger seat.
“What color?”
Adrian frowned.
“What?”
“Your coat. What color was it?”
Eleanor answered.
“Dark green.”
Victor’s face drained.
Claire noticed.
“So?”
Victor stared at Adrian.
“The coat was donated.”
Adrian went still.
“After the fire?”
Victor nodded.
“Your father ordered all of Eleanor’s things removed. Your old clothes too.”
“To where?”
“Saint Bartholomew’s parish drive.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
Charles Hart had spent years looking for a watch that had disappeared into a church clothing donation.
Then Claire remembered something.
“The drawings.”
Adrian looked at her.
“What?”
“In Lily’s room. There was one I didn’t understand.”
She pictured the wall.
A little girl.
An older woman.
A clock with no numbers.
And beside them, something green.
“I thought it was grass.”
Eleanor whispered, “A coat.”
Evelyn looked at her.
“Lily knew about the watch?”
“I told Grace the story.”
“Why?”
“Because Charles was questioning Lily about things in Adrian’s childhood. Grace wanted to know what he was searching for.”
Adrian’s hands curled.
“He questioned my daughter?”
Evelyn looked away.
“My father frightened her. He never struck her. But yes.”
Adrian’s voice dropped.
“That distinction matters to you?”
“It has to.”
Evelyn looked at him then.
“Because if I admit every terrible thing my father did without distinguishing what I stopped from what I failed to stop, then there’s no reason for you to believe anything else I say.”
Adrian studied her.
For the first time, Claire saw something besides hatred between them.
History.
Maybe even grief.
Evelyn had loved her father.
And feared him.
Both could be true.
The SUV turned onto a narrow coastal road.
Twenty minutes later they reached Charles Hart’s old house.
The front door was unlocked.
Adrian entered first.
“Lily?”
Nothing.
They searched room by room.
No Lily.
No Grace.
In the kitchen, two mugs of cocoa were still warm.
On the table sat a half-finished grilled cheese sandwich cut into triangles.
Claire touched the plate.
“She was here.”
Adrian saw something near the chair.
A navy child’s coat.
He picked it up.
Inside the pocket was a small plastic hair clip and a folded ticket.
Victor opened it.
A commuter rail ticket.
Purchased that evening.
Destination: Boston.
Adrian stared at it.
“Grace took her back.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Grace would never take Lily into Boston without telling Eleanor.”
Claire noticed another object beneath the table.
A photograph.
She picked it up.
An old Polaroid.
Eight-year-old Adrian stood beside Eleanor in front of a Christmas tree.
He wore a dark green coat.
Pinned to the coat was a round brass button shaped like an anchor.
Claire turned the photograph over.
Fresh pencil writing covered the back.
Not an adult’s handwriting.
Lily’s.
GRACE SAYS THIS IS THE MAN WHO KNOWS WHERE GRANDMA HID THE WATCH.
Adrian read it twice.
Victor whispered, “What man?”
Claire studied the photograph.
There were only Adrian and Eleanor.
Then she looked closer.
A reflection appeared in the glass ornament behind them.
A third person.
A young man holding the camera.
Adrian recognized him.
His face hardened.
“My father’s brother.”
Eleanor stared at the reflection.
“Renato.”
Victor looked at Adrian.
“Your uncle Renato has been on the Marchetti board for twenty-seven years.”
Adrian folded the photograph carefully.
“And he had dinner with Lily three weeks before she disappeared.”
Evelyn whispered, “Adrian…”
He turned.
She looked terrified.
“My father wasn’t afraid of strangers finding Lily.”
A long silence.
“He was afraid of Renato.”
At that moment, Claire noticed writing pressed faintly into the wooden table beneath the photograph, as if Lily had written on paper resting there.
She angled the lamp.
Four words appeared.
May you like
HE KNOWS I’M ALIVE.
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