“Witness to what?”
“Not what. Who.”
My chest tightened.
Thomas stood and walked slowly toward a bookshelf. From behind a row of music journals, he removed a sealed envelope.
Claire’s handwriting covered the front.
For Daniel, when Emma is old enough.
I reached for it.
Thomas did not release it.
“She did not want you to read this while grief controlled your decisions.”
“My wife has been gone five years.”
“And grief does not follow calendars.”
Mercer stepped closer.
“Mr. Vale, if that envelope contains evidence related to criminal conduct, you cannot continue withholding it.”
Thomas let go.
My name trembled slightly in Claire’s handwriting.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter and a photograph.
The photograph showed Claire standing outside Westbridge beside a woman I had never seen. Between them was a young girl of perhaps seven or eight.
On the back, Claire had written:
The first Emma Carter.
I read the words again.
“What does this mean?”
Thomas sat down.
“Read the letter.”
My hands felt strangely unsteady as I unfolded it.
Daniel,
