Cole searched,” Devon said.
“Now you can stand here while we search the truth.”
Sariah walked into the study.
Cole did not follow until Devon motioned for him.
Behind an oil painting of the estate’s original house was a wall safe.
Sariah entered a code, opened it, and removed a flat gray file sealed with brittle tape.
MICAH CALLAWAY was written across the front in her father’s hand.
Keeler’s composure finally broke.
“That file is private family property.”
Sariah looked at Cole.
“He may be family.”
“He may be a thief wearing something he found in a pawn shop.”
Cole said nothing.
He bent, picked up Rice’s sycamore drawing from the entry table, and folded it carefully along its old crease.
That calm seemed to disturb Keeler more than anger would have.
Sariah broke the seal.
The first document was a typed statement dated nineteen years earlier.
It claimed Micah had stolen money from a Callaway investment account and fled after being confronted.
At the bottom was Keeler’s signature.
The second document was a copy of a police report.
No charges had been filed.
The report said the alleged transfer could not be traced to Micah and that the family had declined to pursue the matter.
“You told us the police confirmed it,” Sariah said.
Keeler’s gaze moved toward the windows.
Devon closed the study doors.
The third item was a bundle of unopened letters tied with faded blue ribbon.
Every envelope had been addressed to Micah Callaway.
Every return address belonged to Elaine Harkness.
Cole’s knees weakened, but he remained standing.
Sariah opened the first letter.
Elaine wrote that Micah had not answered her calls.
She wrote that she did not believe he had abandoned her.
She wrote that she was pregnant and frightened and needed him to know before someone convinced him she had chosen to disappear.
The next letter was more desperate.
The third included a grainy ultrasound image.
On the back, Elaine had written, Our son is due in October.
Cole had been born in October.
Devon turned to Keeler.
“Why were these sealed in the safe?”
Keeler’s answer came too quickly.
“Your father put them there.”
Mavis spoke from the doorway.
“No, he didn’t.”
Everyone turned.
She stepped into the room, hands clasped tightly at her waist.
“Mr.
Callaway never knew those letters arrived.
Mr.
Keeler collected the household mail during that summer.
He said Micah had asked that anything from Elaine be destroyed.”
Keeler stared at her.
“You are confused.”
“I was twenty-eight, not dead.
I remember.”
Sariah opened another envelope.
Inside was a photograph of Elaine standing beside a bus station, one hand resting on her stomach.
A young man stood beside her with his arm around her shoulders.
Cole recognized himself in the man’s face.
Not exactly.
The man’s hair was longer, and his smile was careless in a way Cole had never learned to be.
But the same deep-set eyes looked back from the photograph.
The same slight bend marked the bridge of his nose.
Around the man’s neck hung the wooden cross.
Cole sat down without deciding to.
“That’s Micah,” Sariah said.
He looked at her.
“What happened to him?”
For the first time since the cross fell, she had no immediate answer.
Keeler found one.
“He ran away after
