Sometimes the hardest truths were not about monsters.
They were about ordinary people making choices and refusing to look closely enough at the consequences.
“I want to see the house,” I said.
Bell nodded. “You can come with us, but you do not touch anything until we document it.”
“I understand.”
Before we left, I went to Elise’s bedside.
She was awake again, watching the rain slide down the window.
“I’m going with Detective Bell to Dad’s house,” I told her.
“Why?”
“To find out what the key opens.”
She glanced at my pocket.
“Don’t let Dad know about the note yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because he doesn’t know I saw it.”
“What did you see?”
She hesitated.
“When Aunt Morgan was making me practice, she told me to get a folder from Dad’s office. She said it was blue. But when I went in, I saw Dad putting papers in the drawer.”
“What papers?”
“I don’t know. He heard me and closed it.”
“Did he see you?”
“No. I hid behind the door.”
“Why did you remember the drawer?”
“Because Aunt Morgan was mad when she couldn’t find the folder.”
That detail changed the shape of the mystery.
“If she was looking for it, why did she need you to get it?”
Elise shrugged carefully, then winced.
“I think she wanted to take it.”
“Did she say what was inside?”
