Chapter 7: My Father's Letter
Margaret took Lily.
I stood in the driveway and watched the car until it turned at the end of the street and disappeared.
The officers left shortly after, with a case number and a promise that a detective would be in contact within twenty-four hours.
Ryan watched them go.
Then he walked to his Audi, opened the door, and looked at me across the roof of the car.
"I'm going to get a lawyer," he said.
"That's your right."
"Emily." He said my name like it was something he was setting down carefully.
"I know how this looks.
But there are things you don't understand yet.
Things I couldn't tell you."
"You had nine years."
"It wasn't safe."
I looked at him.
"Safe for who?"
He didn't answer.
He got in the car and drove away.
I went inside.
The house was very quiet.
Lily's cereal bowl was still on the kitchen counter from that morning.
A drawing she had made at school was stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet — a house, four stick figures, a yellow sun.
She had labeled them.
Mommy.
Daddy.
Me.
Dog.
We didn't have a dog.
She had been asking for one for two years.
I sat down at the kitchen table.
I put my father's envelope in front of me.
I opened it.
The letter was three pages, handwritten on the yellow legal paper he had always used.
Dated fourteen months before he passed.
*Emily,*
*If you're reading this, then something went wrong.
I hope I'm wrong about what I think is happening, but I've learned to trust my instincts more than I trust my hope, so I'm writing this down.*
*I introduced you to the man you know as Ryan Carter.
That was my mistake, and I am more sorry for it than I can say in a letter.*
*I met him through a property deal in Houston.
He was sharp and attentive and he seemed to know exactly what I needed to hear.
I liked him.
I brought him into my confidence.
By the time I started to see the edges of what he was, he was already close to you.*
*I hired someone to look into him.
What they found scared me.
I don't want to put the details in this letter in case it falls into the wrong hands.
But I want you to know that I did not leave you unprotected.*
*There is an account at First National in your name only.
The access information is with my attorney, Gerald Holt, in a sealed file marked with your initials.
Ryan does not know about this account.
I made sure of that.*
*There is also a safety deposit box at the same branch.
Inside it you will find documents — originals, not copies — that I gathered over the last year.
They concern Ryan's real identity, his history, and what I believe he intends.*
*I want you to know something else.*
*You are the best thing I ever did.
Not because you were easy or because you never gave me trouble, but because you have always been honest, and in my experience that is the rarest thing in a person.*
*Whatever is happening when you read this — you are not alone.
You were never as alone as he wanted you to feel.*
*Your father*
I read it twice.
Then I set it down on the table and pressed both hands flat against the wood and breathed.
He had known.
He had been sick and frightened and he had still spent his last months building a wall around me that I hadn't even known was there.
I picked up my phone and called Patricia Hale.
"I have a letter," I said when she answered.
"From my father.
He mentions a safety deposit box at First National.
Original documents."
"Gerald Holt is my colleague," Patricia said.
"I've been coordinating with him for two weeks.
The box is already part of our evidence chain.
We were waiting for you to be ready."
"I'm ready."
"Can you come to my office tomorrow morning?
Eight o'clock?"
"Yes."
"Bring the letter.
And Mrs.
Bennett — try to sleep tonight.
I know that sounds impossible.
But tomorrow is going to be a long day and you'll need to be clear."
I looked around the kitchen.
The cereal bowl.
The drawing on the refrigerator.
"Patricia.
The account my father set aside.
Is it intact?"
"Every dollar," she said.
"Ryan never found it."
After I hung up, I washed Lily's cereal bowl.
Dried it.
Put it back in the cabinet.
Then I sat back down at the table and read my father's letter one more time.
The last line.
*You were never as alone as he wanted you to feel.*
Outside, a car moved slowly past the house.
A black Audi.
It didn't stop.
It kept going.
But it had been moving too slowly.
I went to the window and watched until the taillights disappeared.
Then I called Mr.
Crawford.
"He just drove past the house," I said.
A pause.
"Don't turn the lights off," Mr.
Crawford said.
"Make it look like you're settled in for the night.
I'm going to make a call."
"What kind of call?"
"The kind that makes sure he doesn't come back tonight."
I stood at the window a moment longer.
Then I went to the front door and checked the lock.
Then the back door.
Then the garage.
May you like
My father had built a wall around me.
Now I had to learn how to stand behind it.
