The cellar door swung inward.
Nobody stood there.
Daniel raised the flashlight, sweeping its beam across the narrow passage and the shelves beyond it. Dust floated through the light. The basement stairs were empty.
Frank exhaled.
“Someone's playing games.”
Grandma didn't answer.
She was staring at the floor.
A thin trail of muddy footprints crossed the stone tiles from the stairs to the cellar door. They stopped directly in front of us.
Whoever had been there had walked away without leaving a second set.
Daniel crouched beside the prints.
“Those are fresh.”
Grandma nodded.
Then she looked at me.
“Where is Claire?”
My stomach tightened.
She had been upstairs less than two minutes earlier.
Daniel ran toward the stairs.
We followed.
The dining room looked exactly as we'd left it except for the broken window beside the kitchen door. Cold rain blew across the floor, scattering pieces of glass beneath the table.
Claire was gone.
Her coat remained hanging beside the entrance.
So did her purse.
Marlene rushed toward the hallway.
“Claire!”
No answer.
Frank checked the kitchen, then the living room.
Daniel ran outside.
I followed him onto the porch.
The rain had intensified. Tire tracks curved away from the driveway, but they were difficult to read beneath the water.
Daniel turned toward Grandma.
“Who took her?”
Grandma stood in the doorway.
“I don't know.”
“You said Victor wanted the box.”
“I said he wanted what was inside it.”
“Then why is Claire missing?”
Grandma's silence answered more than her words could.
Daniel stepped toward her.
“You knew this could happen.”
“I knew it was possible.”
“You brought us here anyway.”
Grandma looked at him steadily.
“I brought you here because hiding had stopped protecting anyone.”
That was when a car horn sounded from the road.
A dark sedan had stopped beyond the gate.
The driver's door opened.
A man stepped out.
He wasn't Victor.
He was younger, perhaps thirty-five, wearing a soaked gray jacket.
He walked toward us with both hands visible.
“I'm Michael Vale.”
Grandma closed her eyes.
For the first time that morning, she looked relieved.
Daniel stared at him.
“You're Thomas Vale's grandson?”
Michael nodded.
“Your sister is safe.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“Where is Claire?”
Michael looked past us toward the house.
“She followed me.”
“She followed you where?”
“To the old orchard.”
Grandma's face changed.
“Why would you take her there?”
“I didn't.”
Michael pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket.
“She came looking for me before Christmas morning.”
He handed it to me.
The handwriting belonged to Claire.
I read the first line.
Grandma has been lying to all of us.
I looked up.
Michael continued.
“Claire contacted me six months ago.”
Daniel shook his head.
“That's impossible.”
“She knew about Thomas.”
“How?”
Michael looked toward Grandma.
“Because she found his letter.”
Grandma said nothing.
I turned toward her.
“You knew she had it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you tell us?”
“Because I didn't know whether she had understood what she'd found.”
Michael stepped closer.
“She understood.”
He reached inside his jacket and produced a photograph.
It showed Claire standing beside an older man.
The man was Thomas Vale.
Alive.
The photograph was dated only eight months earlier.
My throat went dry.
“That's impossible.”
Michael shook his head.
“It isn't.”
Grandma took the photograph.
Her fingers trembled.
“He contacted me last winter,” she whispered.
Daniel stared at her.
“You said he was dead.”
“I said he disappeared.”
“You let us believe he was dead.”
“I wanted you to believe he couldn't come back.”
Michael looked toward the road.
“We don't have time for this.”
A distant engine approached.
Grandma heard it too.
Her expression hardened.
“Victor.”
Michael nodded.
“He found the orchard.”
Daniel grabbed the wooden box.
“Then we go.”
Grandma stopped him.
“Not with the box.”
Daniel looked confused.
“What?”
She pointed to the box.
“Victor wants the box because he thinks the ledger is inside.”
“But it isn't.”
“No.”
Grandma's eyes moved to Michael.
“It's in the house.”
Michael shook his head.
“Not anymore.”
Everyone froze.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Thomas moved it yesterday.”
“To where?”
Michael looked at me.
“He left it for you.”
A second vehicle turned onto the road.
Michael stepped backward.
“He said you were the only one who would know where to look.”
I stared at him.
“I've never met Thomas.”
Michael gave a faint, almost sad smile.
“He knew you anyway.”
Then the sedan accelerated toward the house.
Grandma reached for my arm.
“Run.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: The Old Orchard Held the First Real Evidence of Thomas’s Survival, but Someone Had Already Searched the Place Before Them
The Christmas Gift Everyone Thought Was a Joke Until One Envelope Made the Room Go Completely Silent
Part 5 of 20
