Chapter 7 - The Empty OfficeThe Sunridge address led Ethan to a low, modern office building on the outskirts of Scottsdale.
The parking lot was nearly empty.
A faded business directory stood beside the entrance.
SUNRIDGE CHILD DEVELOPMENT SERVICES appeared on the third line.
Suite 204.
Ethan took a photograph of the sign.
He had considered bringing Lily, hoping she might recognize the building.
Then he'd changed his mind.
She had already been made responsible for too much.
Instead, he went alone.
Upstairs, the hallway smelled faintly of new paint.
Suite 204 had an opaque glass door and a small metal plaque.
But no receptionist answered when Ethan knocked.
He knocked again.
Nothing.
Through a narrow side window, he could see an empty room.
No toys.
No counseling materials.
No furniture except two metal folding chairs.
He checked the business hours printed on an old notice beside the door.
Monday through Friday.
Nine to five.
It was eleven thirty.
Ethan took another photograph.
Then he walked downstairs to the property management office.
A woman behind the counter looked up.
“Can I help you?”
“I'm trying to contact Sunridge.”
She frowned.
“Suite 204?”
“Yes.”
“They moved out.”
“When?”
“About two months ago, I think.”
Ethan felt his pulse quicken.
“Do you have a forwarding address?”
“I can't give out tenant information.”
“I understand. Do you know whether they operated a therapy clinic?”
The woman hesitated.
“They rented the office as an administrative space. I don't know what services they provided.”
Ethan thanked her.
He resisted the urge to demand more.
Instead, he returned to his truck and called the attorney recommended to him, Rebecca Ortiz.
Rebecca practiced trust and estate litigation and had agreed to an initial meeting that afternoon.
He described what he'd found.
“An empty office doesn't prove services were never provided,” she cautioned.
“I know.”
“But if the invoices claim in-person treatment at that location, its actual use matters.”
“Can we get the records?”
“Potentially, through appropriate legal requests or litigation. First, let's make sure we protect Lily and preserve the evidence.”
Ethan looked at the building.
“What should I do about Claire?”
“Do not confront her with everything you discover. And don't use Lily as an investigator.”
He swallowed.
“I've already asked her questions.”
“Then stop for now. Let a qualified professional handle any further interview, especially if there's emotional abuse.”
The words hurt.
Emotional abuse.
He'd suspected dishonesty and financial misconduct.
He hadn't fully accepted what the threats might have done to his daughter.
“Do you think I should take her somewhere else?”
“I can't assess the immediate risk over the phone. If she's unsafe, act to protect her. We can discuss the household arrangements and any necessary court relief when we meet.”
Ethan thanked her.
Then he opened the photographs on his phone.
One billing statement claimed Lily had attended forty hours of individualized instruction at Sunridge the previous month.
The office had apparently been vacated well before those dates.
That contradiction mattered.
But he needed reliable evidence establishing when the company stopped occupying the space and where, if anywhere, the claimed sessions occurred.
He couldn't mistake suspicion for proof.
He had made that mistake in the opposite direction with Claire.
He wouldn't repeat it.
Back at the house, Rosa opened the door.
She had worked for the family twice a week since Mara was alive.
In her late fifties, with silver-streaked hair and a quiet manner, she rarely spoke about personal matters.
Now she looked worried.
“Mr. Carter, there's something you should know.”
Ethan stepped inside.
“Is Lily okay?”
“She's upstairs reading.”
“What's wrong?”
Rosa glanced toward the dining table.
Claire had left a little before breakfast.
The room appeared undisturbed.
But Rosa's expression suggested she had been waiting for this conversation.
“Mrs. Carter called me yesterday,” she said.
“She asked me to tell you Lily had been making up stories about the table.”
Ethan stared.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Rosa's eyes filled with tears.
“Because I heard what she told that child.”
Ethan slowly placed his keys on the sideboard.
“What did you hear?”
Rosa rubbed her hands together.
“Six months ago, Lily asked me whether children could be sent away if grown-ups said they were sick.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“I thought she was asking because of something she saw online,” Rosa continued. “Then I heard Mrs. Carter talking to her near the staircase.”
“What did Claire say?”
Rosa looked directly at him.
“She told Lily that if she complained about the appointments, everyone would decide she couldn't behave in a normal family.”
Ethan felt sick.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“The afternoon before your Chicago trip. I called your office.”
Ethan remembered an urgent message that had reached his assistant while he was meeting investors.
He had asked for it to be handled later.
Rosa's voice shook.
“Mrs. Carter was standing beside me when you called back. She told me I had misunderstood a private conversation.”
Ethan lowered his head.
“I should have spoken to you alone.”
“Yes,” Rosa said quietly.
The honesty stung more than any accusation.
After a moment, she reached into her pocket.
“I kept something.”
It was a folded pink piece of paper.
Lily's handwriting covered one side.
Ethan recognized the same jagged edges as the fragment that had been trapped between the oak boards.
Rosa unfolded it.
Across the top, Lily had written:
DAYS I WAS NOT AT SCHOOL OR SUNRIDGE.
Below was a carefully drawn list of dates.
May you like
And beside several of them, Lily had written the same two words.
DAD AWAY.
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