Chapter 3 - Eleven Days Earlier
Leah had found Evelyn by accident.
At least, she had believed it was an accident.
Eleven days before the fire, she had gone into the garage looking for her mother’s old camping lantern.
Celeste had reorganized the shelves that summer, boxing up things she called “emotional clutter.”
Leah hated the phrase.
Mara’s belongings were not clutter.
Still, Leah had learned that protesting every box only made Ethan say, “Celeste is trying to make the house work for everyone.”
So Leah searched quietly.
Behind a carton of Christmas decorations, she found a narrow wooden case.
Inside were photographs.
Celeste at twenty.
Celeste beside an older woman.
Celeste standing between Evelyn and a broad-shouldered man Leah assumed was Charles Vale.
And beneath them, an unopened Christmas card dated four years earlier.
For Celeste.
The return address belonged to Evelyn Vale.
The message was short.
I won’t force myself into your life. But if you ever decide truth matters more than winning, you know where to find me.
Leah had photographed the card.
That evening she searched Evelyn’s name.
Retired certified forensic accountant.
New Haven.
Volunteer tax adviser at a community legal center.
Not dead.
Not institutionalized.
Not dangerous.
Everything Celeste had implied about her mother began to crumble.
Leah emailed.
Evelyn answered two days later.
Not with secrets.
With caution.
Are you safe?
Leah found the question strange.
She wrote back that she was.
Then another message came.
Does Celeste know you contacted me?
No.
Keep it that way until we speak.
That was when Leah began paying attention.
She noticed Celeste checking the mailbox before anyone else.
She noticed an unfamiliar silver sedan twice near the end of their street.
She noticed Ethan mentioning an appointment with a new financial consultant.
Grant.
The night of the fire, Leah heard Celeste arguing on the patio while Ethan was inside retrieving wine.
She recognized Grant’s name.
So she pressed record.
Now, eleven days later, everything connected.
Almost.
Ethan stood in the kitchen, listening to the recording for the third time.
“You knew Evelyn contacted Leah?”
“I knew someone had been emailing her,” Celeste said.
“How?”
Celeste looked at Leah’s laptop.
“She leaves things open.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re a teenager.”
“That isn’t an explanation.”
Evelyn turned to Celeste.
“You were monitoring her?”
Celeste exhaled.
“This is ridiculous.”
Ethan moved closer.
“Answer.”
“I saw an email notification.”
Leah knew that was impossible.
She used a separate account for Evelyn.
Notifications were disabled.
“You didn’t.”
Celeste’s eyes met hers.
Leah felt an unpleasant certainty.
She went upstairs.
“Leah!” Ethan called.
She ignored him.
In her bedroom, she searched the desk.
Nothing disturbed.
Closet.
Nothing.
Then she saw the tiny green indicator light on the old charging dock beside her dresser.
It was not supposed to glow.
She unplugged it.
A small black adapter sat between the charging cable and wall outlet.
She had never seen it before.
Ethan entered behind her.
“What is that?”
“I don’t know.”
Evelyn followed and stopped in the doorway.
“Don’t touch it.”
Celeste appeared behind her.
Her face betrayed recognition for less than a second.
Leah saw it.
So did Evelyn.
Ethan took a photograph instead of touching the device.
“You put this here?”
“No.”
“Celeste.”
“I said no.”
Evelyn asked, “Who has access to the house?”
“All of us,” Ethan replied.
“Housekeeper?”
“Twice a week.”
“Security company?”
“Yes.”
“Grant?”
Ethan frowned.
“He’s been here.”
Leah turned.
“When?”
“A month ago. We discussed a business valuation.”
Celeste folded her arms.
“There. Mystery solved. Grant may have left something.”
“A surveillance adapter in my bedroom?” Leah asked.
“No one knows what it is yet.”
Evelyn looked at Ethan.
“She’s right about one thing. We don’t know. So don’t destroy it.”
Celeste laughed.
“Now I’m apparently running a spy operation.”
Evelyn met her eyes.
“You threw a teenager’s phone into a fire to destroy a recording.”
Nobody answered that.
Ethan called the police.
Celeste exploded.
“You cannot be serious.”
“My daughter may have been monitored in her bedroom.”
“By whom?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
Celeste grabbed her coat.
Ethan blocked the hall.
“Where are you going?”
“A hotel.”
“No.”
Her eyes widened.
“You don’t get to tell me I can’t leave.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
He stepped aside.
“But don’t take anything from Leah’s room. Don’t touch the computers. And don’t take documents from my office.”
For the first time, Celeste looked genuinely wounded.
“You think I’m a criminal.”
Ethan’s answer came slowly.
“I don’t know what I think.”
Celeste walked downstairs.
They heard the front door slam.
Leah stared at the black adapter.
Five minutes later, headlights swept across her bedroom wall.
Celeste’s car left.
Then another vehicle turned on at the curb.
The silver sedan.
It pulled away immediately after her.
Evelyn watched it disappear.
“That’s the car, isn’t it?”
Leah nodded.
Ethan looked at them.
“What car?”
May you like
Leah felt cold.
“The one that’s been following me.”
