Chapter 9 - The Letters Margaret Never Let Frank ReadThere were fourteen.
Fourteen letters from Ava.
Different years.
Different addresses.
Different handwriting as she grew older.
Every one addressed to Frank Carter.
Every one hidden in Margaret’s office.
The first came in 2001.
Ava would have been twelve.
Dad, I’m sorry I left. Margaret said you would get arrested because of the money if I told anyone where I came from. I didn’t want them to take you away.
Daniel cried silently as Rachel read.
The second:
I told my foster mom my real name. She says none of this sounds right. Can you please call me?
A phone number followed.
Frank had never seen it.
The third:
Margaret called. She says you’re still angry and I should stop hurting you. Is that true?
Rachel stopped.
“Margaret called her.”
Daniel stared at nothing.
“She found her.”
“And convinced her Frank didn’t want contact.”
He covered his mouth.
Another letter arrived when Ava was fifteen.
I won a writing award. I know that sounds stupid, but you used to put my stories on the restaurant fridge.
Rachel’s vision blurred.
At seventeen:
Margaret says Daniel barely remembers me. I hope that’s not true. Tell him I’m sorry I used to steal his fries.
Daniel laughed once.
Then broke down.
“I remember that.”
Rachel sat beside him.
“She used to do it every night.”
He pressed the letter against his chest.
“I remember.”
Another.
Age twenty-one.
I’m not going to write anymore after this. I have to believe silence is an answer. I just wish you’d told me yourself.
But Ava did write again.
At twenty-four.
The year Frank died.
I heard someone with your name died in Chicago. I don’t know if it was you. Margaret’s number doesn’t work anymore. If you’re gone, I hope you knew I never hated you.
Margaret had hidden that too.
Daniel stood abruptly.
“I’m going to kill her.”
Rachel grabbed his arm.
“No.”
“She did this.”
“I know.”
“She let Dad die thinking Ava abandoned him.”
“I know.”
“She let Ava think Dad rejected her.”
“Yes.”
Daniel tried to pull away.
Rachel held on.
“And she would love nothing more than to turn your anger into something she can use.”
He stopped.
Margaret’s favorite role.
Victim.
Daniel sat again.
Rachel called Detective Ruiz.
Within an hour, police had the letters.
They photographed the hidden office compartment.
Margaret’s attorney protested.
The restaurant belonged partly to Daniel and the evidence had been voluntarily produced.
The letters became part of the reopened investigation.
Then Ruiz asked:
“Did you find any current address?”
Daniel looked through the envelopes.
The latest was twelve years old.
A Wisconsin return address.
Ruiz would trace it.
Margaret called.
This time Daniel answered.
On speaker.
“What did you do?” Margaret demanded.
Rachel nearly admired the audacity.
Daniel said nothing.
“Police were at my restaurant.”
“Our restaurant.”
Margaret paused.
Daniel continued.
“I found the letters.”
Silence.
“Fourteen of them.”
“Daniel—”
“You told Ava Dad hated her.”
“You don’t understand.”
“You told Dad Ava chose to leave.”
“She did.”
“She was nine.”
“She refused to come home.”
“When?”
Margaret stopped.
Daniel’s voice lowered.
“When did she refuse?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Yes, you do.”
Rachel heard Margaret breathing.
Daniel continued.
“You contacted her.”
“I tried to help.”
“You told her Dad didn’t want her.”
“Your father was unstable.”
“You told Dad she wouldn’t contact him.”
“He was barely functioning.”
“So you protected both of them by making each believe the other hated them?”
Margaret began crying.
Rachel watched Daniel’s face.
The tears no longer worked.
“Stop.”
Margaret sniffed.
“What?”
“Stop crying because you think it ends the conversation.”
Silence.
Daniel looked at Rachel.
Something had changed.
Margaret’s weapon had finally stopped firing.
“Where is Ava?”
“I don’t know.”
“When did you last speak?”
“Years ago.”
“How many?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Try.”
Margaret became angry.
“This interrogation is ridiculous.”
Daniel smiled sadly.
“There you are.”
“What?”
“The real voice.”
Margaret went quiet.
Daniel continued.
“Not the crying mother. The angry one who appears when nobody obeys.”
Rachel felt a chill.
Daniel had finally learned to hear it.
“Where is Ava?”
“I told you.”
“You contacted her after Dad died.”
Margaret said nothing.
Daniel looked through the letters.
One envelope had no letter inside.
Only a return address.
Postmarked five months after Frank’s death.
“Did she come to Chicago?”
Margaret hung up.
Daniel stared at the phone.
Rachel’s heart accelerated.
“She did.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Mom never hangs up.”
Detective Ruiz took the postmark information.
Later that evening, she called.
The address belonged to an apartment Ava rented until eleven years ago.
The landlord remembered her.
More importantly, he remembered why she left.
“A man came asking about her,” Ruiz said.
Daniel frowned.
“Who?”
“The landlord doesn’t remember the name.”
“Description?”
“Male. Mid-fifties at the time.”
Daniel and Rachel looked at each other.
Not Margaret.
“Did he say why?”
“He claimed he was family.”
“Frank was already dead.”
“Yes.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“Who else knew?”
Ruiz continued.
“The landlord says Ava became frightened after that visit and moved within a week.”
Rachel felt cold.
“Was Margaret working with someone?”
“Possibly.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Daniel looked through the box again.
At the bottom was an old restaurant payroll ledger.
He frowned.
“Why was this hidden with Ava’s letters?”
Rachel leaned closer.
Several employee names.
One was circled repeatedly.
Victor Hale.
Daniel’s face changed.
“You know him?”
“He worked security here.”
“When?”
“The year Ava disappeared.”
Rachel’s pulse quickened.
“And after?”
Daniel scanned the pages.
“He stopped working for us two weeks later.”
Detective Ruiz searched the old case report.
Victor Hale had never been interviewed.
Margaret had told police he had quit a month before Ava disappeared.
The payroll ledger proved she lied.
Rachel stared at Daniel.
May you like
Margaret hadn’t acted alone.
And somewhere, perhaps, the second person who knew what happened to Ava was still alive.
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