Chapter 6 - Someone Knew Olivia Had Been FoundCaleb did not tell Olivia about the car that night.
By morning, he regretted that decision.
At 6:12 a.m., the guesthouse alarm activated.
Caleb woke in the main house to a security notification.
REAR WINDOW OPEN.
He was dressed and running before the second alert arrived.
George shouted from the hallway.
“What happened?”
“Stay inside.”
Caleb crossed the garden.
Security lights illuminated the guesthouse.
The rear kitchen window stood open.
His pulse exploded.
“Olivia!”
He entered through the front door using the emergency property key.
“Olivia!”
She appeared in the hallway wearing the lavender sweater and holding a fireplace poker.
Caleb stopped.
“Jesus.”
“What are you doing here?”
“The alarm.”
Emma began crying from the bedroom.
Olivia lowered the poker.
“I opened the window.”
“At six in the morning?”
“I felt sick.”
Caleb exhaled.
“You scared the hell out of me.”
“I’m sorry.”
He noticed her face.
She was pale.
“Are you okay?”
“Just nausea.”
“At thirty-five weeks?”
“It happens.”
“Doctor.”
“No.”
“Olivia.”
“No.”
“What if—”
“I said no.”
The argument lasted until she doubled slightly and pressed one hand beneath her belly.
Caleb was beside her instantly.
“Contraction?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Olivia.”
“It’s not labor.”
Emma emerged holding a stuffed rabbit one of the house staff had found for her.
“Mommy?”
“I’m okay, baby.”
Caleb watched Olivia force a smile.
Fear shifted into something else.
Practical urgency.
“When did you last see a doctor?”
Olivia didn’t answer.
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
Caleb stared.
“Why?”
“Because appointments cost money.”
“You have Medicaid?”
“Application issue.”
“What issue?”
“I moved addresses.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Please don’t do the rich-man-angry-at-the-system thing.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“Fine. I was.”
She almost smiled.
George entered through the front door despite being told to stay inside.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” Olivia and Caleb said simultaneously.
George looked suspicious.
Then his attention shifted toward the kitchen table.
The opened necklace lay there.
“What are you doing?”
“Reading Mom’s note again.”
Olivia had started saying Mom instead of my mother.
George noticed.
He didn’t comment.
Caleb poured water.
“We need to find out whether Henry knows Olivia is here.”
George’s expression changed.
Olivia looked at them.
“Who is Henry?”
Caleb told her.
George objected.
“We don’t know the car was his.”
“It matched.”
“Thousands match.”
“He still has connections to the law firm.”
Olivia placed the glass down.
“What law firm?”
“The family attorney I called yesterday.”
“You told someone about me?”
George looked guilty.
“I asked for old company records.”
“Did you mention the necklace?”
Silence.
Olivia laughed without humor.
“You did.”
“I didn’t give your address.”
“You didn’t need to. I’m staying on your property.”
Caleb interrupted.
“Dad made a mistake.”
Olivia looked at him.
“Seems hereditary.”
George deserved that too.
Caleb took out his phone.
“I’m changing security access.”
“I don’t want security.”
“You’re staying on a property someone may be watching.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It isn’t supposed to be.”
She looked at Emma.
Fear returned.
Caleb softened.
“We don’t know anyone is coming after you.”
“You just sprinted into this house because a window opened.”
“Because I’m becoming neurotic.”
George said:
“He was always neurotic.”
Caleb ignored him.
Olivia touched the pendant.
“Why would Henry care now?”
George answered.
“If Claire had evidence, and you have something she left…”
“He might think I have the evidence.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t.”
“You may have it without knowing.”
That sentence stayed in the room.
Olivia looked toward the worn shopping bag.
Caleb followed her eyes.
“What?”
“My mother’s things.”
“What things?”
“Not much.”
She emptied the bag onto the table.
Clothes.
Emma’s medicine.
Documents.
A photograph.
A battered leather wallet.
A small key.
George leaned closer.
“What does that open?”
Olivia picked it up.
“I don’t know.”
Caleb stared.
“You carry a key you don’t recognize?”
“It was my mother’s.”
“Why didn’t you mention it?”
“Because until yesterday, my dead mother wasn’t part of a corporate mystery.”
Fair.
The key was brass.
A number stamped into it.
George’s breathing changed.
Caleb noticed.
“You recognize it?”
“No.”
“Dad.”
“I recognize the type.”
“From?”
“Train-station lockers.”
Olivia frowned.
“What?”
“Old Union Station storage lockers used keys like that before the renovations.”
Caleb looked at the number.
“Could it be twenty-seven years old?”
“Possibly.”
Olivia stared at the key.
“My mother kept this in a sewing box.”
“Did she ever tell you what it was?”
“No.”
Then Emma spoke from the floor.
“Grandma box.”
Everyone turned.
Olivia crouched.
“What did you say?”
Emma pointed at the key.
“Grandma box.”
Olivia’s face changed.
“Emma, where did you see that?”
“At Grandma house.”
“What box?”
Emma thought hard.
“Red box.”
Olivia suddenly sat down.
Caleb moved closer.
“What?”
“When Mom was dying, Emma stayed with us.”
“So?”
“There was a red metal box in Mom’s closet.”
“Where is it?”
Olivia looked horrified.
“In the storage unit.”
“What storage unit?”
“The one with everything from our apartment.”
Caleb understood.
“You put your belongings in storage after eviction.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Olivia reached for her phone.
Then stopped.
“What?”
She opened an email.
Her face drained.
The storage company had sent the message at 5:43 that morning.
UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED — UNIT 417.
Caleb looked at the brass key in Olivia’s hand.
The same number.
May you like
Olivia whispered:
“Someone is already there.”
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