Chapter 4 - Savannah Hears Her Father's NameSavannah had washed her cheek.
The grime was gone.
The humiliation wasn't.
She sat on the edge of her bed beside Imelda, wearing one of her father's old Newport Sailing Club sweatshirts.
When Charles entered, Savannah stood immediately.
“Grandpa.”
He crossed the room and hugged her.
She held him harder than he expected.
Then she pulled away.
“Are you mad at me?”
Charles stared.
“For what?”
Savannah looked down.
“Meredith said…”
“No.”
He crouched until they were eye level.
“Whatever sentence comes after ‘Meredith said’ can wait.”
Savannah's eyes filled.
“I didn't take anything.”
“I know.”
“You believe me?”
“Yes.”
“Without seeing proof?”
Charles paused.
That mattered.
“I saw enough to know she threatened you.”
Savannah swallowed.
“But the money?”
“I don't believe you stole money.”
“Why?”
“Because I know the accounts.”
He touched her shoulder gently.
“And because adults do not get to create impossible accusations and force children to disprove them.”
Savannah began crying.
Quietly.
Relief could hurt too.
Charles looked at Imelda.
“Thank you.”
She nodded.
Then Savannah asked,
“What money was Meredith talking about?”
Charles could have lied.
Not now.
Not after seeing what secrets had already done.
“Money has been leaving family accounts.”
“How much?”
“I don't know yet.”
“Did Meredith take it?”
“She helped.”
Savannah stared.
Then:
“Is Dad's money part of it?”
Charles felt his heart tighten.
“Yes.”
Savannah looked toward the window.
“I knew she was looking for something.”
“What?”
“She kept going into Dad's study.”
“When?”
“For months.”
“Did she take anything?”
“I don't know.”
Savannah hesitated.
“Grandpa?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you say Dad's name downstairs?”
Charles froze.
She had heard.
He sat beside her.
Imelda quietly moved toward the door.
Charles stopped her.
“Stay.”
Savannah looked frightened.
Not hopeful.
That hurt more.
“What happened?”
Charles chose the simplest truth.
“I have reason to believe your father survived the sailing accident.”
Savannah didn't move.
For several seconds she looked at him as though English had stopped making sense.
Then she whispered,
“You told me he could be dead.”
“I was wrong.”
“Is he alive?”
“I believe so.”
“Where?”
“Massachusetts.”
“Can I see him?”
Charles swallowed.
“I am working on that.”
She stood.
“No.”
“Savannah—”
“You said he's alive.”
“Yes.”
“Then we're going.”
“I need to make sure—”
“You adults always need to make sure.”
Charles stopped.
She was crying openly now.
“Meredith said he was gone.”
“You said we had to accept he might not come back.”
“Savannah—”
“If he's alive, why didn't he call me?”
That was the question.
Charles hated the answer.
“He may not have been able to.”
“But now?”
He looked at her.
Savannah understood.
“Someone stopped him.”
Charles didn't answer.
She stepped backward.
“Meredith?”
“Partly.”
Savannah's face changed.
Fear became anger.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
Charles didn't want to tell her.
That impulse frightened him.
He answered.
“Eight months.”
Savannah's face emptied.
Eight months was a lifetime at twelve.
Christmas.
Her birthday.
Father's Day.
The anniversary of his disappearance.
All with Meredith inside the house knowing.
“She let me think he was dead.”
“Yes.”
Savannah sat down hard.
Imelda covered her mouth.
Then Savannah said,
“I heard her talking once.”
Charles leaned forward.
“To who?”
“Don't know.”
“When?”
“Maybe two months ago.”
“What did she say?”
Savannah closed her eyes.
“‘He's remembering too much.’”
Charles felt cold.
“What else?”
“‘If he asks for Savannah again, move him.’”
Imelda gasped.
Charles's pulse accelerated.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“I thought she meant somebody at work.”
“Where were you?”
“Outside Dad's study.”
“Did she see you?”
“No.”
That explained something.
Maybe Meredith's behavior toward Savannah had intensified because she feared the girl heard more than she admitted.
Savannah continued.
“There was another thing.”
“What?”
“Dad gave me a key before he disappeared.”
Charles stared.
“What key?”
“A little blue one.”
“Where is it?”
“I hid it.”
“Why?”
“Dad told me to.”
“When?”
“Two days before he sailed.”
Charles felt the room tighten.
“What exactly did Grant say?”
Savannah thought.
“He said, ‘If Meredith asks about this, tell Grandpa.’”
Charles closed his eyes.
Grant had been afraid before the accident.
“Did Meredith ask?”
“Not at first.”
“And later?”
“Everywhere.”
“She searched your room?”
Savannah nodded.
“She called it cleaning.”
“Where's the key?”
Savannah stood.
Went to her bookshelf.
Removed a children's copy of The Secret Garden.
Inside the hollowed center lay a small blue key.
Charles stared.
He recognized the shape.
Not a house key.
Not office.
A private safe-deposit key from Atlantic Heritage Bank.
Grant used the bank.
Charles picked it up.
A number was engraved.
214.
Then Savannah said,
“Dad gave me something else.”
She pulled out an old tablet.
Cracked corner.
Dead battery.
“He told me never to connect it to the house Wi-Fi.”
Charles looked at Imelda.
Then Savannah.
“What is on it?”
“I don't know.”
“You never opened it?”
“He said not unless something happened to him.”
Savannah's voice broke.
“Something happened.”
Charles plugged it into a charger.
The screen eventually lit.
No password request.
One video file sat on the home screen.
FOR SAVANNAH — AND DAD IF SHE TRUSTS HIM.
Charles almost smiled despite everything.
Grant had always called him Dad even at forty-one.
Savannah pressed play.
Grant appeared on screen.
Alive.
Healthy.
Recorded two days before his disappearance.
May you like
His first sentence made Charles's blood run cold.
“Savannah, if you're watching this, Meredith already knows I found the missing money.”
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