Chapter 2 - The Thing She Was Looking ForLily watched Martha place the broken security camera on the dresser.
The tiny black device looked harmless now.
Dead.
Disconnected.
Martha turned around.
“You pressed something.”
Lily wiped tears from her face.
“I didn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
Martha walked closer.
Lily’s heart hammered, but she forced herself not to look toward the hidden red button again.
If the system had worked, her father knew.
That was enough.
She only needed time.
Martha stopped in front of her.
“What did Richard show you?”
“Nothing.”
Martha smiled without warmth.
“I’ve cleaned this bedroom for six years.”
“Then why are you tearing it apart?”
The smile disappeared.
Lily immediately regretted sounding brave.
Martha grabbed her chin.
Not hard enough to leave an obvious bruise.
That was how Martha usually operated.
Places clothing could cover.
Pressure that hurt but left little evidence.
Cruelty carefully measured.
“You’ve gotten very confident lately.”
Lily pulled away.
“Dad’s coming.”
“Your father is across the city.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know his schedule better than you do.”
That hurt because it was partly true.
Richard loved Lily fiercely.
She had never doubted that.
But he also lived through calendars, flights, conference rooms, investor dinners and midnight calls.
Since Lily had started college locally, he seemed to believe her independence meant she needed him less.
Martha had used every absence.
At first it had been comments.
Then humiliation.
Then threats.
Tonight had become something else.
Martha returned to the dresser and pulled out a jewelry box.
Lily froze.
It had belonged to Catherine Bennett.
Her mother.
Lily had almost no memories of Catherine because she had been eleven months old when her mother died.
Everything she knew came from photographs.
Catherine laughing beside a lake.
Catherine holding newborn Lily against her chest.
Catherine standing beside Richard on their wedding day.
Richard rarely talked about the accident.
Whenever Lily asked, something closed behind his eyes.
“Put that down,” Lily said.
Martha looked at the jewelry box.
“This?”
“It belonged to my mother.”
“I know.”
The answer came too quickly.
Lily stared at her.
“How?”
Martha opened the box.
“You’ve told me.”
“No, I haven’t.”
Silence.
Martha’s fingers stopped.
For the first time, Lily saw uncertainty in her face.
It lasted less than a second.
Then Martha began searching through the jewelry.
“You need to leave.”
Martha laughed.
“You still don’t understand what’s happening.”
“I understand you attacked me.”
“You think this is about your hair?”
“What else would it be about?”
Martha turned.
“Three days ago, you found a key.”
Lily’s stomach tightened.
She said nothing.
Martha noticed.
“There it is.”
“I didn’t find anything.”
“Don’t.”
Martha stepped toward her.
“Don’t insult me.”
Lily’s mind raced.
Three days earlier, she had been reorganizing an old writing desk Richard had moved from storage into her bedroom.
One drawer stuck.
When Lily removed it, she discovered a small brass key taped beneath the wood.
No tag.
No note.
Just a key.
She had slipped it into the pocket of an old denim jacket and forgotten about it until that afternoon, when she noticed Martha standing beside the open closet.
Martha had claimed she was putting away laundry.
But the jacket had been moved.
Lily had relocated the key immediately.
It was now hidden inside the hem of the shirt she was wearing.
Martha reached for her.
Lily backed away.
“Where is it?”
“I threw it away.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“What does it open?”
Martha’s expression changed.
So did Lily’s understanding.
That was the first time she realized Martha wasn’t merely angry.
She was afraid.
“The key opens something my mother left, doesn’t it?”
Martha said nothing.
“What is it?”
“Give me the key.”
“Why?”
“Because some things should stay buried.”
“Then why are you so desperate to find them?”
Martha slapped her.
Lily stumbled sideways.
Pain burned across her cheek.
But this time she did not cry.
Martha seemed surprised.
Lily tasted blood where her teeth had caught the inside of her lip.
“You knew my mother.”
Martha’s eyes hardened.
Lily stepped forward instead of back.
“You knew her.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You recognized her jewelry box.”
Martha gripped Lily’s shoulders.
“Stop asking questions.”
“What did she leave me?”
“Stop.”
“What happened to her?”
Martha’s face went still.
Lily saw it.
Whatever answer existed, Martha knew part of it.
Maybe all of it.
“What happened to my mother?”
Martha leaned toward her.
“Do you really want to know?”
Lily’s fear returned.
But underneath it was something stronger.
“Yes.”
Martha glanced at the bedroom door.
Then back at Lily.
“Your father told you Catherine died in an accident.”
Lily swallowed.
“She did.”
“That’s the story.”
“What does that mean?”
Martha lowered her voice.
“It means your father has lied to you since you were a baby.”
Lily shook her head.
“No.”
“And the key you found?”
May you like
Martha smiled faintly.
“That opens the reason why.”
Related Stories
