Chapter 16 - Freya’s MemoryFreya remembered the hiding place during breakfast.
She was building a tower from cereal pieces.
Suddenly she looked at Jocelyn.
“Mom put something in your bear.”
Jocelyn frowned.
“What bear?”
“The yellow one.”
Jocelyn’s chest tightened.
Her old stuffed bear.
Honey.
Natalie had given it to her when she was four.
Damon threw most toys into storage after Natalie died.
“Why do you remember that?”
Freya shrugged.
“I was under the blanket.”
“What happened?”
“Mom cut him.”
Miriam nearly dropped her coffee.
“Cut who?”
“The bear.”
Jocelyn smiled despite everything.
“She means she opened a seam.”
Freya nodded.
“She put paper inside.”
“When?”
“Hospital time.”
Jocelyn looked at Miriam.
The stuffed bear was not among the belongings removed under Harrison’s custody order.
It might still be at Damon’s house.
Malcolm obtained permission to search again.
Honey was found inside a sealed attic tote.
An evidence technician opened the old stitched seam.
Inside were three folded pages.
Natalie’s handwriting.
Not corporate records.
A parenting declaration.
A letter to family court.
Natalie had drafted it but never filed it before her health collapsed.
The letter explained that if she died, she wanted neither Harrison nor Damon to have unsupervised control of the girls until both men completed financial investigations and parenting evaluations.
She named Miriam as her preferred guardian.
Legally, the letter was not a binding custody order.
A parent could express preference, but courts still had to decide the child’s best interest.
Still, it mattered.
It proved Natalie’s intent.
And it destroyed Harrison’s claim that Natalie wanted him restored as primary parent after her death.
Jocelyn read one line repeatedly:
Miriam is imperfect, stubborn, and sometimes infuriating. She is also the only adult in this family I trust to put the girls before Briar.
Miriam laughed through tears.
“Your mother had to insult me in the same sentence.”
Jocelyn smiled.
“Sounds like love.”
“Yes.”
Freya’s memory also contained something else.
“Mom said Dad would get mad about the paper.”
“Harrison?”
Freya nodded.
“How would he know?”
“She said don’t tell him.”
Jocelyn stared.
Natalie had spoken to a seven-year-old who had been five at the time.
Not because she expected Freya to carry legal responsibility.
Because little children remembered strange things.
Songs.
Stuffed animals.
Colors.
Natalie had spread clues across memory without giving either child the full burden.
Jocelyn finally understood why.
One child forgetting did not destroy everything.
Harrison’s legal position collapsed further.
The court suspended all contact rights pending a safety hearing.
A warrant now covered obstruction, evidence tampering, violating court restrictions, and financial crimes.
Prosecutors were evaluating child-endangerment charges related to confinement and coercion.
Still Harrison remained missing.
Malcolm believed someone was helping him.
Damon denied it.
Phone records suggested otherwise.
One number contacted Harrison twice after he fled.
It belonged to Damon’s cousin, a mechanic named Ross Cross.
Ross initially lied.
Then police found Harrison’s old truck hidden inside his shop.
Ross cooperated.
“Harrison switched vehicles.”
“What did he take?” Malcolm asked.
“Food. Cash.”
“Where was he going?”
“Don’t know.”
“Try.”
Ross looked frightened.
“He said he had to get one thing from the girls before it was over.”
Malcolm’s face hardened.
“What thing?”
“A statement.”
“What statement?”
“He wanted Jocelyn to say Natalie gave him permission to handle Briar assets.”
“That’s absurd.”
“I know.”
But Malcolm understood.
Harrison no longer expected to erase evidence.
He wanted to muddy intent.
If he could produce a recording of Jocelyn repeating something Natalie supposedly said, he could use it publicly, perhaps legally, to support his narrative.
It would not erase bank records.
But Harrison cared deeply about controlling the story.
Sometimes powerful people fought reputation after facts were already lost.
Protection tightened again.
Jocelyn hated it.
“You said we were moving toward normal.”
“We are,” Miriam said.
“This isn’t normal.”
“No.”
“So stop saying that.”
Miriam nodded.
“Okay.”
Jocelyn looked surprised.
“You’re not arguing?”
“You’re right.”
“Adults don’t do that.”
“Some do.”
Jocelyn almost smiled.
That night Freya climbed into Jocelyn’s bed.
“Jo?”
“Yeah?”
“Is Dad going to make us wear those dresses again?”
Jocelyn’s chest tightened.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s not getting inside.”
Freya looked at her.
“That sounds like a promise.”
Jocelyn remembered Claire.
Miriam.
Safe adults.
She corrected herself.
“The police are watching. Miriam locks the doors. We have a plan. And if anything happens, we tell people.”
Freya thought about it.
“That’s a lot of words.”
“I know.”
“I liked no.”
Jocelyn laughed.
“Me too.”
Freya curled against her.
After a moment:
“Jo?”
“What?”
“When we live with Miriam, can I pick my own clothes?”
Jocelyn looked toward the dark ceiling.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
May you like
This time Jocelyn smiled.
“Because I’m making that one a rule.”
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