Chapter 4 - The Man Outside Her School
“Mr. Whitcomb, why did you approach my daughter?”
My voice carried farther than I intended.
Charles stopped beside the dining-room doorway.
Luca turned.
“What daughter?”
I held up Molly's drawing.
“My little girl. She's eight years old. She drew this man outside her school.”
Charles looked at the picture.
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
Luca took the paper from my hand.
He studied the silver horse's head.
Then he looked at Charles's cane.
“Is that you?”
Charles straightened.
“I attended a school reading event last Thursday. The foundation helps sponsor it.”
“Did you speak to Molly Bennett?”
“Yes.”
My hands went cold.
“Why?”
“I wanted to know how the family was doing.”
Luca stepped closer.
“Then why didn't you ask her mother?”
Charles's voice sharpened.
“Because every conversation with Rachel has become complicated.”
I stared at him.
“You told an eight-year-old her father couldn't come home.”
“That's not what I said.”
“Then what did you say?”
He looked away.
“I told her there were things her father needed to explain before the family could be together again.”
My knees weakened.
What kind of grown man discussed a prison sentence with a child he barely knew?
Luca's hand tightened around the drawing.
“You had no right.”
Charles looked offended.
“I've helped this family for decades.”
“Then you should know better.”
Vanessa stood near the table, unusually quiet.
I noticed she hadn't looked surprised when I mentioned Molly.
That frightened me almost as much as Charles's admission.
“Did you tell him where my daughter goes to school?” I asked.
Vanessa hesitated.
“Rachel, I arranged a foundation scholarship for her reading program.”
I stared at her.
“You never told me.”
“I thought it would help.”
“Did you also tell him who picks her up?”
She didn't answer.
Luca turned toward her.
“Vanessa.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
I suddenly remembered all the afternoons I'd hurried home after work.
All the evenings Molly had asked why I looked so tired.
I'd believed I was keeping my little girl away from Daniel's troubles.
Instead, people connected to his conviction had been watching our lives more closely than I'd realized.
“I want to see my daughter,” I said.
Luca reached for his coat.
“I'll take you.”
Vanessa followed us toward the hallway.
“Luca, please. Can we talk privately?”
He stopped.
His expression softened for one painful second.
“I loved you, Vanessa. That's why this hurts.”
She began crying.
“I never wanted it to happen this way.”
“Then start telling the truth without making someone beg for it.”
He walked away.
Twenty minutes later, we reached my apartment on Chicago's North Side.
Denise Howard, my neighbor, opened the door.
She was sixty-one, a retired nurse who'd become the closest thing Molly and I had to family since Daniel went away.
“Rachel? Honey, what's wrong?”
“Where's Molly?”
“She's in the kitchen finishing her cereal.”
I hurried inside.
My daughter looked up from the table.
Her brown hair was braided unevenly.
She'd been wearing the same pink sweatshirt for three days because it was her favorite.
“Mommy!”
She jumped down and wrapped her arms around me.
I held her so tightly that she laughed.
“Mom, I can't breathe.”
I loosened my arms.
“Sorry, sweetheart.”
Then she noticed Luca.
“Who's that?”
“Mr. Moretti. He helped Mommy tonight.”
Molly studied his black suit and the tattoos near his collar.
“Are you her boss?”
“Yes,” Luca said.
“Is she in trouble?”
His expression changed.
“No, Molly. She isn't.”
Molly nodded.
“Good. She already worries too much.”
I nearly cried again.
Denise put the kettle on while I showed Molly the drawing.
“Sweetheart, can you tell me about this man?”
She looked uncomfortable.
“He came to reading night.”
“Did he talk to you?”
She nodded.
“What did he say?”
“He asked about Daddy.”
I took her little hand.
“What about Daddy?”
“He wanted to know if Daddy still had his blue coat.”
My breath caught.
Daniel owned an old navy-blue winter coat.
He'd worn it for years, even after the zipper started sticking.
I'd tried to replace it twice.
He always refused.
“He said it was lucky,” Molly continued.
“Who did?”
“The old man.”
Charles Whitcomb.
Luca crouched beside my daughter.
“Did he ask you anything else?”
Molly looked toward me.
“He wanted to know if Mommy threw Daddy's stuff away.”
I struggled to stay calm.
“What did you tell him?”
“I said you kept everything.”
Her eyes began filling.
“Was that bad?”
“No, sweetheart.”
“I didn't want Daddy to be sad if his things were gone.”
I kissed her forehead.
“You did nothing wrong.”
She glanced at Luca.
“The man said some grown-ups would get upset if people started asking questions.”
Luca went still.
“Did he tell you not to talk to your mother?”
Molly nodded.
“He said it would make things harder for Daddy.”
Anger crossed Luca's face.
But when he spoke, his voice remained gentle.
“Thank you for telling us.”
Denise brought Molly a glass of water.
I looked at Luca.
“Why would Charles care about Daniel's coat?”
“I don't know.”
He paused.
“But I intend to find out.”
I told Denise what had happened at the mansion.
She listened without interrupting.
Then she said something that made my stomach tighten.
“That elderly gentleman came by here two months ago.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“He asked whether you needed help moving furniture. I told him you weren't home.”
“Did he ask to come inside?”
“Yes.”
Luca's expression darkened.
“Did you let him?”
“Absolutely not.”
Molly tugged my sleeve.
“Mommy?”
I turned.
“What is it, baby?”
She looked frightened.
“Am I going to get Daddy in trouble?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
I hugged her.
“I promise.”
Then she whispered something that made me release her.
“Daddy told me his coat had a special pocket.”
I frowned.
“What special pocket?”
“The one he fixed himself.”
She pointed toward the hallway closet.
“He put his little blue book inside before the police came.”
I stopped breathing.
Daniel had never mentioned a blue book.
But Molly remembered it clearly.
May you like
And Charles Whitcomb had been searching for the coat.
Whatever Daniel had hidden eighteen months ago was still inside our apartment.
