PART 3
Under the cushion, we found a small brass key, a folded grocery receipt, and a piece of blue thread tied around the key’s ring.
The receipt was from a hardware store three miles away. On the back, Clara had written one line in her neat handwriting:
“The third drawer. 11:40. Don’t trust the version they give you.”
I recognized the handwriting immediately. My knees weakened, and I had to grip the table.
“Where does the key go?” Detective Reyes asked.
My father pointed toward the second floor.
The officers searched Clara’s bedroom first. Her closet doors were open. One drawer had been pulled out and left crooked. A jewelry box sat on the floor, its lid broken—not damaged beyond repair, but clearly handled in a hurry.
The third drawer of Clara’s writing desk was locked.
The brass key fit perfectly.
Inside was a blue folder, a black flash drive, and a sealed envelope with my name on it.
I stared at the envelope for almost a minute before opening it.
Alex,
If you are reading this, I wasn’t able to reach you. Start with Route 17 and the 11:40 call. The person who says he is protecting your job may be the person using it against you.
I love you. Please believe Lily. Please listen to Arthur. And please don’t let anyone rush you into saying goodbye before you know the truth.
Love,
Clara
Under the letter was a printed list of fourteen Northstar invoices. Each one had been paid to a company called Cedar Peak Consulting. The amounts ranged from $8,200 to $48,600.
At the bottom of the page, Clara had circled one employee identification number.
Mine.
Detective Reyes read the documents without touching them.
“Did you know about these invoices?”
“No.”
“Did your wife work for Northstar?”
“She used to. She left eighteen months ago to stay home with Lily. But Clara had worked in the billing department for almost a decade. She could recognize a false route number from across a room.”
Detective Reyes nodded toward the flash drive.
“We’ll take this as evidence. Do you know what’s on it?”
“No.”
Arthur made a strained sound from the doorway.
He had managed to follow us upstairs with the help of an officer. His face was pale, but his eyes were fixed on the blue folder.
Detective Reyes crouched beside him.
“Mr. Mercer, can you tell us what happened?”
Arthur reached for the communication tablet strapped to his wheelchair. His fingers shook as he tapped the screen.
The device spoke each word in a flat electronic voice.
“Clara gave me the key.”
My breath caught.
Arthur continued typing.
“She came to me Tuesday morning. Derek followed her. She said, ‘If Alex comes home, he must find the drawer.’”
The room blurred in front of me.
“What happened after that?” Detective Reyes asked.
Arthur closed his eyes, gathering strength.
“Derek opened the bedroom door. Clara said no. Teresa took Clara’s phone. Clara asked for help. Then Clara held her chest and sat down.”
He stopped typing.
