CHAPTER 8: TWO STORIES FROM ONE MAN

I sent the footage to Ortiz rather than driving to Martin’s apartment.
She asked me to refrain from contacting him until she could establish what the recording showed.
I agreed, then spent the afternoon staring at the sealed letter addressed to Claire Warren.
The urge to open it was nearly unbearable.
My father had hidden it inside a wall.
Patricia had destroyed a mailbox because she believed another letter was coming.
Martin had lied about the extent of his involvement.
All three actions seemed to point toward Claire.
I found a recent business listing for her in a town outside Asheville.


She worked as a nurse in a rehabilitation clinic.
I dialed the clinic and asked whether I could leave a message.
The receptionist took my number.
Claire called at 7:36 that evening.
She recognized my name before I explained why I was calling.
“Is this about Laurel?” she asked.
My throat closed.
“I think so.”
Claire was quiet for a long time.
Then she said she had been waiting for my father to tell me the truth.
I explained his death and the hidden letters.
“Don’t open the envelope,” she said immediately.
“Why?”
“Because Thomas promised it would only be opened with the right people present.

”
“Who are the right people?”
“A lawyer, you, me, and one other person.”
“Patricia?”
“No,” Claire answered sharply.
“Never Patricia.”
I asked whether Laurel was alive.
Claire drew a shaky breath.
“I can tell you she was alive ten years after she disappeared.”
I sat down on the kitchen floor.
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know,” Claire said.
“But I know why she stayed away.”