Chapter 27

“Okay, well, first thing’s first, we have to know everything,” I say, pulling the journal back from where it lies on the ground. I turn to the last page we were on and keep reading Vera’s story.

The entries are heartbreaking and eye opening, flipping everything I thought I knew about Vera on its head. She was nothing like I thought. I judged her, misunderstood her. I couldn’t see her pain through my own.

My eyes brim with tears when I read the kind things she says about me, about us. I just wish I’d known before she was gone. I wish I could’ve heard this from her in the flesh.

When I come to an entry that talks about a logbook, I read it twice. Names, reasons…

…I pull it out from the secret place.

Another secret.

Cole reads it a few seconds after I have, his finger shooting out toward the page as he reads the words aloud. He looks at me, eyes wide. There’s still a sadness there, an emptiness that hurts somewhere deep inside me, but it’s been replaced by curiosity. Even as broken as he is by what we’ve discovered, he wants to learn more. “A logbook?”

“Hidden in a secret place. Was there anything else in the hidden place in the wall where we found the gun?” I ask him.

He shakes his head but moves toward the panel to check. “I don’t think so.” He eases Vera’s boots out of the way and feels for the panel, pressing in on the wall when he finds it. The moveable piece of the wall leans in, allowing him space to reach his hand forward into the darkness. His hand searches in the shadows before I move toward him with my phone’s flashlight, scanning the small space. “Nothing,” he says after a moment. “What about where you found the journal?”

I shake my head. “It was really small. I don’t think there’d be room for anything other than this, but I’ll double-check too.” I stand and cross the room, pulling open her drawer and pushing the panel back to search. I run my hand across the entire space, but I find nothing. “There has to be somewhere else. Another secret hiding place.”

“I’d bet Vera has hiding places all over this house,” Cole agrees, sounding wary.

“Yes, but the closet seems to be where she’s hiding most of the important stuff. We need to check everywhere.”

He appears dubious but doesn’t argue. Instead, he sets to work examining the wall while I turn back to the dresser. I press against the backs of each drawer then scan underneath the dresser and along the bottom, searching for anything that might look suspicious, but I only find dust and cobwebs. I move to the other dresser and do the same, then search the backs of both.

Nothing.

I begin to check the carpet, searching for any loose or bumpy parts. When Cole is done checking the wall, we move to the bedroom, checking underneath her mattress and behind her nightstand.

But still, we find nothing. I pull at random books on her bookshelves, thinking it might be like the movies where touching the right book reveals a secret passageway, but nothing opens up. There is nothing, not even a hint at what Vera might be talking about.

Eventually, Cole sighs. “We should read more. Maybe she eventually tells where it’s hidden. Otherwise, we’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”

I agree, but as my eyes fall on the clock, I gasp. It’s just past noon.

Shoot.

“We need to install the camera,” I tell him. “It came at some point last night, and if anyone drops off a letter midday like they did yesterday, I want to be sure we catch them. Especially if there’s a chance they might go to the police. You were right before. This all affects your mom now, too.”

He nods. “Okay, how about this: I’ll work on installing it, and you keep reading the journal. Deal?”

“Deal.” I follow him out of the room and down to the dining room. He’s solemn as he opens the camera box and begins evaluating the pieces. I know there must be a million things running through his head, thoughts and emotions I can hardly fathom, but he’s clearly trying not to show it. I reach forward and squeeze his hand just once, and he squeezes mine back, not looking up, before I take a seat and open the journal.

I wonder where in the house Vera wrote the most? Did she ever sit in this exact spot? I can’t imagine so, with people always around, but maybe. I try to recall ever seeing this book, but I can’t.

This was another piece of her life she kept hidden from me.

Turning the pages, I search for the last entry I read, and my heart sinks. “There are only two more entries,” I tell him softly. “Then she stopped writing.”

“What?” He pauses what he’s doing, staring at me. “Are you sure?”

I flip through the back of the journal so he can see what I can. Most of the pages here are still blank. Without saying another word, I start reading, stopping only when I’ve finished the first entry.

“She sent us away to protect us,” I whisper, clutching my heart. Tears brim my eyes.

“Read it to me,” Cole says, unscrewing the back of the camera.

I clear my throat and begin reading Vera’s words aloud, choking up several times and having to stop to compose myself. When I’m done rereading the entry, I look up at him. “She sent me away to protect me. It was never because she…” I can’t finish the sentence, though I do in my mind.

Because she didn’t love me.

Because she didn’t want me.

Because she wished I’d never moved in.

Because she finally didn’t have to pretend anymore.

He nods, seeming to understand without the words, but he doesn’t push me to fill in any more. “What’s the last entry say?”

“Right. Here we go.” I turn the page and begin to read.