The Mermaid's Mirror

Chapter 26

"Lena, want anything from the store?" called her dad.

"No, thanks," said Lena. "Wait! Yes, I do. Could you get me some sushi from Miso on Main for lunch?"

Miso on Main was always packed with day-trippers on the weekends. By the time her dad finished the grocery shopping, he would have to wait twenty minutes or more for a sushi order.

"Well, I wasn't really planning on going there."

"Oh, Dad, come on. I have a craving for shrimp rolls with seaweed."

"What a surprise," she heard him mutter from below. "Fine, I'll add that to my list."

She hung over the banister. "Thanks, Dad. Love you."

"Love you, too. See you in an hour or so."

Lena listened to the back door close, the car engine start, and the garage door open and close.

Then, with a reluctant step, she entered her parents' bedroom. Her mom was at a wedding and would not be back for hours. Cole was across the street at Austin's house. As squicky as she felt at the idea of invading her parents' privacy, Lena knew she might not get another chance to search their room. And her desire to unlock this mystery was stronger than her guilt.

For the past week, she had spent every spare moment looking through all the cupboards, drawers, and closets in the house, except in her parents' room. She had even wandered around outside in the front and back yards, fretting over a possible buried chest, and wondering if she would have to dig up every square foot of garden.

Somehow, after wearing the key close to her heart for seven days, she felt that it would not lead her astray. And she did not believe the lock she sought was underground.

Pulling the key from under her shirt, Lena held it loosely in her hand for a moment, as if seeking guidance. The sun had gone behind a cloud, making her parents' bedroom seem darker than usual. She smelled the scent of her mom's jasmine lotion and her dad's woodsy after-shave.

Where to start?

Lena looked at the bedside tables. On her mom's side was a stack of books, mostly mysteries, with a gardening magazine lying on top. On her father's side was just one book, a Stephen King paperback. Lena didn't know how he could read horror novels and then fall asleep, but he loved them. She glanced at her mom's dresser drawer and opened it. Mostly just lacy, silky things, wafting the scent of jasmine up to her more strongly. She closed the drawer hastily. She paused at her father's drawer.

Ew, what if there are ... marital things ... in there? she thought. Her mind skated over the idea like it was a patch of black ice.

Holding her breath, she pulled the drawer open and glanced inside quickly, making sure there was nothing like a locked box, then shut the drawer. Whew.

She turned to their big mahogany bureau next. Coins, scraps of paper, a book of crossword puzzles, and various other objects littered the top. A large cobalt-blue hand—used for holding rings and other pieces of jewelry—stood at one end of the bureau. It was, of course, a gift from Grandma Kath. Lena shuddered. That disembodied hand, frozen in a blue-fingered reach, had always creeped her out. Trying not to look at the hand, Lena opened and closed the drawers, scanning their contents cursorily.

She turned away from the bureau with relief and examined their closet. It was about five feet across, with two sliding mirrored doors pulled shut. Avoiding her guilty reflection, she opened the right side door and looked at the rows of shoeboxes on the shelf. Dragging a chair over to the closet, she stood up on it and opened the box closest to her. Cards and letters addressed to her mom from her dad. She closed the lid. The next box held old CDs. The third and fourth boxes were full of letters, postcards, and photos from other friends and family. None of these boxes seemed to contain anything that Lena should be looking through. Another pang of guilt nudged her.

Shoving aside the shoeboxes, Lena looked deeper on the shelf. At the very end on the left side was a larger metal box, like something for holding files. Now, that looks promising, she thought, noting its lock. She couldn't reach it from her position on the chair, so she got down, closed the right side door, and opened the left. Then she moved the chair to the other side of the closet. She paused to look at the clock. Her dad had been gone for about half an hour.

She climbed up onto the chair again and reached for the metal box. Disappointed, she saw that the lock was too small for her key, and anyway, the box wasn't locked. The tabs on the folders inside read Archive Bank Statements, Past Tax Returns, Legal Documents, and Old. Strange that her parents kept this in the closet instead of in Dad's office.

Lena climbed down off the chair and sat on the floor. She pulled out the file marked Legal Documents. There were the birth certificates for Lena and Cole, and the marriage certificate for her parents: Brian Wayne Whittaker and Allison Lee Briggs.

She glanced at the last legal document. It was a death certificate.

Lena stared at it in dismay. There was her mother's name, Lucy Whittaker, no middle initial. Under cause of death was typed: Suicide by drowning.