“I didn’t see my dad a lot in the week before I was taken,” she said. “But he did seem off. I worried that he was sinking back into depression. But he seemed antsy too. I don’t know. My dad went through mood swings, and he had for years. He’d seen a therapist for a while, and it’d seemed to help.” She paused, looking troubled. “I wish I would have suggested he make an appointment, but . . . well, the way he was acting wasn’t abnormal, so mostly I hoped it would pass as it had before and just tried to stay busy. I was busy. But . . . yes, to . . . set you up to be tortured, he had to have come upon something new. It broke him. It bent his mind, and it made him do something appalling.”
Evan agreed that it had to be something new. The man had lived with his wife’s death, the knowledge of her betrayal, and the outcome of the trial that followed for many years. From what Evan understood, he’d just been getting his life back on track . . . was working regularly and managing his debt. His daughter was thriving in school. She hadn’t gone missing yet. So what happened? And if Evan himself had been the target, how and why had someone determined that Noelle be caged too? And with him? He knew they were missing something.
Noelle was chewing at the inside of her cheek. “What about that photo of the weird website from what could be your home theater room?” she asked.
He didn’t have the photo in front of him, but he conjured it then. It had reminded him of the camel-colored leather, but . . . it was the smallest corner. As evidence, it was pretty shaky. But if it was their home theater, and if the website had been part of what they’d experienced, and if it was his father watching it when the photo had been taken, then maybe that’s what led her father to become aware of the whole thing. Those were a lot of maybes and too many ifs. “You think my dad might have been viewing that site and your dad found out?” Evan asked.
“Well, maybe. But first . . . if it was your home in that photo, where did it come from? And how did my dad know your father was involved in anything like that?” She paused briefly. “Could Dow have sneaked in and taken it?”
“Based on what? Also, security’s pretty tight at the Sinclair manor.” It was a good question, though. “Dow did have the photo, so if he didn’t take it, then your father must have found it and given it to him,” Evan said.
“And then he used the information from the computer to hack into some dark internet site.”
They were both quiet as they digested that. “Okay, so where did my dad get it?”
“Could your mother have taken it?”
She blinked.
“There was a photo on your mother’s camera. She had it in her purse that night, and the police took it. The photo came out in court that proved your mother’s affair with my father.”
She let out a breath, briefly closing her eyes. “You think that could be a photo she took on another occasion? From what I know, there was only one photo. But it spoke volumes, apparently.”
Yes. From what he’d heard whispered around his house by the staff, it was a photo of his father’s private parts. Parts that had been proved to be his by a mole or some other identifiable attribute. It was all so humiliating and sleazy. No wonder Noelle’s father had nearly lost his mind.
“Maybe there were more from that original batch. Maybe the others told a different story.”
Her eyes widened briefly. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” he said. The last thing he wanted to do was give her hope that things had been different than the trial made them out to be. Because, truthfully, any other potential photos might tell a story that was worse than the one that had been told, not better.
He thought her mind had traveled along a similar path by the worried frown on her face. “My mother’s books,” she said.
“Her books? From that box?”
She nodded. “Now that I think about it, it’s sort of weird that they’re in there. I’d put my mom’s favorite books on my bookshelf after she died.” She scratched her head. “I can’t remember if they were missing from my bookshelf when I packed up the house, but . . . that whole period is blurry. But if they had been on my shelf, they would have been packed up with my other belongings, and I’d have taken them to South Carolina. Instead, they were in a box with my father’s things. Including the organizer he’d been using until the day he died.”
“What would he have been doing with your mother’s books in the days before his death?”
“I don’t know. But I think we should go back to my room and go through them more thoroughly.” Despite the certainty in her eyes, he also saw the fear. Since last night, so much of what she thought she’d known had been set ablaze. And they were about to walk farther into the fire.
They’d come out of a burning inferno once before, however, and they could do it again. He knew they could.
He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckle. “Together,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Evan watched as Noelle tore open the tape on the box that she’d already secured in preparation for shipping and then unfolded the flaps. He saw her swallow as she lifted the things from the top, setting them aside. Her father’s things. Her mother’s books were at the bottom of the box, and she took them out, laying all six of them on the bed and sitting down.
Evan followed suit, picking up the copy of Little Women and thumbing through it. He held the front and back of the hardcover and tipped it before he gave it a small shake in case something fell out from between the pages that he’d missed. Nothing.
He picked up the second book near his thigh, beginning to do the same when Noelle pulled in a breath. He looked up, and she turned the book in her hands toward him. The inside was cut out to form a small hidden compartment.
“Oh shit,” he said, dropping the book in his hands. “What’s in it?”
Noelle, wide eyed, laid the book on the bed and took the piece of paper out that was on top, unfolding it. Evan saw that her hands were shaking.
Her eyes moved over the paper, and she looked up at him, her expression set in confusion. “It’s a travel itinerary,” she said. “To Hawaii.”
“Hawaii?”
She nodded, reading over the paper again and then handing it to Evan. He took it and skimmed it, confirming that it was travel plans. It looked like her mother had been planning a trip to Hawaii.
“It was my dad’s dream to go there,” she said distractedly.
“Was your mom planning a trip for them?”
“I mean . . . it was about to be their anniversary. But . . . Evan, if she was having an affair, why plan a romantic trip to the place my dad had always dreamed of going?”
He had no answer for that. “What else is in there?”
Noelle had been staring off behind him for a second, obviously attempting to work out that puzzle. At his question, she gave her head a small shake and then removed a folded envelope from the small compartment and unfolded it. She pulled out a short stack of photos. “Oh my God,” she breathed, dropping them like they’d burned her skin.
Evan picked one up, bringing it closer to his face. His own hand was shaking too. That was definitely his home theater, the way it had looked many years ago, when he was a teenager. Before and after Noelle’s mother was shot. Bile moved up his throat at what became clear. He wanted to shut his eyes, to throw away the horrific evidence of what had been caught on film.
The photo was from behind the couch, near the doorway, he estimated. A man could be seen sitting in front of the screen, his hand on his genitals. A small portion of the screen showed in the upper corner. The edge of a cage and what looked like something unidentifiably bloody behind the bars. “Oh Jesus,” he gasped, dropping the photo as well.
It was his father. He was sure of it. The photo had been taken from behind. It had to have been Noelle’s mother who’d taken it. There was no intimacy happening. His father hadn’t known she was there.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The Sinclair estate was far more massive than she’d pictured it. And she’d pictured it often, because she’d imagined her mother’s death again and again. She’d seen her as the news articles and live reports had described her: a vindictive, jilted lover, obsessed with the man who had recently broken her heart.
It hadn’t made sense as far as the woman Noelle had known her to be, even though the story had never wavered.