Chapter 7 - What Junie Heard Through the Door
Junie drew the ocean with a purple crayon.
Celia watched from the kitchen table.
“That's a very interesting color for water.”
“It's nighttime water.”
“Ah. Of course.”
Junie added a crooked yellow shape beside the waves.
“What's that?”
“My dress.”
Celia's smile faded.
Junie colored slowly.
“Grandma?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Why do grown-ups say they love you when they don't?”
Celia put down her coffee.
“That's a big question.”
“Corinne said she loved me at the wedding.”
“I remember.”
“She gave me the flower bracelet.”
“You looked very pretty.”
Junie studied her drawing.
“She said I could call her Mommy if I wanted.”
“And did you want to?”
Junie shook her head.
“I already had a mommy.”
Celia reached across the table.
“You certainly did.”
Junie pressed the purple crayon so hard it snapped.
She looked frightened.
“Sorry.”
“It's a crayon, honey. It had a good life.”
That earned a tiny smile.
Then Junie asked, “Can I tell you something without Daddy getting mad?”
Celia leaned forward.
“You can tell me anything. And we'll think carefully about what to do with it.”
Junie looked toward the hallway.
“Corinne and Uncle Nathan had a fight.”
“When?”
“Before the boat.”
“At the house?”
Junie nodded.
“I was looking for my bunny.”
“What happened?”
“They were in Daddy's office.”
Celia didn't interrupt.
“Uncle Nathan said, ‘The little girl knows more than you think.’”
Celia went still.
“And Corinne said, ‘She's five. She doesn't know anything.’”
“Did they see you?”
“No. I was in the hallway.”
Junie turned the broken crayon over.
“Then Uncle Nathan said somebody would find out about the pictures.”
“What pictures?”
“I don't know.”
“Did he say anything else?”
Junie nodded.
“He said, ‘If Adrian sees them, we're finished.’”
Celia's heart began pounding.
She kept her voice gentle.
“Junie, did you tell anyone about what you heard?”
“I told Corinne.”
Celia held very still.
“What did you say?”
“I asked if they lost Daddy's pictures.”
“And what did she do?”
Junie's eyes filled.
“She squeezed my arm.”
Celia moved around the table.
“Oh, honey.”
“She said I shouldn't listen when grown-ups talk.”
“Did she hurt you?”
“A little.”
Junie showed her a faint yellowing bruise near her upper arm.
Celia drew in a slow breath.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“No.”
“Is Corinne?”
Celia hesitated.
“That's for the grown-ups who investigate these things to decide.”
Junie looked relieved, then worried again.
“Will Daddy still love her?”
Celia didn't know how to answer.
Later that morning, she informed Adrian and the child protection specialist about Junie's disclosure. Adrian wanted to question his daughter immediately.
The specialist advised him not to.
“She's already told someone,” she explained. “We should preserve that account and let the trained interviewer handle the details.”
Adrian nodded reluctantly.
He was beginning to understand that helping Junie sometimes meant resisting the urge to control everything.
That afternoon, he searched his home office.
Nothing seemed missing.
Then he noticed that a decorative wooden frame on the shelf had been moved.
It held a photograph of Elise, Junie, and Adrian taken on a beach in Maine.
Behind it, the wall was scratched.
He lifted the frame.
A small square of newer paint covered a section near the bookshelf.
Adrian fetched a flashlight.
The patch concealed a shallow compartment used years earlier to hide spare keys and valuable documents.
He'd forgotten it existed.
He pried open the cover.
Inside was an empty plastic sleeve.
A label remained attached.
E.W. — Original photographs — DO NOT SCAN.
Adrian stared.
Elise's initials.
Original photographs.
Someone had found the compartment before him.
His phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
Stop looking for the photographs. Your daughter got lucky once.
Adrian felt cold all over.
May you like
This wasn't just a secret anymore.
Someone was threatening Junie.
