Chapter 3 - What Nora Was Afraid to SayNora hid the drawing inside a book about butterflies.
It was one of the few books her mother had read to her before she died.
The pages were thick and glossy, and one corner had a small stain from strawberry juice.
Nora remembered her mother's voice more clearly than her face.
She remembered being called Little Star.
She remembered warm hands turning pages.
And she remembered that her mother always waited until Nora finished speaking.
Other adults interrupted.
Especially when the truth was inconvenient.
At breakfast on Sunday, Celeste placed pancakes in front of Nora.
She had cut them into small triangles.
"Your favorite."
Nora did not touch them.
Daniel sat at the far end of the table, reading something on his tablet.
Celeste leaned closer.
"Your father's very upset about Friday."
Nora stared at her plate.
"I know."
"He loves you so much. Sometimes love makes people do things they regret."
Nora looked toward Daniel.
"Is Hannah coming back?"
Celeste's smile weakened.
"That wouldn't be appropriate."
"She helped me."
"We've talked about this."
Nora lowered her head.
Celeste kept her voice gentle.
"Adults have to make difficult decisions. Sometimes children only see part of what happened."
Nora pushed a triangle of pancake across the plate.
"But you opened—"
Celeste rested a hand on Nora's wrist.
Not hard.
Just firmly enough to stop her.
"Nora."
The girl fell silent.
Daniel looked up.
"What's wrong?"
Celeste released Nora's wrist.
"Nothing. She's still overwhelmed."
Daniel studied his daughter.
"Would you like to spend some time with me today?"
Nora nodded.
"Just us?"
Something in the question bothered him.
"Of course."
Celeste stood.
"That sounds lovely."
But when Nora walked away, Celeste remained beside Daniel.
"You need to be careful about the questions you're asking her."
"What do you mean?"
"Children can develop false memories when frightened adults keep questioning them."
Daniel frowned.
"I asked whether she wanted to spend time with me."
"I'm talking about Hannah."
He set down the tablet.
"She told me Hannah caught her."
"Well, of course Hannah caught her. That doesn't mean she didn't cause the problem."
Daniel looked toward the garden.
The trampoline was still standing.
He had ordered the groundskeeper to secure it, but he had not personally inspected it.
"Maybe I should have someone examine the equipment."
Celeste's expression changed.
"Daniel, are you suggesting I'm lying?"
"I didn't say that."
"You don't need to. I know what it sounds like."
She walked toward the kitchen.
Daniel watched her go.
Until recently, he would have followed and apologized.
This time, he stayed seated.
Hannah spent Sunday afternoon at Ellis Grant's office.
The building was modest, with narrow corridors and windows overlooking a parking garage.
Ellis had examined her photographs and copied the original video files using a forensic preservation procedure documented by his investigator.
He displayed one image on a large monitor.
The trampoline entry clasp was fully fastened.
The date and time were visible in the video metadata.
"That proves it was closed when you recorded this," he said.
"And open when Nora fell."
"Yes."
"Someone opened it."
"That's a reasonable conclusion, assuming the clasp wasn't defective. But we need to establish whether it could release accidentally."
Hannah nodded.
She disliked hearing uncertainty about something she felt certain of.
Yet Ellis was right.
Knowing something and proving it were different matters.
He opened her photograph of the beige thread.
"Did you collect this?"
"No. I didn't want anyone saying I'd tampered with it."
"Good."
"Do you think it's from Celeste's dress?"
"Possibly. But photographs alone won't identify a fabric source reliably."
Hannah folded her arms.
"What do we do?"
"We preserve evidence and find out who serviced the cameras."
"And Bellweather?"
Ellis opened a county parcel map.
North of the Vale mansion, sixty-two acres of woodland appeared under a separate tax parcel.
The owner was listed as:
Daniel Vale, Trustee of the Nora E. Vale Testamentary Trust.
Hannah leaned forward.
"Nora owns the woods?"
"Her trust does."
"Her mother used to take her there."
"Did you know the land belonged to the trust?"
"No."
Ellis highlighted a neighboring tract.
Its owner was an entity called Bellweather Conservation LLC.
According to recently recorded documents, Bellweather had acquired an option to purchase an adjoining parcel.
"That doesn't prove misconduct," Ellis said. "But it gives us something specific to investigate."
Hannah stared at the map.
She remembered Celeste watching surveyors through the kitchen window.
She remembered asking why the marked trees were near Emma's favorite walking path.
And she remembered the way Celeste's face had hardened.
"She knew I was asking questions."
"Perhaps."
"Then she tried to make Daniel hate me."
Ellis looked at her carefully.
"Don't get ahead of the evidence."
Hannah looked away.
"I know."
But in her mind, the pieces were beginning to connect.
That afternoon, Daniel took Nora into the greenhouse.
Emma had loved growing herbs, and Daniel had kept the greenhouse maintained after her death even though he rarely visited it.
Nora stood beside a row of rosemary plants.
"Mommy said rosemary remembers things," she said.
Daniel smiled sadly.
"She did."
Nora touched a leaf.
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Can somebody be a good person and do a bad thing?"
Daniel thought of Hannah.
And then of himself.
"Yes," he said. "People can make terrible mistakes."
"Do they have to tell the truth afterward?"
He crouched.
"They should."
Nora turned toward him.
"Even when somebody gets angry?"
Daniel's throat tightened.
"Especially then."
For a moment, Nora seemed ready to speak.
Her lips parted.
Then Celeste appeared outside the greenhouse, visible through the glass.
Nora's expression closed.
Daniel followed her gaze.
Celeste lifted a hand and waved.
Nora did not wave back.
That evening, while Nora was bathing, Celeste entered her bedroom to put away some laundry.
The butterfly book lay on the bed.
A corner of folded paper protruded between its pages.
Celeste pulled it free.
She studied the picture.
The girl.
The trampoline.
The woman in beige.
And the words written beneath.
Her face went very still.
She folded the paper into quarters and slipped it into her pocket.
Then she went downstairs and opened the fireplace in Daniel's study.
She dropped the drawing onto the logs.
May you like
But before she could reach for the lighter, Daniel spoke behind her.
"What are you burning?"
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