She opened the door wearing a silk robe, her hair perfectly curled, like we had interrupted a magazine shoot.
Behind us stood Adrian, two officers, and a locksmith.
Valerie looked at the court order and smiled.
“You people are so dramatic.”
Grandma said, “Move.”
Valerie stepped aside.
The house smelled different.
Not like Mom’s lemon cleaner. Not like Dad’s coffee.
Like perfume and lilies.
Valerie had already removed half of Mom’s photographs from the walls.
The sight hit me so hard I nearly stumbled.
In the living room, where Mom’s portrait used to hang, Valerie had placed a framed engagement photo of herself and Dad.
Her hand on his chest.
Her ring pointed at the camera.
My mother’s sister.
My father.
I looked away before I threw up.
Adrian led us to the basement.
Dad’s office door was locked.
The locksmith opened it in under a minute.
Inside, everything looked normal at first. Desk. Bookshelves. Filing cabinet. Printer.
Then Grandma pointed to the wall behind the desk.
“That panel is new.”
She was right.
The wood was a slightly different shade.
One officer helped move the desk.
The panel had no handle.
The locksmith pressed along the edges, then found a magnetic latch.
The panel popped open.
Behind it was a small wall safe.
Valerie appeared in the doorway.
“What are you doing?”
Adrian turned.
“Executing a court order.”
“That safe is Jack’s private property.”
The officer said, “Ma’am, step back.”
Valerie’s smile vanished.
The locksmith opened the safe.
Inside were three things.
A stack of cash.
Mom’s missing jewelry box.
And a folder labeled S.C. — Final.
S.C.
Sarah Collins.
My mother.
Grandma made a sound like she had been punched.
Adrian put on gloves before touching anything.
The jewelry box was the one Mom used to keep on her dresser. After she died, Dad told me it had been lost during “cleaning.” I had cried for two days because Mom’s pearl earrings were inside.
They were still there.
So was her gold bracelet.
So was a little silver necklace with a moon charm I had given her when I was twelve.
But beneath the jewelry tray was a sealed envelope.
My name was on it.
Chloe — only if necessary.
Adrian looked at me.
“You don’t have to open it here.”
Valerie laughed from the doorway.
“Oh, open it. Let’s all enjoy Sarah’s little ghost show.”
Grandma turned so sharply Valerie stepped back.
“You are one sentence away from leaving in handcuffs.”
Valerie raised both hands.
But she kept smiling.
I opened the envelope.