“Why didn’t she tell us?” he asked.
Emily had asked herself the same question since Gideon’s visit.
This time she heard the answer in the small practical details Nora had left behind.
Their mother had taken two jobs, moved repeatedly, and checked every unfamiliar car that slowed outside their home.
She had protected the children in front of her while carrying questions about those she could not protect.
“Maybe she thought knowing would put us in danger,” Emily said.
Danny closed the notebook gently.
“It didn’t keep her from being afraid.”
Rosa brought them sandwiches neither sibling wanted.
She sat with them anyway and let the quiet remain quiet.
Later, Emily called Walter Vale and read him the entry about Peter.
He asked to see the notebook before making any judgment.
Emily admired his caution.
Walter had spent twenty years listening to people who promised they had finally found the answer.
He was unwilling to let another uncertain clue become a final story.
Danny offered to scan the pages at his workplace.
Emily refused to let the originals leave Rosa’s kitchen until they had photographed every page.
They used an old phone stand and a desk lamp, moving slowly to capture the handwriting clearly.
Danny arranged the scans by the dates Nora had written.
One entry near the end was not in Nora’s hand.
It had been added in dark blue ink.
“Ask Gideon about the road to Mercer Hill,” the line read.
Emily looked toward the window.
A truck passed the bakery on the wet street below.
She could not tell whether the note was a warning, an accusation, or a plea.
She knew only that someone other than her mother had written in the book.
That meant Nora had not been searching alone.
Chapter Nine: The Road to Mercer Hill
The road to Mercer Hill climbed through abandoned farmland above the river and ended near a rusted gate.
Julian said the property had once housed a training center for company drivers.
It closed after a fire damaged the kitchen and two dormitory wings.
Emily insisted that Walter and Rosa come with them.
Danny drove a separate vehicle because he refused to depend on a Mercer chauffeur.
Gideon met them beside the gate wearing an ordinary raincoat instead of his brother’s torn one.
He looked older in daylight.
His face had the worn, private expression of a man who had slept badly for years.
“I haven’t been here since Miriam got sick,” he said.
“Why did she come here?” Emily asked.
