CHAPTER 8: TWO STORIES FROM ONE MAN
I sent the footage to Ortiz rather than driving to Martin’s apartment.
She asked me to refrain from contacting him until she could establish what the recording showed.
I agreed, then spent the afternoon staring at the sealed letter addressed to Claire Warren.
The urge to open it was nearly unbearable.
My father had hidden it inside a wall.
Patricia had destroyed a mailbox because she believed another letter was coming.
Martin had lied about the extent of his involvement.
All three actions seemed to point toward Claire.
I found a recent business listing for her in a town outside Asheville.
She worked as a nurse in a rehabilitation clinic.
I dialed the clinic and asked whether I could leave a message.
The receptionist took my number.
Claire called at 7:36 that evening.
She recognized my name before I explained why I was calling.
“Is this about Laurel?” she asked.
My throat closed.
“I think so.”
Claire was quiet for a long time.
Then she said she had been waiting for my father to tell me the truth.
I explained his death and the hidden letters.
“Don’t open the envelope,” she said immediately.
“Why?”
“Because Thomas promised it would only be opened with the right people present.”
“Who are the right people?”
“A lawyer, you, me, and one other person.”
“Patricia?”
“No,” Claire answered sharply.
“Never Patricia.”
I asked whether Laurel was alive.
Claire drew a shaky breath.
“I can tell you she was alive ten years after she disappeared.”
I sat down on the kitchen floor.
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know,” Claire said.
“But I know why she stayed away.”
