Chapter 5 - The Father Who Never Left
For two years, I had told myself Nathan Cole abandoned us.
That belief had hurt.
But the possibility that he had been trying to reach us was worse.
I stared at his photograph until my eyes burned.
"When was this taken?"
Detective Bennett examined the back.
"We don't have a confirmed date yet."
"The sign was installed in May," I said. "It can't be older than five months."
Lucas leaned closer.
"Look at his hand."
Nathan was holding a folded piece of paper.
Only the corner was visible.
I recognized the blue border.
It looked like the stationery I used for Maisie's birthday invitations.
I had mailed invitations to relatives six weeks earlier.
One had gone to my father's office because he complained that I never gave him enough notice about family events.
Had Nathan been there because of Maisie's birthday?
Had he known she was turning two?
Had someone told him?
Detective Bennett took the photograph back.
"We'll examine it. For now, please don't contact anyone connected to Gerald."
I nodded.
But that night, after she left, I opened the old email account I had used when Nathan and I were together.
I hadn't checked it in months.
There were advertisements.
Receipts.
Old job applications.
And seventeen messages in the spam folder from an unfamiliar address.
The first was dated nearly two years earlier.
Three weeks after Maisie's birth.
I don't know if you're getting these. Please tell me she's okay.
My breath caught.
I opened the next.
Your father says you don't want me near you. I need to hear that from you.
The third:
I went to the apartment. Someone said you moved. I left a letter at the store.
Then another.
Please don't believe whatever Warren told you.
I read every message.
Nathan had written for eleven months.
Then the messages stopped.
The final one contained a single sentence.
If something happens to me, ask your father about the Millbrook property.
I looked up.
"Lucas."
He was asleep in the chair.
"Lucas, wake up."
He opened his eyes immediately.
"What happened?"
I handed him the phone.
He read the messages.
His expression changed from confusion to anger.
"Did you ever see these?"
"No."
"Could your parents access this account?"
I thought back.
When Maisie was born, my mother had offered to help with bills and paperwork.
She had asked for my email password to print insurance documents.
I had given it to her.
At the time, I was exhausted, recovering from childbirth, and grateful for help.
"Elaine knew the password," I whispered.
Lucas scrolled.
"These were marked as spam."
"She could have set up a filter."
He looked at me.
"We need to show Bennett."
We did.
By morning, investigators had requested the email records.
Meanwhile, Maisie continued improving.
She was awake longer, though she tired quickly and cried whenever a nurse approached.
Dr. Sloan said her recovery was moving in the right direction.
I wanted to celebrate.
Instead, I spent every quiet moment wondering what had happened to Nathan.
Late that afternoon, Detective Bennett returned.
She looked more tired than usual.
"We located Nathan Cole."
My heart stopped.
"Where?"
"At a medical rehabilitation facility outside Pittsburgh."
I stared at her.
"Why?"
"He's been receiving treatment following a serious injury."
"What injury?"
"An automobile collision approximately eleven months ago."
Eleven months.
The same time his emails stopped.
"Is he alive?"
"Yes."
"Can I speak to him?"
"Not yet. We're working with his care team and legal representative."
"Does he know about Maisie?"
Bennett hesitated.
"We believe he does."
I sat down.
For years, I had pictured Nathan living somewhere sunny, forgetting us.
Instead, he had been sending messages.
Trying to find us.
Then he had been injured.
And somehow my father was connected to all of it.
"What's the Millbrook property?" Bennett asked.
I looked up.
"It's a warehouse Dad bought years ago."
"Where?"
"Outside town. He used it for surplus inventory."
"Does he still own it?"
"I think so."
Bennett wrote something down.
Then she asked a question that seemed unrelated.
"Did your father ever tell you how Holloway Home & Tool was originally financed?"
I frowned.
"My grandfather started the business."
"On your father's side?"
"No. My mother's father."
"Do you know who inherited it?"
"Dad always said he bought out the estate."
Bennett studied me.
"Have you seen the documents?"
"No."
"Would it surprise you to learn that your grandfather left part of the business to you?"
I blinked.
"How much?"
"According to a copy of the estate records we've obtained, your grandfather created a trust naming you as a beneficiary."
I stared at her.
"My father told me Grandpa left everything to him and Mom."
"That doesn't appear to be accurate."
Lucas sat forward.
"What kind of trust?"
"A substantial one. We're still reviewing the terms."
My pulse quickened.
"Why would Dad hide that?"
Bennett closed her notebook.
"That's what we need to determine."
That evening, a hospital volunteer delivered an envelope to my room.
There was no return address.
Inside was a photograph of Nathan holding a newborn Maisie.
I had never seen it.
On the back, in Nathan's handwriting, were the words:
I promised her I'd come back.
Beneath them was a second message, written in different ink.
May you like
Your father didn't just steal your money.
He stole the reason Nathan disappeared.
