Chapter 4 - Secrets in the Shadows
By midnight, the storm had turned into a steady, misting drizzle.
Caleb pulled his black SUV onto the gravel driveway of a modest, two-story craftsman house nestled in the coastal hills ten miles north of the city. The property had belonged to his late mother, left directly to him outside of the Mercer family corporate umbrella—a place Victoria had never stepped foot in.
He carried a sleeping Sadie inside, her small head resting against his neck, her tiny arms still loosely wrapped around the neck of Barnaby the stuffed rabbit.
After tucking her into the master bedroom under a heavy feather duvet, Caleb walked down to the kitchen, switched on a single lamp, and pulled out his phone.
He dialed a number he hadn't called in years.
“Marcus,” Caleb said the moment the line connected. “I need a favor. And I need it off the books.”
On the other end, Marcus Vance—a former state detective turned independent private investigator—let out a low whistle. “Caleb? It’s midnight. What happened?”
“I found Mara’s daughter,” Caleb said, leaning his forearms against the kitchen counter. “She’s five years old. Victoria spent the last six years trying to bury her in the foster system.”
A heavy silence hung over the line for three seconds.
“I knew Victoria was ruthless,” Marcus said grimy, “but hiding a child? That’s federal territory. What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to dig into the agency that handled Sadie’s placement,” Caleb said. “The paperwork says she was placed through St. Jude’s Family Services in County Clare. I want to know who signed the emergency custody order after Mara died two months ago. And I want to know how much money Victoria’s private foundation transferred to that agency’s directors.”
“Consider it done,” Marcus replied. “And Caleb? Watch your back. Victoria doesn't lose gracefully. If she feels threatened, she will use every dirty asset she has to protect herself.”
“I’m not afraid of her anymore, Marcus,” Caleb said flatly. “I’m done being afraid.”
He hung up the phone and walked back upstairs to the bedroom.
Sadie was tossing fitfully under the blanket, whimpering softly in her sleep. Caleb sat on the edge of the bed, gently stroking her forehead until her breathing smoothed out.
As he moved her gray suitcase to the corner of the room, the worn plush rabbit fell out of the open zipper pocket.
Caleb picked up the toy. It was faded and threadbare, its gray felt fur worn away around the paws. But as he adjusted the rabbit’s body, his thumb pressed against something hard buried deep inside the stuffing of the toy’s lower belly.
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It wasn't cotton. It was a rectangular piece of plastic and metal.
Caleb looked at the stitching along the rabbit’s back. It had been carefully opened and resewn with heavy black thread—not the work of a child, but the precise handiwork of a mother desperate to hide a secret.
