Chapter 2 - THE LITTLE BROWN BOX
I didn't sleep that night.
Neither did Noah.
At least, not immediately.
I sat on the edge of his bed while he held the little brown box.
It wasn't large.
Maybe six inches long.
Three inches wide.
Old leather.
A brass clasp.
No initials.
No name.
Nothing that explained why a ten-year-old boy was keeping it beneath his pillow.
"Where did you get it?"
Noah looked down.
"A man gave it to me."
"What man?"
"I don't know."
"Where?"
"At Dad's office."
My stomach tightened.
"When were you at Dad's office?"
"Last Saturday."
Julian had taken him for the weekend.
I remembered.
He had brought Noah home at seven in the evening.
Noah had been quiet.
I had assumed he was tired.
"What happened?"
Noah hesitated.
"Dad was talking to someone."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"What did he look like?"
"Old."
That wasn't helpful.
"How old?"
Noah shrugged.
"Like Grandpa."
My father had been dead for six years.
I took a breath.
"What did the man say?"
Noah's fingers tightened around the box.
"He said Dad shouldn't have invited us."
My heart began racing.
"Invited us where?"
"The wedding."
I stared at him.
"Why?"
"He said the wedding wasn't safe."
I reached for the box.
Noah pulled it away.
"Mom."
"Give it to me."
"No."
"Noah."
"I promised."
"Promised who?"
"The man."
I stared at my son.
"Listen to me. Whatever you promised, you can break it if you're scared."
"I'm not scared."
That answer frightened me.
Because he sounded completely serious.
"What is inside?"
"I don't know."
"Then why are you protecting it?"
"Because he said Dad would take it away."
I sat back.
"What else did he say?"
Noah looked at me.
"He said you were going to be embarrassed."
My throat tightened.
"Embarrassed?"
"At the wedding."
I stared at the box.
"How would he know?"
Noah didn't answer.
Then my phone vibrated.
The same unknown number.
I opened the message.
He knows you're asking questions.
I looked toward Noah.
Another message arrived.
Don't open the box at home.
I immediately called the number.
It went straight to voicemail.
I called again.
Nothing.
Noah watched me.
"Mom?"
"Stay here."
I walked into the hallway.
Then I noticed something.
The front door was unlocked.
I knew I had locked it.
I always locked it.
I walked toward it.
There was nothing outside.
But on the porch sat a small white envelope.
No stamp.
No address.
I opened the door.
Cold night air rushed inside.
I picked up the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Julian.
Victoria.
And Noah.
Taken outside Julian's law firm.
On the back, someone had written:
YOUR SON IS NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS.
I ran back upstairs.
"Noah?"
His bedroom was empty.
My heart stopped.
"Noah!"
I searched the bathroom.
Closet.
Hallway.
Then I heard water running downstairs.
I ran into the kitchen.
Noah stood beside the sink.
The brown box was still in his hands.
"What are you doing?"
He looked at me.
"I wanted to see if it was waterproof."
"Why?"
"Because the man said I might need to hide it."
I took the box.
This time, Noah let me.
I opened the clasp.
Inside was a USB drive.
A key.
And a folded piece of paper.
I unfolded the paper.
Four words were written in black ink.
PLAY THIS AT THE WEDDING.
I stared at it.
Then I looked at Noah.
"Who gave you this?"
He whispered:
"Dad."
I froze.
"Julian gave you the box?"
"No."
"Then why did you say Dad?"
Noah's eyes filled with tears.
"Because I heard him talking."
"Where?"
"At the office."
"What did he say?"
Noah looked down.
May you like
"He said, 'If she ever finds out, I'm finished.'"
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