Then he typed:
Not sure yet.
Can I call tonight?
Mae answered:
Please do.
Colter slipped the phone away.
There were secrets people kept because they feared the truth would destroy a relationship.
Sometimes the silence did more damage than the truth ever could.
Near sunset, Harriet came out of the mine passage.
Anna knew something had happened before the woman spoke.
“What did you find?”
“A chamber.”
“The second room?”
“Yes.”
“Was anyone inside?”
Harriet hesitated.
“We found personal effects.”
Anna gripped the arms of her chair.
“Human remains?”
“We have not confirmed anything yet.”
Noah closed his eyes.
Harriet crouched in front of them.
“But we found two hard hats.”
“One is marked Mercer.”
Noah whispered, “And the other?”
“Reed.”
Anna looked toward Noah.
“Eli.”
“Probably.”
Harriet continued.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“A wooden box.”
Anna felt suddenly cold.
“Blue symbol?”
Harriet nodded.
“Painted on the lid.”
Anna tried to stand again.
This time Tess did not stop her immediately.
Harriet did.
“You cannot enter.”
“Then bring it out.”
“We are.”
Twenty minutes later, an investigator carried the box into daylight.
It was not old.
Perhaps five or ten years.
The wood was clean beneath layers of dust.
Anna recognized her mother’s handwriting on the lid.
FOR ANNA.
She stopped breathing.
Noah stepped back.
“This is yours.”
The investigator photographed everything before opening it.
Inside were three envelopes.
A cassette tape.
A small stuffed rabbit.
And a child’s blue hair ribbon.
Anna made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“My rabbit.”
Lily looked at her.
“You had a bunny?”
Anna touched one worn ear.
“His name was George.”
“That’s a funny name.”
“I was six.”
“I would have named him Moonbeam.”
“That’s because you have imagination.”
Colter watched Anna hold the toy.
This was not evidence to her.
It was childhood returning through a wooden box.
For twenty-seven years, Anna had remembered the morning after her father disappeared.