“That something was going to happen.”
“Did anyone from the hotel contact you after he disappeared?”
“Management did. They said Elias had taken money.”
“How much?”
“Almost eighty thousand dollars.”
“Did the police question you?”
“Yes. They searched our apartment. They found nothing.”
“Were charges filed?”
“Not against me. Elias was listed as a person of interest. They said he probably ran.”
“But you didn’t believe them.”
“At first, no.”
Her voice cracked.
“Then every month passed without a call. Birthdays passed. Dash learned to walk. He learned to say his father’s name by pointing at a picture. Eventually, believing Elias had chosen to leave hurt less than believing he might be dead.”
On the other bed, Dash shifted.
Both of us went quiet.
He hugged the rabbit tighter without waking.
Laurel stared at it.
“The safest place is where Dash keeps what he loves most,” she whispered.
She crossed the room and carefully lifted the rabbit from his arms.
Dash murmured, but did not wake.
Under the lamp, the toy appeared even more worn. One ear was partly detached. Its brown fabric had faded to gray along the belly.
Laurel examined the seams.
“I’ve washed this a hundred times.”
“Has it always been torn?”
“No. The ear ripped a few months ago.”
She pressed along the rabbit’s body.
Near its back, beneath a patch of matted fur, her fingers stopped.
“There’s something here.”
She turned the rabbit over.
A section of stitching along its spine looked different from the rest. The thread was darker and the stitches uneven, as though they had been made by hand.
Laurel found a sewing kit in the dresser drawer. With trembling fingers, she used the tiny scissors to snip one thread.
Then another.
She opened a gap no wider than two inches.
Something metallic glinted beneath the stuffing.
Laurel reached inside and removed a small brass key.
A paper tag was tied around it with string.
On one side, someone had written a number: 214.
On the other were two words.
UNION STATION.
Laurel sat back.
“He used to take Dash there to watch the trains,” she said. “There are storage lockers in the lower hall.”
“We should contact the police.”
“No.”
“Laurel—”
“The letter says someone used his name. What if that person still works at the hotel?”
“The police are not the hotel.”
