“They believed the hotel.”
“That was fourteen months ago. This is new evidence.”
She closed her fingers around the key.
“It’s evidence that Elias hid something in our son’s toy.”
“And it may lead to eighty thousand dollars someone believes he stole.”
“Or to proof that he didn’t.”
I understood the fear beneath her resistance. If we handed over the key immediately, Laurel would lose control of the first real connection to Elias she had held in more than a year.
“Then we document everything,” I said. “Photographs of the letter, the key, the stitching. We tell Denise where we’re going. We do not remove anything from the locker until we know what it is.”
“You’re coming?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you shouldn’t go alone.”
A trace of suspicion returned.
“Or because you’re curious.”
“That too.”
To my surprise, she smiled.
It lasted less than a second, but it changed her face completely.
We left Dash with Ruth the following morning.
He cried when Laurel put on her coat.
“I’m coming back,” she told him.
“When?”
“Before lunch.”
“Promise?”
Laurel hesitated.
Promises had become dangerous things to her.
Then she knelt and held both his hands.
“I promise I will do everything I can to be back before lunch. And Aunt Ruth will stay with you until I come.”
Dash considered this carefully.
“Bunny comes with me?”
Laurel glanced at the repaired seam.
“Yes.”
She handed him the rabbit.
He pressed it to his chest.
“Bunny knows the way.”
Laurel and I exchanged a look.
Union Station was crowded with morning travelers. Announcements echoed beneath the high ceiling as people hurried toward platforms carrying coffee, suitcases, and half-finished conversations.
The lockers stood in a quieter corridor near the old ticket offices.
Number 214 was in the bottom row.
Laurel crouched in front of it with the brass key.
“What if it doesn’t fit?” she asked.
