Mara did not sleep that night.
She lay on the narrow prison mattress with the silver key hidden beneath her pillow, though she knew perfectly well that it wasn't there.
The guard had taken it.
They had searched Lily before she left.
They had taken the key as evidence.
Mara had watched it disappear into a clear plastic bag.
Still, she could feel its weight.
That was how memory worked in prison.
It made objects heavier after they were gone.
She stared at the ceiling until morning.
At six, the cell door opened.
“Vale.”
Mara sat up.
The guard stood outside.
“Attorney.”
Mara's heart kicked.
“Who?”
“Someone from legal.”
She followed him down the corridor.
Her attorney, Samuel Reed, was waiting in a small interview room.
He was already standing when Mara entered.
His face told her something was wrong.
“You heard about the key,” Mara said.
Samuel closed the folder in front of him.
“Yes.”
“Who gave it to Lily?”
“We don't know.”
“Daniel?”
“That's what Lily said.”
Mara sat.
“Then why did you look surprised?”
Samuel hesitated.
“Because that key should not exist anymore.”
Mara leaned forward.
“You said the box was missing.”
“I said I couldn't locate it.”
“You told me Daniel denied knowing about it.”
“He did.”
“Then why does my daughter have the key?”
Samuel rubbed his forehead.
“That is exactly the question.”
Mara stared at him.
“Tell me what was in the box.”
Samuel looked toward the window.
“Photographs. Receipts. A notebook.”
“My notebook?”
“No.”
“Then whose?”
“We never recovered the contents.”
Mara frowned.
“You said the police searched the apartment.”
“They did.”
“And they found nothing.”
“They claimed they found nothing.”
Mara noticed the change in his wording.
“Samuel.”
He looked at her.
“You don't believe the police report.”
“I believe parts of it.”
“Which parts?”
“That you were in the apartment.”
“I was.”
“That Daniel called the police.”
“I know.”
“That money was missing from his company.”
“I know.”
“That your fingerprints were on the envelope containing the money.”
Mara swallowed.
“And?”
Samuel opened the folder.
“And that the envelope itself was never entered into evidence.”
Silence.
Mara stared at him.
“What?”
“The prosecution presented photographs of the envelope.”
“But?”
“But the actual envelope was missing.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Before trial.”
Mara looked away.
She remembered.
Samuel had asked for a meeting.
Daniel had objected.
Daniel had told her she was too emotional and should trust the process.
At the time, Mara had believed him.
That memory now made her stomach turn.
“What else?”
Samuel slid a document across the table.
“This was delivered to my office yesterday.”
Mara picked it up.
It was a photocopy of a handwritten ledger.
Several names appeared in columns.
Dates.
Amounts.
Initials.
One name was circled.
Daniel Vale.
Mara stared at it.
“That isn't his handwriting.”
Samuel nodded.
“I know.”
“Then whose?”
“We're trying to determine that.”
Mara looked farther down the page.
A second name caught her attention.
Elias Grant.
She knew that name.
Everyone in the county knew it.
Grant had been Daniel's business partner.
He had testified against Mara.
He had told the court that Mara had become desperate for money.
He had said he saw her take the cash.
Mara's hand tightened around the paper.
“He lied.”
Samuel did not respond.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“That's not enough.”
“I know.”
Mara pushed the document back.
“What does this have to do with Lily?”
“We don't know yet.”
“Yes, we do.”
Samuel looked at her.
“Daniel gave her the key.”
Mara leaned back.
“The box was mine.”
“Apparently.”
“I kept that box in the bedroom.”
“Where Daniel had access.”
“Yes.”
“After your arrest, Daniel moved out.”
Mara's eyes narrowed.
“He told everyone he stayed.”
“He stayed for three weeks.”
Mara stared.
“Three weeks?”
“Then he moved Lily to his sister's house.”
Something cold settled in Mara's chest.
“Why?”
Samuel opened another file.
“Because Daniel received threatening messages.”
“From whom?”
“We don't know.”
“Did he report them?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Samuel's expression hardened.
“Because one of the messages contained a photograph of you.”
Mara went silent.
“A photograph of me?”
“Taken inside your apartment.”
“When?”
“The night before your arrest.”
Mara felt the room shrink.
“Who took it?”
“We don't know.”
“Show me.”
Samuel hesitated.
Then he removed a photograph from the folder.
Mara looked.
The picture showed her standing in her kitchen.
She was holding a mug.
The timestamp was 11:47 p.m.
The night before everything collapsed.
Mara remembered being alone.
Or thought she had been.
In the photograph, the angle was wrong.
The camera had been inside the apartment.
Not outside.
Not through a window.
Inside.
Mara stared at the image.
“I didn't know anyone was there.”
Samuel said nothing.
She turned the photograph over.
There was writing on the back.
Three words.
LOOK BEHIND THE CLOCK.
Mara's breath stopped.
“What clock?”
Samuel's eyes lifted.
“The clock in your old apartment.”
Mara remembered it.
A cheap wooden clock above the kitchen doorway.
Daniel had bought it when Lily was born.
Mara had never liked it because it ran seven minutes fast.
She looked at Samuel.
“Did you search behind it?”
“The apartment was renovated.”
“Before or after my trial?”
“After.”
Mara stood abruptly.
“Then we need to find it.”
Samuel caught her gaze.
“I already did.”
She froze.
“What did you find?”
“A hollow compartment.”
Mara's heart began pounding.
“What's inside?”
Samuel shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It didn't.”
“Then why are you here?”
Samuel looked at her for several seconds.
“Because yesterday morning, someone broke into the apartment.”
Mara's mouth went dry.
“Daniel's apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Was anything stolen?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“They went directly to the wall behind the clock.”
Mara sat again.
“Who?”
“No cameras.”
“Neighbors?”
“Nothing useful.”
“Daniel?”
“He says he doesn't know.”
Mara laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Of course he does.”
Samuel watched her.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“The person who broke in left something.”
He placed a photograph on the table.
It showed a child's drawing.
A house.
A mother.
A little girl.
And a black figure standing behind the house.
Mara stared.
“That is Lily's drawing.”
Samuel nodded.
“She made it last week.”
“How did it get there?”
“We don't know.”
Mara's fingers trembled.
Then she noticed something in the drawing.
The little girl had drawn a small silver key beside the house.
Mara looked up.
“Lily knows.”
“Knows what?”
“I don't know.”
She pressed her palms against her eyes.
Then she remembered something.
A conversation from eleven months earlier.
The morning Daniel called the police.
Lily had been sitting under the kitchen table.
Mara had been crying.
Daniel had been shouting.
And Lily had said something.
One sentence Mara had dismissed because everything was happening too quickly.
“Daddy hid it in the wall.”
Mara opened her eyes.
“What if Lily saw where he put the box?”
Samuel leaned forward.
“She was four.”
“She noticed everything.”
“What did she see?”
Mara shook her head.
“I don't know.”
A buzzer sounded outside.
The interview was over.
Samuel gathered the documents.
Before he left, Mara caught his sleeve.
“Find the box.”
“I will.”
“No.”
Her voice was quiet.
“You find the person who took it.”
Samuel looked at her.
Mara's expression had changed.
“I spent eleven months believing I needed to prove I didn't steal the money.”
She glanced toward the locked door.
“Now I think someone wanted me convicted.”
Samuel nodded slowly.
“And if they wanted that,” Mara continued, “then Lily may be the only person who saw what they were afraid of.”
That afternoon, Mara received a message from the prison administration.
Her next visit with Lily had been canceled.
No explanation.
No new date.
Just a single sentence.
Mara read it twice.
Then the guard returned with an envelope.
“There was another item left for you.”
Mara opened it.
Inside was a child's drawing.
This time, there was no house.
No mother.
No little girl.
Only a clock.
And beneath it, in crooked letters Lily had written herself:
MOMMY, HE KNOWS I REMEMBER.
Click Here to continue read next: PART3: Lily Remembers the Night Everyone Called a Tragedy, but Her Small Memory Points to Someone Mara Never Suspected
She Had Thirty Minutes to Convince the Child Behind the Glass That She Had Not Abandoned Her
Part 2 of 8
