Melissa.
Younger.
Her hair short from surgery.
Confused.
Alive.
And around her neck was a thin chain.
I leaned closer.
A tiny silver key hung from it.
I recognized it immediately.
Dorothy had worn an identical one.
For their mother-daughter safe-deposit box.
“What is that?” Calvin asked.
“A key.”
“To what?”
I stood so quickly my chair scraped the floor.
“Dorothy and Melissa rented a box together years ago. They called it their secret archive.”
“What was inside?”
“Old letters. Jewelry. Family documents.”
Carol slid another envelope toward me.
“There is one more thing.”
Inside was a note Dorothy had written after her second visit to St. Anne’s.
If I can prove this is Melissa, I will bring Daniel with me next time. I will not let him lose her twice.
Daniel.
My name.
I traced the letters with my fingertip.
There was no great secret in Dorothy’s silence.
