Chapter 5 - THE THING BENEATH THE DOLLHOUSE
Police did not let us charge upstairs and turn the playroom into a treasure hunt.
That disappointed Esme.
It reassured me.
A warrant was obtained after Mom's statement.
The room was documented.
Photographed.
Then searched.
Esme and I watched from downstairs through footage Detective Chen later allowed us to see with Mom's attorney present.
The old dollhouse remained against the wall.
Dad built it himself.
Three stories.
Working miniature lights.
A tiny elevator because Esme had complained that even dolls deserved accessible houses.
Behind it was a removable section of baseboard.
The brass key opened a small steel compartment set into the wall.
Inside sat a metal case.
When an officer lifted it free, something shifted inside with a heavy clang.
Mom turned away.
The case contained a handgun.
Old.
Wrapped.
Preserved badly but deliberately.
Esme started crying.
Not loudly.
I didn't.
That worried me more.
Dante arrived later with his attorney.
Mom saw him and immediately moved toward us.
“No.”
Two detectives stopped her.
“Celeste, please stay back.”
Dante did not approach us.
He looked at the open evidence case.
Then at Mom.
“You hid it there.”
Mom said:
“I had minutes.”
“Four years is longer than minutes.”
“You don't know what happened.”
“Then tell them.”
She looked toward Esme and me.
“They're children.”
Dante's expression turned cold.
“Then you shouldn't have hidden their father's murder weapon in their playroom.”
The words landed harder than the weapon had.
Mom looked like he had struck her.
“That is not why it was there.”
Detective Chen interrupted immediately.
“No more.”
Good.
Because the adults had begun forgetting we were sitting six feet away.
The weapon was taken for testing.
Nobody was arrested that afternoon.
Possessing or moving potential evidence was serious.
So were coercion, context, timing, and proof.
The investigation reopened.
Then Rachel Kim finally allowed us to open Dad's first birthday box.
Mine contained a small digital recorder.
Esme's contained a sealed letter.
We were not required to open either.
Esme refused.
I turned on the recorder.
Dad's voice filled the room.
Older than I remembered.
Tired.
Ivy. Esme. If you're hearing this, something went wrong in a way I wasn't able to repair.
Mom covered her mouth.
Dad continued:
Before anyone tells you who to hate, ask why your mother was afraid.
I looked at Celeste.
May you like
For the first time since this began, her expression was not fear of being caught.
It was grief.
