Chapter 7 - M.V.
Police searched the underground chamber.
Behind the mattress they found markings carved into the brick.
Dates.
Short sentences.
And initials.
M.V.
The oldest date was February 1998.
Almost thirty years earlier.
One line read:
Harold says nobody will believe me.
Another:
Claire brought water today.
William stared at that sentence.
Claire would have been eight years old.
Lily four.
The room had been used long before Lily was locked there.
Detective Santos asked William:
“Did your wife ever mention an aunt?”
“No.”
“Margaret Vale?”
“Never.”
Then officers discovered a loose brick.
Behind it—
a bundle wrapped in plastic.
Inside were photocopies of property deeds.
Bank statements.
And an old photograph.
Harold Bennett stood beside a woman William assumed was Margaret.
Behind them stood the farmhouse.
On the back:
Our house. Half yours. Half mine. Never let Harold sell it without you. — Mom
The handwriting belonged to their mother.
The farmhouse had originally been inherited jointly.
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Harold had somehow become sole owner after Margaret disappeared.
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