Chapter 13 - THE CABIN
The police would not let us go to the cabin that morning.
Dad argued once.
Detective Ruiz said no once.
That ended it.
She explained that officers were documenting the scene, collecting the burned papers, and trying to determine whether Candace had left on foot or with someone else.
Dad hated waiting.
Dad's employer placed him on temporary administrative leave while security reviewed the stolen credentials.
He took the decision badly.
"I didn't do anything."
Mara reminded him the leave was protective, not disciplinary.
That did not make him less restless.
For the first time in years, Dad was home every afternoon.
At first, he hovered.
He asked whether I needed help with homework before I took off my shoes.
He checked the locks twice.
He asked who texted me whenever my phone buzzed.
After three days, I told him he was making the house feel like another kind of cage.
He looked hurt.
Then he listened.
We made another rule.
Protection could not mean surveillance.
Dad wrote it on the refrigerator in blue marker.
PROTECT, DON'T POLICE.
Grandma added a second line beneath it.
AND BUY MILK.
The note stayed there for months.
It became our shorthand whenever fear started making decisions for us.
Candace had taught us how control could wear the clothes of concern.
We were determined not to repeat that mistake in the opposite direction.
I could tell because he cleaned the same section of kitchen counter three times.
Grandma made toast.
Nobody ate it.
Mara sat at the table with her laptop open, sending emails to the lender, the bank, the boarding school, and Evelyn.
Trent stayed in the living room.
He kept his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor.
For the first time, he did not act like the room belonged to him.
At noon, Detective Ruiz called.
Dad put her on speaker.
"We found a second vehicle on a neighboring property."
Dad straightened.
"Candace?"
"Not yet."
"Whose vehicle?"
"Registered to Vanessa Pike."
Mara looked up sharply.
"The notary."
"Correct."
Ruiz continued.
"We also found documents in the cabin that appear connected to the home-equity loan."
Dad gripped the counter.
"And Hallie's papers?"
"Some were burned."
"Some?"
"Others were in a locked cabinet."
I looked at him.
"What kind?"
Ruiz paused.
"Medical forms."
"School records."
"Copies of the trust distribution documents."
"A draft petition for temporary guardianship."
Dad went completely still.
Mara spoke first.
"Guardianship by whom?"
"Candace Sutton."
My skin went cold.
"Why would she need guardianship if she was married to Dad?"
Mara answered before Ruiz could.
"She wouldn't, unless she expected Russell not to be available."
The kitchen changed.
Dad stared at the phone.
"What does that mean?"
Ruiz's voice remained calm.
"We don't know."
Dad laughed once.
It was the same hollow sound he had made too many times in the last two days.
"That phrase is getting old."
"I understand."
"No, you don't."
Mara looked at him.
"Russell."
He closed his eyes.
"Sorry."
Ruiz continued.
"There is something else."
Nobody spoke.
"We found a printed itinerary for your work trip this week."
Dad frowned.
"Candace knew my schedule."
"This copy includes your hotel room number."
"She booked the hotel."
"It also includes the inspection site's restricted access code."
Dad's expression changed.
"She shouldn't have that."
"Who would?"
"My supervisor and the hospital engineering manager."
"Anyone else?"
"No."
Ruiz asked him to forward contact information.
Then she said the words that made Grandma sit down.
"Until we locate Candace, I recommend you do not follow your usual routines alone."
Dad's voice became hard.
"Are you saying she is dangerous?"
"I'm saying we have enough unusual conduct that I don't want to make assumptions."
After the call ended, Dad turned toward Trent.
"How did she get the site code?"
Trent looked up.
"I don't know."
"Think."
"I am."
"She didn't guess it."
Trent rubbed his hands together.
"She uses your tablet sometimes."
Dad frowned.
"What?"
"The black one."
"My work tablet is locked."
"You leave it unlocked in the kitchen when you're home."
Dad stared at him.
"How do you know?"
Trent's face changed.
"Because Mom told me."
"Why were you discussing my work tablet?"
"We weren't."
"You just said she told you."
"She complained that you leave stuff everywhere."
Dad stepped closer.
"My tablet is not stuff."
Mara stood.
"Stop."
Dad looked at her.
"He knows more than he's saying."
"Maybe."
She turned to Trent.
"Do you?"
Trent's jaw tightened.
"I know Mom used his devices."
"For what?"
"Bills."
"Anything else?"
"I saw her copy files once."
Dad froze.
"What files?"
"I don't know."
"From my tablet?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"September."
"Where?"
"Kitchen."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
Trent looked at him as if the answer were obvious.
"Because she was your wife."
Dad turned away.
I thought of all the things that had been excused by that single fact.
Because she was his wife.
Because she lived there.
Because she made dinner.
Because she knew passwords.
Because she said sweetheart.
Because each individual thing was easier to explain than the pattern.
Mara asked Dad to retrieve the tablet.
He went to his office nook.
The tablet was gone.
He searched his work bag.
Nothing.
He searched the car.
Nothing.
Then he remembered.
"I left it in my truck at the airport."
Grandma whispered, "And Candace took the truck."
Dad called Ruiz again.
Officers searched the pickup at the cabin.
The tablet was not there.
Neither was Dad's work identification badge.
His face drained of color.
"She has access to hospitals with that badge."
Mara asked, "Can it be disabled?"
Dad called his supervisor immediately.
Within fifteen minutes, the badge was canceled.
Then Dad's supervisor said something that made him sit down.
"What?"
We could hear the man's voice faintly through the phone.
Dad turned on speaker.
"Russell, someone used your credentials Tuesday night."
Dad stared at the phone.
"Where?"
"Remote maintenance portal."
"What did they access?"
"Backup-power inspection files."
"Anything sensitive?"
"Equipment records."
"Site maps."
"Vendor contacts."
Dad closed his eyes.
"This is now a corporate security issue."
His supervisor agreed.
The company disabled every account tied to Dad and launched an audit.
I watched him absorb another layer of damage.
Candace had not only invaded my room and our finances.
She had reached into the part of Dad's life he thought was separate and safe.
After the call, he sat beside me.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"All of it."
I leaned my head against his shoulder.
We stayed like that until his phone buzzed.
An email notification appeared.
Sender: CANDACE SUTTON.
Subject: YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT IT ALONE.
Dad opened it.
There was no message.
Only one attachment.
A photograph.
It showed Dad asleep in a chair at Mom's bedside four years earlier.
Mom lay in the hospital bed behind him.
The picture had clearly been taken from the doorway.
On the back of the scanned image, someone had written a date.
Three days before Mom died.
Mara stared at it.
"Who took this?"
Dad shook his head.
Then I saw a reflection in the dark hospital window.
A woman holding a phone.
Blonde hair.
Burgundy cardigan.
Candace.
She had been there at the end.
Closer than Dad remembered.
May you like
Closer than any of us knew.
