My ten-year-old daughter was weak after another brain-tumor treatment when Grandma dumped trash over her bed because she asked me to come take her home. My ten-year-old daughter was barely strong enough to get through another brain-tumor treatment when she called me and quietly asked if I could come bring her home.

The name appeared in the margin of June’s notebook.

Mara recognized it after several minutes: Evelyn Pike.

“Who is Evelyn Pike?” Detective Bell asked.

“My father’s sister,” Mara said. “I haven’t seen her since I was a teenager.”

Cal stared at the page. “She lives in Arizona.”

“How do you know?”

“Mom used to send her money.”

Bell turned another page. Beside Evelyn’s name were dates, phone numbers, and one phrase repeated several times: she has the truth.

Mara called the number from the notebook. A woman answered on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Is this Evelyn Pike?”

Silence.

“My name is Mara Vale.”

The woman inhaled sharply. “You sound like your father.”

Mara sat down. “Did you know Daniel?”

“I knew he was trying to reach you.”

“Why didn’t you contact me?”

“Your mother told me you wanted nothing to do with him. Then she told me Daniel was dead.”

“He is dead.”

“I know that now.”

Evelyn explained that Daniel had stayed with her for several months after leaving Oregon. He had planned to return to Harbor Glen, but June sent him a warning: Mara had obtained a restraining order and would call the police if he approached.

“There was no restraining order,” Mara said.

“I know. I asked Daniel to keep copies of everything.”

“Did he?”

“He sent me a package.”

Evelyn’s voice faltered. “I never opened it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it arrived after his death, and your mother called me the same day. She said if I interfered, she would tell you I had helped Daniel disappear.”

Mara looked at Bell.

“Where is the package?” Bell asked.

Evelyn gave them an address in Tucson. Inside a storage unit were medical records, copies of June’s messages, and a video Daniel had recorded for Mara.

They watched it that evening in a small conference room.

Daniel sat in front of a motel window. He looked thinner than Mara remembered, but his smile was unmistakable.

“Mara, if you are seeing this, then somebody finally gave you the truth.”

He paused, glancing down at a paper.

“I did not leave because I stopped loving you. I left because June told me you had chosen her over me. I believed her because I was sick and ashamed.”

Mara covered her mouth.

“I should have fought harder,” Daniel continued. “That part is mine. But I want you to know this: I never stopped writing. I never stopped asking about Leni. If I cannot come back, tell her I was proud of every day she survived.”

The video ended.

Leni, who had watched from beside Mara, began to cry silently.

Mara pulled her close.

Then the conference room lights went out.

Emergency lamps flickered on.

The computer screen went black.

Bell drew her weapon.

“Everyone stay still.”

A door slammed somewhere in the hallway.

When the lights returned, the evidence envelope containing Daniel’s video was gone.

So was the folder of clinic records.