Chapter 3: The Envelope Henry Hid
The funeral director's face turned white.
"Mr. Dawson, I don't know what you're talking about.""
Thomas grabbed the front of his suit jacket.
"Don't play games with me!""
Roy immediately stepped between them.
"Let him go.""
Thomas released the director, but his eyes remained fixed on him.
"There was another envelope. My father told me he had taken care of it.""
The director straightened his jacket.
"Your father left several sealed items with our office. I was instructed not to discuss their contents with anyone except the named recipients.""
"Then I'm the named recipient!""
The director shook his head.
"No. You're not.""
A murmur spread through the church.
Margaret sat down heavily.
Her bouquet rested in her lap, its white petals beginning to fall apart beneath her fingers.
Roy crouched beside her.
"Do you want me to take you somewhere quiet?""
She shook her head.
"No. I have spent twenty years being quiet.""
Roy nodded.
"Then we'll stay.""
Thomas turned toward the guests.
"Everyone needs to understand that this woman is not who she claims to be. My father spent his entire life cleaning up the mess she made.""
Margaret looked up.
"Then tell them what happened.""
Thomas pointed at her.
"You walked out!""
"I was taken away!""
The words escaped her before she could stop them.
Silence fell.
Thomas froze.
Roy slowly stood.
"What does that mean?""
Margaret covered her mouth.
She hadn't intended to reveal anything yet.
But the photograph had opened a door she had spent decades trying to keep closed.
She looked at Thomas.
"Do you remember the night I disappeared?""
Thomas laughed.
"I was twelve. Of course I remember.""
"Then you remember the police coming to the house.""
His expression changed.
"I remember you leaving.""
"No. You remember your father putting you in the upstairs bedroom and telling you not to come downstairs.""
Thomas stared at her.
Margaret continued.
"I remember knocking on your bedroom door. I remember telling you I loved you. I remember asking you to open it.""
Thomas shook his head.
"Stop.""
"You were crying. You kept asking why I was leaving.""
"Stop!""
"And I told you I wasn't leaving you.""
Thomas stepped backward.
Roy watched him carefully.
"Sounds like somebody left out an important part of the story.""
Thomas turned toward Roy.
"Stay out of it!""
Margaret reached into her handbag again.
This time, she pulled out a small leather wallet.
Inside was an old photograph of Thomas as a child.
He was standing beside her in the garden, holding a toy airplane.
On the back, she had written:
To my sweet Thomas. No matter what happens, Mommy will always come back for you.
She placed it on the pew.
"I kept this because I never got to say goodbye.""
Thomas stared at the photograph.
For a second, his anger seemed to collapse beneath something much older.
Then he looked away.
"You don't understand.""
"Then help me understand.""
He didn't answer.
The funeral director quietly picked up his folder.
"There is something else I should tell you.""
Thomas spun around.
"Don't.""
The director ignored him.
"Mr. Dawson visited our office two months before his death. He brought a photograph album and several documents.
He specifically requested that Mrs. Dawson be given access to them.""
Margaret looked up.
"Did he say why?""
The director hesitated.
"He told me that the truth had been hidden long enough.""
Thomas let out a bitter laugh.
"My father was sick. He wasn't thinking clearly.""
The director looked directly at him.
"He was very clear.""
He opened the folder and removed a small brass key.
"Your father also left instructions concerning a storage unit.""
Thomas went completely still.
Margaret looked at the key.
"What storage unit?""
"Unit 214 at a facility outside town. The rental agreement is in your name, Mrs. Dawson.""
Margaret shook her head.
"I've never rented a storage unit.""
"Your husband paid for it in advance. He told us you would know what to do when the time came.""
Thomas moved toward the director.
"Give me that key.""
Roy caught his shoulder.
"You're not taking anything.""
Thomas jerked away.
"You think you're protecting her? You have no idea what you're getting involved in!""
Roy's voice remained low.
"Maybe not. But I know what a man looks like when he's terrified of a locked box.""
Thomas turned toward Margaret.
"Don't go there.""
She stared at him.
"Why?""
"Because whatever you think you're going to find, it won't bring Daniel back.""
Margaret's eyes filled.
"Then at least let me find out what happened to him.""
Thomas leaned closer.
"You don't want to know.""
Roy stepped forward.
"That's enough.""
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then the funeral director handed Margaret the brass key and a business card with the storage facility's address.
She placed both inside her handbag.
The organist began playing again, but the ceremony had already been interrupted beyond repair.
Thomas returned to the front of the church.
He stood beside his father's casket, refusing to look at Margaret.
Roy helped her rise.
"We'll take you home after this.""
Margaret nodded.
But before she could walk away, the funeral director approached her one more time.
"Mrs. Dawson?""
She turned.
"There's something I didn't mention.""
He glanced at Thomas to make sure he wasn't listening.
"Your husband asked me to make one final phone call after the funeral. He gave me a name and a telephone number.""
Margaret's heartbeat quickened.
"Whose name?""
The director unfolded a small note.
"Daniel Dawson.""
Margaret nearly dropped her handbag.
"Daniel is dead.""
The director shook his head.
"Your husband said you would believe that. He instructed me to tell you that Daniel was alive when he signed his final documents.""
Margaret grabbed the director's arm.
"Where is he?""
"I don't know. But your husband left another instruction.""
"What instruction?""
The director looked down at the note.
"He said that if you came to the funeral, I should tell you to open the storage unit before contacting Daniel.""
Roy frowned.
"Why?""
The director turned the note over.
There was one more sentence written on the back.
Because the person who knows where Daniel is has been watching this family for twenty years.
Margaret felt the blood drain from her face.
Across the church, Thomas was no longer looking at his father's casket.
He was looking directly at her.
May you like
And when their eyes met, he silently mouthed four words.
*Don't open that door.*
