Daniel’s expression hardened by a fraction.
“I found the envelope,” he said.
The silence that followed was different.
Not confusion.
Fear.
When Whitney spoke again, her voice was lower. “What envelope?”
“The one with Claire’s name on it.”
A faint rustle came through the phone. Maybe she had covered the receiver. Maybe she had turned toward our parents. When she returned, the brightness was gone.
“Daniel, listen to me very carefully. That is a private family matter.”
“It concerns Claire.”
“It concerns things you don’t understand.”
“Then explain them.”
Another pause.
Whitney’s next words came slowly. “Bring it back.”
I stared at the phone.
Daniel said nothing.
“Daniel,” Whitney continued, and now there was something pleading beneath the control, “please. You don’t know what you’ve done.”
Richard leaned forward.
“What has he done, Whitney?” he asked.
The line went dead.
For a long moment, the only sound was rain against the window.
