For a long moment she said nothing.
Then, slowly, a memory returned.
A young man who used to carry groceries upstairs for Eleanor.
Someone who had worked nights while Claire worked days.
Someone Eleanor trusted enough to keep a spare key.
Claire whispered his name.
“Caleb Brooks.”
Mr. Harris’s eyes widened.
Nathaniel frowned.
“Who is Caleb Brooks?”
Claire looked at the hidden compartment in her mother’s desk.
“He was my best friend.”
She swallowed.
“And twelve years ago, the week after my mother went into the hospital…”
Claire raised her eyes.
“…Caleb disappeared from Aldridge Street without ever telling me why.”
PART 3
For most of her life, Claire Bennett had told herself that Caleb Brooks had simply left.
People did that.
Especially when they were young.
Especially when they had no money, no property, and no promises strong enough to hold them in one place.
At nineteen, Claire had been angry about it.
