Jacqueline came into the house carrying a plastic container.
The smell reached the staircase before she did.
Banana bread.
Warm, sweet, unmistakable.
“Brenda?” she called. “Where are you two?”
I couldn't answer.
Zachary looked at me.
I looked at him.
Neither of us knew how to explain what was upstairs.
Jacqueline had no idea.
Or she was an extraordinary actress.
The thought made my stomach turn.
Theodore entered behind her, closing the front door.
“We were already halfway home,” he called, “and then Zachary phoned.”
His voice carried easily through the house.
I heard the sound of Jacqueline setting the container down.
“Apparently somebody found something we forgot.”
I stared at Zachary.
“You called them?”
He winced.
“I didn't know.”
“You didn't know what?”
“I thought you meant they had left a suitcase.”
“A suitcase full of powder?”
“I didn't know about the powder.”
“Then why did you call them?”
“Because they might know what it is.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
I stepped backward.
Jacqueline appeared first.
She was smiling.
The smile disappeared when she saw the room.
Her gaze moved across the mattress, the open suitcase, the notebook, the map, and the bags scattered over the rug.
She stopped breathing for a second.
I watched the change in her face.
Confusion.
Recognition.
Then horror.
The plastic container slipped slightly in her hands.
“Oh.”
It was barely audible.
Theodore came up behind her.
He saw the room.
His eyebrows rose.
“Well,” he said.
Jacqueline closed her eyes.
“Don't.”
“I wasn't going to say anything.”
“You were.”
“I really wasn't.”
“You were absolutely going to.”
Zachary stepped between them.
“Mom, what's going on?”
Jacqueline looked at him.
Then at me.
Then back at the suitcase.
Her cheeks had turned pink.
I had never seen her embarrassed before.
She sat slowly on the edge of the bed.
“Brenda,” she said.
I folded my arms.
“Yes?”
“Did you open anything?”
The question stopped me.
“No.”
Her shoulders dropped.
“Oh, thank goodness.”
I stared at her.
“Thank goodness?”
She covered her mouth.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
It wasn't a happy laugh.
It was the kind of laugh that escapes when a person has become so overwhelmed that the only alternative is crying.
I looked at Theodore.
He was fighting a smile.
“Why are you laughing?” I asked.
Jacqueline wiped beneath one eye.
“I am sorry.”
“You have been hiding bags under our mattress.”
“I know.”
“There are coded labels.”
“I know.”
“There's a map.”
“I know.”
“And a notebook full of measurements.”
She nodded.
I pointed toward the suitcase.
“So please explain why this is funny.”
“I don't think it is funny.”
“You're laughing.”
“I know.”
Theodore cleared his throat.
“Ellie, maybe just tell them.”
Jacqueline turned toward him.
“Do not call me Ellie right now.”
He raised both hands.
“All right.”
Zachary looked exhausted.
“Mom.”
She looked at him.
“Please.”
She twisted her wedding ring around her finger.
“I didn't mean for any of this to happen.”
“That isn't an explanation,” I said.
“I know.”
“You left this in our house.”
“I know.”
“You left it under our bed.”
“I know.”
“And you came back carrying banana bread.”
Her expression became even more embarrassed.
“I was trying to bring you a thank-you gift.”
I stared at the container.
The absurdity of the situation almost broke through my fear.
Almost.
Instead, I asked, “What is in those bags?”
Jacqueline glanced toward the floor.
“I intended to take them all yesterday.”
“Then why didn't you?”
“I packed the suitcase.”
“And?”
“The zipper wouldn't close.”
Zachary blinked.
“That's your explanation?”
“No. That's why some of them were left behind.”
“Under the mattress?”
Jacqueline nodded.
“I thought I would return this morning.”
“You thought leaving mystery bags beneath our bed was better than telling us?”
She looked miserable.
“I didn't think you'd find them.”
“That is not helping.”
“I know.”
Theodore stepped closer.
“She didn't want me teasing her.”
Jacqueline's head snapped around.
“Theodore.”
He stopped.
I looked between them.
“What does that mean?”
He gave Jacqueline an apologetic glance.
“She has a hobby.”
“A hobby?”
Jacqueline stared at the floor.
I felt my suspicion return.
“What kind of hobby requires coded bags and a state map?”
She swallowed.
“It's complicated.”
“Then simplify it.”
She looked at me.
For the first time since I had known her, she seemed genuinely vulnerable.
“I can explain.”
“Please do.”
“But first—”
She pointed toward the bags.
“Did you open any?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
Her expression changed again.
Fear.
Not fear of the police.
Not fear of being caught.
Fear of me making a mess.
That was the first clue that something was wrong with the story I had built in my head.
Still, I wasn't ready to trust it.
I knelt beside the nearest bag.
The label read E-14.
Jacqueline made a small sound.
“Brenda.”
I looked up.
“I need to know.”
“I understand.”
“Can I open one?”
She hesitated.
Then she nodded.
“All right.”
Zachary crouched beside me.
His hand settled lightly against my shoulder.
I took the bag.
The plastic felt ordinary.
Nothing about it looked dangerous.
I pulled the seal apart.
A warm, earthy smell drifted upward.
I froze.
It wasn't chemical.
It wasn't sharp.
It smelled like grain.
Like an old pantry.
Like something baked in a kitchen with a wood stove.
I looked at Zachary.
He looked at me.
I brought the open bag closer.
Jacqueline watched with both hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“Do you recognize that?” she asked.
I didn't answer.
I already had a suspicion.
But I couldn't make myself say it yet.
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: The Powder Did Not Smell Like Anything Dangerous, Yet the Labels, Map, and Hidden Notebook Still Demanded an Explanation
The Room I Had Finally Reclaimed Held One Last Secret Beneath the Place Where They Had Slept for Months
Part 3 of 4
