the millionaire’s son was reported lost in a fire 14 years ago

but when the father returned to finally settle the sale of the old property he was stunned to find evidence

suggesting his son had actually not perished it was alive and living under a crushing burden

imposed by someone who left him absolutely aghast

Daniel Hartman tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel of the rental car

4 o’clock in the afternoon if the old woman Margaret worked quickly he’d still make the late flight back to JFK

Daniel didn’t want to linger in Ohio for another minute he had spent two decades building his restaurant empire

in New York just to forget this dreadful town sign seal and get out of here

Daniel muttered adjusting his shirt cuff the letter from the law firm was explicit

his foster father’s will required the heir to be present at the house to inventory the estate before transfer

a ludicrous request the only assets here were awful memories

and a pile of decaying wood Daniel pushed the front door open

the scent of mildew assailed his nostrils the distinct odor of abandoned Midwest wooden houses

left through many winters Daniel didn’t bother turning on the lights he walked past the living room

using his expensive leather shoe to nudge the dust sheet off an armchair everything was exactly as it had been the day he left

but something was amiss Daniel squinted down at the hardwood floor in the hallway

the thick layer of dust had been disturbed there were long drag marks as if someone had pulled something heavy across it

not mice or roaches these marks were man made

a nagging thirst for water drew him toward the kitchen but as he passed under the stairs Daniel stopped short

the small storage room door where his foster father used to toss broken brooms looked strangely different

while all the doorknobs in the house were tarnished brass from oxidation this one gleamed

there were several fresh scratches on the metal surface a heavy duty dead bolt lock had been installed

why would anyone secure a utility closet filled with old rags so tightly Daniel wondered aloud he tried the knob locked tight

Daniel rolled up his sleeves and headed straight to the kitchen he rummaged through the drawers finding a flat metal bar from an old plumbing tool kit

Daniel returned to the storage room door he wedged the metal bar into the gap between the door frame and the bolt

come on he gritted his teeth putting his body weight into the lever action the wooden frame

was rotten and couldn’t withstand the pressure a dry cracking sound echoed the bolt sprang open

sending tiny wood splinters fluttering to the floor the door swung inward

Daniel pulled out his phone shining the flashlight into the gloom he held his breath

expecting a wild animal or a pile of rubbish but the room was empty

the floor was clean not a speck of dust in the corner a solitary blue object sat a backpack

Daniel stepped inside kneeling on the cold floor it was a cheap backpack meant for elementary schoolers

featuring an outdated cartoon character he picked it up it felt light he pulled the zipper

inside were two sets of worn neatly folded children’s clothes at the bottom of the bag was a hardcover

school notebook Daniel flipped open the first page third grade addition and subtraction

problems written in pencil the handwriting was childish large and rounded

Daniel quickly flipped to the back the math problems disappeared replaced by hurried writing

etched deeply into the paper Day 12 she said dad isn’t coming back Day 45 I’m hungry

but I have to be good day I forget dad promised to get me I’ll wait here

she lied Daniel’s fingers trembled nearly dropping the notebook he recognized this handwriting

that strange backward hooked way of writing the letter G Lucas his voice broke in his throat no way

the police said you were lost in your bedroom fire ten years ago the fire had gutted the second floor

they said no remains were found due to the extreme heat and all evidence pointed to his 10 year old foster son having perished

Daniel had believed it he had buried an empty casket and left unable to endure the sorrow

but this notebook was recent and so was that lock suddenly the sound of a car engine

shutting off right outside the front yard interrupted Daniel’s thoughts before he could process it

the front door was forcefully shoved open slamming against the wall with a sharp loud sound

the click of heels hitting the wooden floor Daniel was still kneeling in the storage

room clutching the notebook the footsteps paused right at the start of the hallway blocking

his only exit the shadow of the newcomer stretched long across the floor enveloping Daniel

Daniel squinted against the glaring phone flashlight in his hand then slowly lowered it

standing squarely in the doorway of the storage room was Margaret Cole

she was exactly as he remembered a charcoal gray suit hair pulled back into a tight bun

and a face expertly made up to conceal the traces of time Margaret was the woman who managed the family trust

fund always appearing impeccable and utterly professional her gaze swept over the pride open deadbolt on the floor

then settled on the notebook in Daniel’s hand her eyes widened slightly

but instantly her usual icy facade returned picking locks is hardly the behavior of a successful

businessman Daniel Margaret stated Daniel Rose brushing the dust off the knees of his trousers

he walked straight toward her holding the notebook up to her face explain this Daniel demanded not bothering with a greeting

he tapped the unfinished page with his index finger this handwriting

it’s Lucas it was written after the fire Margaret didn’t look at the notebook

she turned her back walking directly into the living room her high heels clicking sharply and decisively on the wooden floor

don’t let sentimentality cloud your judgment she called back placing her expensive leather briefcase on the dust covered table

it’s just an old pile of things I haven’t gotten around to cleaning out Daniel followed her into the living room

he threw the notebook down on the table right next to the gleaming briefcase a child who passed away does not keep a diary

about waiting for his father to return Daniel insisted and people don’t install a heavy duty deadbolt on an empty storage room