Part 4 — The Little Daughter of the Cleaner Was Found in My Daughter’s Office, but Her Answer Drained the Color from Damian’s Face

As soon as the call ended, everyone in the office moved at once.

“Give me the telephone,” Priya said.

“No.”

“The call may be recorded.”

“I already recorded it.”

Calmness could be heard in my voice, but my hands were still trembling. Nora was clinging to me and pulling my hair, as if trying to make sure that this time I would not go anywhere.

The police officer put handcuffs on Victor.

“Where is Arthur Bell?” I asked.

Victor chuckled.

“You still don’t understand. Arthur was not acting alone.”

“Then help me understand.”

“I worked for you for three years. For three years I waited for you to find that letter.”

“And why didn’t you take it?”

His face became tense for the first time.

“Because Elena knew more about me than I did about her. The letter was supposed to contain evidence that would destroy us all.”

Priya looked at Louise.

“The letter is not complete.”

“The second part exists,” Louise said. “Elena left it with me before she went to the hospital.”

“Where is it?” I asked.

Louise bit her lower lip.

“In my apartment. In a wooden box under the child’s bed.”

That same evening we went there accompanied by the police. The apartment was small, on the fifth floor, and the paint had peeled from the stair railing. Nora was sleeping in my arms. I still had her pink hair clip in my pocket, the one that had fallen in the office.

In the wooden box they found the second part of the letter, a memory card, and a small photograph of Elena.

In the photograph she was standing in a blue coat and covering her pregnant belly with her hand.

On the back it said: “If you are reading this, Grace is alive. And she will be safest of all when Damian knows the truth.”

There was a recording on the memory card.

Elena’s face was visible close to the camera. Her eyes were tired, but her voice was firm.

“Damian, if you are seeing this video, it means I did not manage to return. Do not believe the accident report. Arthur has been stealing money for years, and Victor is covering everything up. I am hiding Grace from your enemies. Trust Louise. And, please, do not blame yourself for what was planned against you.”

At the end of the video Elena looked beyond the camera.

“I left a letter in your office. In the green book. It says what I could not tell you to your face.”

The recording stopped.

For the first time in three years, I cried.

Not loudly. Everything I had held back for so long simply came out of my eyes.

That same night Arthur called ten times.

On the eleventh call, his lawyer called me.

“Mr. Cole, my client is ready for a deal.”

“I did not offer a deal.”

“He can explain the events.”

“Then let him explain them to the police.”

“If you do not want to go to court, it would be better to reach an agreement.”

“No.”

It was the first word I had said in three years without putting pressure on myself.

The next day I went to Arthur’s office. Cameras, investigators, and the whispers of employees were everywhere. He still managed to keep a confident smile on his face.

“Damian, this is a misunderstanding.”

“Shall we listen to your voice?”

Priya turned on the recording in the room.

Arthur’s voice came from the speakers.

“The child had to disappear. Cole will see nothing through his grief. Victor, make sure the hospital file is changed.”

Those sitting in the room looked at one another.

The color left Arthur’s face.

“This is fabricated.”

“It is your voice,” Priya said.

“I did not say it like that.”

His own voice sounded again.

“If Elena survives, we will silence her too.”

Arthur grabbed the chair.

I understood my own words there and then. For three years I had trusted him. His son had put a hand on my shoulder at my daughter’s funeral and told me that time healed everything.

Now I knew why he had tried so hard to calm me.

The police arrested Arthur. Victor gave testimony the next day and asked for a deal instead of going to prison. But I no longer thought about either of them as I had before.

I returned to my old office.

Elena’s shelf was still there. I had put the green book there too. Only one thing had changed: the room was no longer a museum.

Her armchair stood empty.

But for the first time, the emptiness no longer hurt me.

We arranged a small room for Nora in a house away from the city. She drew yellow suns on the walls, and placed three stones she had brought from the park on the windowsill.

“This is for Mother,” she told me.

“Did your mother like stones?”

“No. But I wanted her to come home.”

Every evening we read. I said the words, and Nora added sentences from her imagination. Once she also brought the green book.

“Did the blue lady live here?”

“Your mother lived here.”

“Then was she blue?”

“She was that day.”

Nora rested her head on my shoulder.

“Why didn’t you come then?”

The answer to this question proved the most difficult.

“Because I did not know the truth.”

“Now you know.”

“Now I know.”

She took my hand.

“Then don’t go away anymore.”

“Never again.”

Months passed. I rebuilt the company. I removed the people who had stood beside me only because of money. I installed a new system for all the security recordings. Louise remained in our house, although she was no longer a cleaner. Nora still called her Mother, and I thanked her every day for the courage that had returned my child to me.

On the first morning of winter, snow came.

Nora stood by the window, holding a sheet of paper and writing letters. Some were upside down, some were too large, but one sentence could be clearly read below: “For Father, so that he does not get lost.”

That evening Arthur’s lawyer sent me one final letter.

“He wants to meet with you. He says that he did everything out of remorse. He also says that Elena’s favorite armchair should still stand in his office, because that is where it belongs.”

I read the letter and put it in the trash bin.

I gave no answer.

A few minutes later the telephone rang again. This time Arthur himself was calling.

“I ask only for five minutes,” he said.

“No.”

“You do not know what happened that night.”

“Now I know enough.”

“I could have saved Elena.”

“But you did not save her.”

A long silence fell.

“Damian, you are guilty too. You left the door open for me.”

I watched the snowflakes through the window.

“Maybe. But you chose to enter my door.”

I ended the call.

Nora entered the room, holding her shiny pen. The pen with which she had drawn on the edge of Elena’s unfinished letter three years earlier.

“Father, I finished the letter.”

“May I read it?”

She handed me the sheet.

Only one line was written there: “The lady in blue came home.”

I put the sheet in the green book and returned the book to the shelf.

The brass clock was still running two minutes fast.

This time I did not correct it.

Time belonged to Elena.